Police Sargent Jim Pierce was asleep at 2:20 a.m. when he got the call.

They fucked up bad this time, Jim. You need to get down here and figure this thing out. If you don't, this whole department's going down like the Titanic once this story hits the news.

Pierce didn't find the play on words funny.

And it was too goddamn early to haul ass in his truck down to the harbor before the media got there first.

Bitter Tears Cross overlooked the Atlantic Ocean at a cliff face on a side road, somewhere in the area of the Great South Bay and the Sunken woods. It was open to the public, but mostly a favorite route for hikers into the state forest. Too many rocks and sharp turns going up the hill for anyone who didn't know the area.

Only time he ever got called up there was to talk a 5150 from jumping off the cliff edge now and then.

But not for anything like this.

Nothing ever this whacka-doodle.

In fact, it was these kind of oogie-boogie stories that tanked the careers of police officers like him.

And he'd worked too hard to earn his reputation.

But this case-this "ghost story" as they were calling it-was destined to make or break his career.

"Somebody better start explaining this to me," Pierce demanded, stepping out of his truck into the chaos of red and blue police lights parked in a semi-circle facing the harbor. "How does an unarmed 22-year-old woman end up shot to death while in custody?"

"Glad you could make it down here, Sarg," a younger man in a suit flashed his badge at him. "I'm Detective Malich, from the county. I've been assigned the case."

"Jesus, I haven't even seen the case yet, and the county's already up my ass. Great to see our tax dollars finally doing some work. I been trying to get the county down here for months. So, what made you hotshots decide to finally grace my lowly little turf with your presence?"

"I'm not allowed to comment on that yet, while the investigation is pending," Detective Malich answered. "I don't mean to step on your toes, Sarg. I know you got a lot of fires to put out this week."

"Something about the month of April, I don't know what it is. The Oklahoma City Bombing, Columbine, and now the Titanic? Springtime is for lunatics too, I guess," Pierce shrugged a reply. "So, what happened here? A classic murder-suicide investigation? Girl breaks up with boy and boy can't handle it like a man, so, he throws her off the cliff?"

"That's what they're calling it," Malich remarked. "But you and I both know, it's never that simple."

Pierce gazed down at the 60-or-80-something drop off the cliff into a death trap of rock and pounding ocean waves.

He whistled.

"No way in hell anybody could've survived that, let alone a 22-year-old female," Pierce told Malich. "You're the expert, detective. What are you calling it?"

"Kidnapping gone wrong? Disgruntled employee who couldn't take rejection? Bonnie and Clyde wannabe?" Malich dropped his guesses on the table. "Take your pick."

"Who are the suspects?"

"That Honda you see over there, it's the one that led the police chase when they drove up here. It's registered to the suspect we have in custody, Paxton Alexander Amberflaw, but the driver's license we found inside belonged to Emily Daisy Amberflaw. Date of Birth 04-12-2001. The one down at the station is her brother, who she lived with. Worked as a cashier at the Titanic Exhibition Museum downtown. Driver's license states Caucasian female, hazel eyes, brown hair, 5'6, 143 pounds."

"And what connection does the brother have to her and this boyfriend?"

"Wouldn't give me a straight answer," Malich said. "Gave a bunch of conflicting statements. For one, he said his sister died years ago, on April 15th."

Pierce checked his watch to confirm the day's date.

"Three days ago?"

"Said it was years, but couldn't give me an exact date. He also said his sister couldn't remember much of her memories, and that he was trying to 'save her' when he walked in the museum with a gun."

"Sounds like a beautiful start of a classic 'I'm innocent by reason of insanity' defense he's building there," Pierce remarked, putting on his reading glasses to jot some notes on the hood of his truck. "As far as I'm concerned, everybody's a suspect here."

"Already ahead of you, Sarg," Malich noted it too.

"You ID'ed this 'boyfriend' yet?" Pierce asked him. "The one who threw her over the cliff?"

"Security guard at the museum called in a Caucasian male," Malich read directly from his notes. "Blue eyes. Light Brown hair. About 6 feet in height. Suspect was wearing a waistcoat, pocket watch, neck tie, and a ship officer's cap with a White Star Line emblem. British accent."

