Beginning of my story

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Maurice Sylver stomped up the large, stone front steps of Ray Baylor’s house, the sun beating down on his heavily tanned skin. He wore an angry expression on his face. He was biting down on his bottom lip; his eyes were squinting menacingly, and he gripped his gun hidden under his bulky jacket, as if checking that it was still there. Baylor’s large, brown door had an old-fashioned, golden knocker fastened in the middle. Sylver ignored it, ringing the miniscule doorbell next to the door. Tapping his foot impatiently on the cold stones, Sylver looked around.
The pure green lawn was filled with energetic sprinklers, water dancing all over the grass. The stone steps were surrounded by symmetrical gardens, sprouting rainbows of small flowers. A few gnomes rested along the edges, their chubby faces frowning.
Sylver snapped his attention back to the door when he heard it open. Ray Baylor was a balding, skinny man with horn-rimmed glasses. He sighed at Sylver, as if expecting it to be someone else – someone whose presence he would appreciate much more.
“Yes?” he said in a cracked voice.
“What do you mean ‘yes’?” Sylver snarled.
“What do you want, sir?” Baylor sighed.
“Are you Mr. Raymond G. Baylor?” Sylver inquired. Baylor raised a thin eyebrow at this.
“Do I know…?”
“You murdered my parents, Mr. Baylor.” Sylver grabbed his handgun and pointed it at Baylor’s lower chest, glimpsing around to see any onlookers. “Get inside.” Baylor grunted, and backed into his house, Sylver slamming the door behind him.
They were in a dimly-lit room, a coat-rack placed messily by the door. Sylver skimmed his surroundings, and his eyes finally settled on two blue, fluffy couches facing each other, a lamp shining brightly near the flat-screen television that was near them.
“Take a seat, Ray,” Sylver said, raising his gun higher now. Baylor shuffled into the room, sinking his bottom into the couch. Sylver sat on the other couch, eyes bearing into his host.
“You’re the only one here, I presume…”
“Yes,” Baylor said quietly.
“Do you know who I am?” Sylver asked.
“No, I do not.” Baylor frowned, his thin eyebrows coming together as he did.
“I am Maurice Sylver, Mr. Baylor.”
“Sylver…” muttered Baylor.
“My parents were David and –”
“I know who your parents were,” Baylor interrupted. There was a moment of silence.
“Do you even know who I am?” Baylor said, raising his eyebrow again.
“You are the man who murdered my paren –”
“I am a Special Agent for the FBI. Your parents, Maurice, were terrorists.” If Sylver was feeling any emotion, he didn’t show it.

Please submit feedback, tell me what's good and what's bad, what needs to be improved, etc. Thank you for reading and commenting.

Interesting. Now I want to know what happens next!

Very effective use of detail. Enough to make the story seem like a real experience for the reader, but not so much that it bogs down the dramatic flow of events.

Dialog is utterly convincing.

You told us a lot about the characters without us realizing you were doing it. That's a well executed maneuver, they call it "show, don't tell."

Very good!

I'd buy that any day.