Following the laughter, the distinct smell of the ocean. All barnacle and salt and half eaten fish and wet wood.
A voice, barely descernable, floating over the Las Vegas dirt.
The laughter again. It’s definitely the teenage girl.
I step in a puddle, mud sucking on my shoe.
I hear a gun shot. It stops my heart and breaks the night in half.
I don’t remember reading about the cop missing his gun.
There is a strange glow in the distance. It seems to be pulsing.
I point my flashlight towards it and start walking.