Skilled Executioner

The woman wearing something pink walked past his line of sight. Damn! Steady. Wait. Wait. Account for height. He adjusted the mildots in the sight; moving the crosshairs (in the telescopic sight) only slightly. Check. Hold steady. Steady. Another rumbling of thunder. A deep breath...Target in the crosshairs. With the slightest squeeze, he pulled the trigger...Target down. One, two, three, four, five, six...he counted, but the target did not get up. He looked to his left, at the house where he'd heard the dog barking. No other lights came on. With a wild glint in his eyes, he lowered the rifle next to his side, turned and headed back to his car; excitement rushing through him. Once inside, he laid the gun down, barrel toward the floor, resting the stock on the passenger seat. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and started the engine. His adrenaline was pumping, his heart pounding. He checked the rearview and side mirrors before pulling away from the curb.