"Jesus, are we talking Cracker Jack Box or Colonel Sanders?" Pierce eyed him over his glasses. "Any family we can reach out to to get more information on this guy?"

"We're working on that," Malich said. "All we have right now is surveillance evidence to go off of. The victim appeared to be interacting with someone in the back hallway, back by the restrooms. According to the store manager, there's no cameras back there."

"And nobody saw her come back from these bathroom?"

"It appeared that she came back to the register one more time, to greet another customer, but the video drops into static after 16:47. Then pops back up at 17:01, where she's seen running with the second suspect back toward the restrooms. The manager told me there's an emergency exit in the hallway back there, and that's likely how she got out. That's when the police pursued."

"And what evidence do you have that this could be a robbery or kidnapping gone wrong?"

"Absolutely nothing," Malich admitted. "The store manager reported that all merchandise and cash in the register were accounted for. And there didn't appear to be any ballistic damage to walls and windows. All that was reported missing is a firearm stolen out of a busted display case. The entryway to the shop had a door counter installed on it. It pinged four times during the hour. The back door at 16:14, then again at 16:28. Then the front door went off again at 16:47, and the back door again at 17:01. Store manager confirmed none of the locks were damaged."

"And she was the only employee in the gift shop who'd have access to that back door?"

"Yes, sir."

"So, assuming it wasn't Amberflaw playing musical doors, and guessing that she had employee access to the back, let's assume she was the one to open the back doors at 16:14 and 17:01...Brother came in at about 16:47. We know that. So, who was in that shop with her at 16:28?

"That's the million-dollar question. The store manager said they'd just replaced the cameras, and they been having wiring issues ever since," Malich reported . "We haven't got an ID yet on the second suspect from the CCTV. There's no match in the database. And the manager stated the man wasn't another employee. Amberflaw was working that shift alone."

"Are you trying to tell me we're really dealing with some ghost here?" Pierce questioned him. "I'll leave the Ghost Busters hoodoo-voodoo to you, detective. My main concern is how and why this girl ended up shot. That's what they called me down here to figure out."

"The female was driving and wrecked at that turn there," Malich pointed the spot out to him off to their right. "Where that opening in the trees is...She got out first. And then at some point, the second suspect came out running behind her?"

"I'm sorry, you said the one in the waistcoat, right?" Pierce still couldn't buy it.

"Waistcoat with a pocket watch. Just like the White Rabbit in Wonderland. My notes say at the time, officers were still under the impression that he and the female were the active shooters, which was later found to be false when P. Amberflaw turned himself in," Malich said. "Looked like the second suspect was acting in self-defense against the suspect we have in custody now...Though, that was until the Mad Hatter here decided to hold officers at gunpoint."

"And what type of firearm are we talking?" Pierce asked, quickly scribbling away at his notes.

"A Browning 1910 Automatic Pistol."

"1910?" Pierce swore he didn't hear it right.

"Same one reported stolen from the museum. Officers held the second suspect at gunpoint, which spooked him and made him draw his pistol too. It appeared that the female attempted to talk to police to defend the suspect, but when officers saw the pistol in the suspect's hand, they opened fire, judging him to be a threat. Somewhere in the confusion, the female was shot. She died on scene."

"And was that done by my guys or this wacko waving a Victorian era pistol around?" Pierce stopped him to clarify.

"Edwardian, technically" Malich corrected him. "And it wasn't clear. We'll need to see the body cams to make that determination. Officers reported that he appeared distraught and noncompliant, before he took the female over the cliff with him."

"Jesus," Pierce sighed, shaking his head. "What a fucking dumpster fire. Any bodies recovered yet?"

"We got a dive team about 15 minutes out. So far, no bodies yet."

"I need to see all the surveillance tapes you got out of that shop and all the body cam from the officers on scene," Pierce ordered one of his officers next to him. "If this guy had a gun on him and was posing a valid threat, it could save our asses. And I'm gonna need something better to report to HQ other than some ghost story as to why this girl was shot dead in the first place. And while you're at it, let's book the guy we got already in for questioning."

"Welcome to April," Malich said cheerfully, patting Pierce on the shoulder, as he walked away. "Good luck, Jim."