the muggy evening air. She spent hours reliving her last intimate moments with Parker, hastily saying good-bye as Parker dropped her at her car. Neither acknowledged those moments as their last, but clearly they both knew. Over the course of the last week, they resumed the roles of teacher and student and, Morgan was certain, no one suspected those boundaries had ever been pushed, let alone broken. As she walked through campus, Morgan allowed herself, for the first time, to imagine an alternate ending.
She didn’t see the lights until she was at the edge of the crowd. Pausing, she took note of the bowed heads, the signs, and the flickering flames of candles in the hands of dozens of young men and women. Vaguely, she realized it was dark outside and she wondered how long and how far she had walked, lost in thought. Rather than skirt the crowd, she stopped on the edge and listened in. The handwritten signs and scattered photos clustered on a makeshift altar made it clear this gathering was in remembrance of Camille Burke, the young graduate student who had been brutally murdered in her own home.
Public displays of affection have the effect of drawing people in. Vigils for the dead are no different. Morgan imagined she wasn’t the only one in this crowd who hadn’t known Camille Burke in life but relished the idea of knowing her now, through others’ memories and recollections. Looking in, it was possible to imagine how it would be when she was no longer alive. What would people say, what snippets of her life would they think were important, would they choose to share?
Morgan reflected on the many murder cases she had worked on over the years. Some defense attorneys refused to allow themselves any intimate connection to the victim or the victim’s family, deciding that distance allowed them to exercise their skills more effectively. Morgan, on the other hand, armed herself with knowledge about the life that had been taken. Her ability to reach beyond crime scene photos and autopsy reports often enabled her to find an explanation, if not a reason, for the death. Whether the explanation helped or harmed her client was evenly divided, but knowledge was power and Morgan looked for leverage wherever she could find it.
“Did you know her?”
Morgan recognized the voice and closed her eyes as if she could choke off the tide of emotions it evoked by cutting off at least one of her senses. She turned cautiously and, steeling herself, slowly reopened her eyes. Parker looked tired, sad, far removed from the self-assured woman she had come to know. She was overwhelmed with a desire to pull her close, wrap her in her arms, and whisper comfort. But Parker stood with her arms held tightly at her sides, not inviting. Morgan shook her head. “Did you?”
“No, I was on my way to the gym. But it’s a bit like a train wreck. Kind of hard to look away.” Parker whispered this last, either out of respect for the crowd or a desire to keep her thoughts secret between them. Morgan couldn’t tell which, but she responded by nodding, wondering what source other than grief caused Parker to look so drawn.
Words were inadequate to fill the space between them, so Morgan and Parker stood in silence with the rest of the mourners, keeping their own private vigil. An hour later, when the crowd dispersed, a glance was all that passed between them before they left to rejoin their separate worlds.
*
Morgan was startled by the ringing of the hotel phone. Other than Yolanda, the only person to call her at the hotel was Tina. Just this week, she’d stopped having the operator screen her calls once it became apparent Tina had resigned herself to their failed relationship. It had been two weeks since she’d run into Parker at the Burke vigil. Their encounters in class had been strictly professional. However, in the late-night hours, she had been able to think of little else besides Parker’s tight, beautiful body coiled around hers. As she reached
She didn’t see the lights until she was at the edge of the crowd. Pausing, she took note of the bowed heads, the signs, and the flickering flames of candles in the hands of dozens of young men and women. Vaguely, she realized it was dark outside and she wondered how long and how far she had walked, lost in thought. Rather than skirt the crowd, she stopped on the edge and listened in. The handwritten signs and scattered photos clustered on a makeshift altar made it clear this gathering was in remembrance of Camille Burke, the young graduate student who had been brutally murdered in her own home.
Public displays of affection have the effect of drawing people in. Vigils for the dead are no different. Morgan imagined she wasn’t the only one in this crowd who hadn’t known Camille Burke in life but relished the idea of knowing her now, through others’ memories and recollections. Looking in, it was possible to imagine how it would be when she was no longer alive. What would people say, what snippets of her life would they think were important, would they choose to share?
Morgan reflected on the many murder cases she had worked on over the years. Some defense attorneys refused to allow themselves any intimate connection to the victim or the victim’s family, deciding that distance allowed them to exercise their skills more effectively. Morgan, on the other hand, armed herself with knowledge about the life that had been taken. Her ability to reach beyond crime scene photos and autopsy reports often enabled her to find an explanation, if not a reason, for the death. Whether the explanation helped or harmed her client was evenly divided, but knowledge was power and Morgan looked for leverage wherever she could find it.
“Did you know her?”
Morgan recognized the voice and closed her eyes as if she could choke off the tide of emotions it evoked by cutting off at least one of her senses. She turned cautiously and, steeling herself, slowly reopened her eyes. Parker looked tired, sad, far removed from the self-assured woman she had come to know. She was overwhelmed with a desire to pull her close, wrap her in her arms, and whisper comfort. But Parker stood with her arms held tightly at her sides, not inviting. Morgan shook her head. “Did you?”
“No, I was on my way to the gym. But it’s a bit like a train wreck. Kind of hard to look away.” Parker whispered this last, either out of respect for the crowd or a desire to keep her thoughts secret between them. Morgan couldn’t tell which, but she responded by nodding, wondering what source other than grief caused Parker to look so drawn.
Words were inadequate to fill the space between them, so Morgan and Parker stood in silence with the rest of the mourners, keeping their own private vigil. An hour later, when the crowd dispersed, a glance was all that passed between them before they left to rejoin their separate worlds.
*
Morgan was startled by the ringing of the hotel phone. Other than Yolanda, the only person to call her at the hotel was Tina. Just this week, she’d stopped having the operator screen her calls once it became apparent Tina had resigned herself to their failed relationship. It had been two weeks since she’d run into Parker at the Burke vigil. Their encounters in class had been strictly professional. However, in the late-night hours, she had been able to think of little else besides Parker’s tight, beautiful body coiled around hers. As she reached
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