The freshly shined leather shoes stood at the end of the pier. The cracked, warped, water-damaged boards had seen better days. The water was calm and cool. The waves splashed against the rock-face shore line. The pier was built over the jagged maze of miniature mountains shaped by the constant bombardment of waves so that one could safely enter the water. A squeak came from the shoes as the wearer looked at the water. He looked back over his shoulder at the road, his hot breath turning white in the bitter cold air. A barrage of white light approached his back: headlights. A speeding car came to the edge of the road. The driver’s side flew open and out came running a woman of average height. She wore a dark grey suit with a common white button-down shirt. Her dark, jet black hair was mangled in the wind as she ran to the pier.

“Stop,” the man said, looking forward. He was tall, slender and wearing a dark blood-red suit with a black overcoat. “Don’t you dare take another step.” Over the shoulder he looked back again.

“Why are you here?”

“Oh, why is anyone anywhere? Life is funny that way. We never really understand anything, Agent Geen. Once we think we figured life out, it throws a curveball. If you ever find yourself thinking that life is easy or that you found the secret, look out. Because tragedy will strike.”

“You’re talking nonsense.”

“Am I?” He smiles looking at the woman.

“Yes, this does end here.”

“I beg to differ, Agent.”

“You’re overreacting to one small detail.”

“Well, Agent, let me tell you something. Once there was a case where a semi-tractor and a truck with a horse trailer got into a nasty accident. Both drivers and the horse were killed. So, since the police could not get a statement, they had to rely solely on evidence. They bagged anything and everything that could help. The roadside trash, bits of glass and any scrap of paper they could find. For the life of them they could not figure it out. Once they got back to the station and presented this very extensive and detailed report, the Captain asked one question: what color was the horse? All the detectives at the scene went back to their notes and not one of them knew the color of the horse. None of them recorded it. One small detail, and they missed it. So they went over the case again and realized that the tractor was defective and neither driver was at fault. Small details, Agent, are not to be taken lightly. Are you familiar with NASA’s Mars Climate Orbiter?”

“No.”

“Exactly; the scientists that built it forgot to convert the measurements from the US Customary measurements into the metric. Now the craft is lost in space, because of one simple error.”

“How does any of this apply…?”

“To this situation? It has everything to do with it. We had a good thing, you and I.”

“I do not see why that has to stop.”

“Thurman Wells is back. Sweetheart, as crime bosses go he's the cream of the crop. I can’t compete with that. Thurman also do not take too kindly to snitches. So how do you think he would feel if he found out that I was helping the FBI dismantle his criminal enterprise?” A quick pause, “Exactly. This is the end of the road for me.”

“What are you talking about? You’re Freddie Hale, damn it. You run this town.”

“Not when Thurman is in the mix.”

“So you are afraid of some competition?”

“Do you understand that you have awakened a beast? By letting that man out of prison you have made the streets that much more horrifying. Thurman Wells is a shoot first and never ask any questions type of guy. He’s not the competition. He’s the well-funded conglomerate that rolls into town and destroys everyone. I’m just a mom and pop shop compered to him.”

“I guess I just don’t get it. You’re scared, so you’re going to kill yourself like a coward?”

“Hey! Sweetheart, I hate it when you talk to me like that. It’s not that simple.” The woman starts to approach Mr. Hale. “Hey! Back off sister.”

“I can’t help if you don’t talk.”

“Talk! What do you want to talk about?”

“Oh, I don’t know let’s start with… Why are you here tonight?”

“You would not understand.”

“Try me.” He turned his back to the Agent and looked at the water. Some frozen tears fell from his face to add to the water. He turned to face the detective. With his gloved hand he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a photograph, shaking as he handed it to the woman. He returned to the edge. Agent Geen examined the photograph. The picture was of a woman and a little girl.

“It’s cute that you think Freddie Hale is my real name.”

“What is this?”

“My family.”

“You have a family?”

“Freddie Hale is a character…” He removed his gloves, displaying a wedding band. “Yeah, I’m a criminal, but they’re not. Thurman will kill them…” glancing down at his watch, “... in eight hours if I am still alive.”

“We can fight this.”

“Agent, you need a reality check. Thurman is a sleaze-ball, but he is a man of his word.”

“No, we'll find them. We can…”

“Agent! Not if I am alive. You’re cute for trying. But you need to realize two things.”

“What?”

“That we’re beat.” He looks at the dark water. As black as the night around them.

“What’s the other thing?”

“The look in a man’s eyes when he has already made up his mind.” He turns to look at the detective.

“Don’t do this.”

“Not matter how close you play your cards to the vest, everyone has a weakness. Sometimes you’re bested and they find it…” He starts gazing at the water once more.

“Your weakness?”

“No, your breaking point.” With a swift motion he moved his right hand to his ankle and grabbed the gun strapped to his shin. Placing the barrel in his mouth he locked eyes with the Agent as to say, “Tell my daughter I love her.” This was an unspoken bond between them. He pulled the trigger and, with one quick flash of muzzle fire, the back of his head exploded and debris landed in the bitter cold water. His body fell limp and dropped like sack of potatoes. The lifeless corpse fell off the edge, Splash.