Chapter 16: The Gravity of Truth
The bell of St. Jude's didn't just ring; it roared. The sound waves were a physical force, vibrating the marrow in Elias's bones.
"Jump, Elias," Julianna shouted over the tolling. Her pistol was steady. "If you jump, you might live to be a ghost. If you stay, you're just a body."
She didn't wait for his answer. She fired.
The bullet grazed Elias's shoulder, tearing through his suit jacket. He didn't think; his hyperthymesia calculated the distance to the Black River—$110$ feet. The water was $12$ feet deep at high tide. The tide had peaked four minutes ago.
He threw himself backward through the open clock face.
The air was a cold blade. For $2.6$ seconds, Elias was weightless. He hit the water like a slab of concrete. The world went black, then a freezing, murky green. He kicked toward the surface, his lungs screaming, just as a second volley of bullets hissed into the water like angry silver snakes.
He drifted under a pier, clutching a barnacle-encrusted pylon. Above, he heard the screech of tires. The hunt had begun. He wasn't a detective anymore. He was Case File #1.