He stands exactly where the message said he’d be.
Tucker Beach, 5 PM. Bottom of the north walkway. Approach from the south entrance, and come alone. We’ll be watching.
I was surprised they wanted this transaction conducted in public. But being February, we’re unlikely to encounter any snorkelers or sunbathers.
At 4:50 I park in the community lot. The message didn’t mention weapons, so I tuck a pistol into my belt as I exit the car.
Walking along the shore’s unsteady sand, I see him staring into the ocean. He doesn’t turn towards me until I’m almost close enough to touch him.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction contest