Bring Me To Your Stars

The Strange Case of Emily Amberflaw

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 ID card 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."