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We’ll always be together.

A ghost and his darling.

Epilogue

Detective Stone

The early morning fog clings to the Pacific Coast like a shroud, swirling around the emergency vehicles that line up along the bridge. The gray dawn casts eerie shadows below where the ocean churns with white foam.

I stand at the edge of the precipice; they’ve chosen the grassy spot just off to the side where Wynnie and Preston had entered the bridge. My weathered hands grip the metal barrier as I stare down at what’s unfolding in the water beneath me.

The dive team has been working since first light, their black-suited figures moving methodically through rocky outcroppings that line the shore. Somewhere down there, beneath 70 feet or more of cold ocean water, lay the twisted remains of a vehicle and the bodies of the two criminals who had led me on a chase across several states.

“Detective Stone?” A young California officer approaches, his tone weak and cautious. “The Lieutenant would like to brief you on the information they have.”

I don’t turn away from the water.

These two have been slipping between my fingers every time I thought I was close…

When the call came in last night about a high-speed chase ending in a spectacular crash off the bridge, I knew it was them before they even had to fill me in about how a gas station attendant requested two older men call them in.

“What’s the temperature down there? Do you know?”

“When they first started, it was around 60 degrees, ma’am.”

I give the man a thankful nod. Given the small chance of survival, even the best swimmers wouldn’t last long in that cold water. Especially if they were injured in the crash, which is certain.

I follow the officer toward the command post. There’s a cluster of emergency vehicles and dive coordinators huddling around laptops that display sonar readings and underwater maps. Lieutenant Marcus Rivera is among them, and he gives me a mannish grin when he sees me.

“Detective Stone. Helluva thing bringing you all the way out here for this.”

“These two—the girl especially—have been on my radar for a minute now. Quite the pair.” I accept a steaming cup of coffee from one of the deputies who stands beside him. “I wanted to see this through to the end.”

“Currents are strong down there, lots of surge action against the rocks, so it’s hard for the men to get a really good look at things without putting them in danger. One of the guys said the car looks pretty banged up.”

From a 200-foot clearance, it surprises me that there’s much to show for. “Occupants still restrained in there?”

“We’re still looking for them.” Rivera scratches the back of his head. “Both windows are down—or shattered; we’re not sure yet. We’ve got divers checking the immediate area, but so far…”

“What about the pursuit? I heard there were shots fired; how were they not stopped before it got to this?”

“Yes, there was an attempt to disable the vehicle with gunfire.”

“An attempt,” I scoff, rolling my eyes.

“They were driving fast and erratically. An officer was given the okay to fire multiple rounds, but he couldn’t get a clean shot. They were able to continue onto the bridge and, well, you can see the rest.” He gestures toward the water.

Without another word, I leave Rivera and his men, frustrated at the incompetence of this police department. How can you not shoot a fucking car?

I walk along the bridge to the spot they crashed through, studying the skid marks that scar the road. The marks tell a story of desperation and speed.

Before I arrived, I had one of my connections email me the traffic camera footage from the bridge. The car was airborne, then gone in the water within a matter of seconds.

A man is standing there guarding the open space. I turn to him, crossing my arms across my chest.

“Do you happen to know how long it took for police to get down there?”

“It took maybe twelve minutes for responders to get down there. The guys up here stayed here, so if there was any incoming traffic, they could work them around.”