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it should

be a crime

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truelesbianlove.com

(Aeros eBook)

it should

be a crime

by

Carsen Taite

2009

it should be a crime

© 2009 By Carsen TaiTe. all righTs reserved.

isBn 13: 978-1-60282-086-4e

isBn 10: 1-60282-086-9e

This ElEcTronic Book is PuBlishEd By

Bold sTrokEs Books, inc.

P.o. Box 249

VallEy Falls, ny 12185

FirsT EdiTion: augusT 2009

This is a Work oF FicTion. naMEs, characTErs, PlacEs, and

incidEnTs arE ThE ProducT oF ThE auThor’s iMaginaTion or

arE usEd FicTiTiously. any rEsEMBlancE To acTual PErsons,

liVing or dEad, BusinEss EsTaBlishMEnTs, EVEnTs, or localEs

is EnTirEly coincidEnTal.

This Book, or ParTs ThErEoF, May noT BE rEProducEd in any

ForM WiThouT PErMission.

CrediTs

EdiTors: cindy crEsaP and sTacia sEaMan

ProducTion dEsign: sTacia sEaMan

coVEr dEsign By shEri (graPhicarTisT2020@hoTMail.coM)

Acknowledgments

Many people contributed to the success of this book whether

they know it or not. Special thanks to my fellow classmates and the

professors and staff at the University of New Mexico for the excellent

adventure called law school. Thanks also to my law partners, Tom

Mills and Christie Williams, for introducing me to the exciting and

dynamic world of criminal law. I had a blast writing the story of these

two formidable women and their legal and romantic adventures. That I

was able to use my day job as a research tool was a huge bonus. Extra

special thanks to Christie for always being available when I needed to

brainstorm creative story lines.

Brenda Adcock, Rachel Spangler, and Christie—thanks to all of

you for reading the rough version and adding polish where needed.

Cindy Cresap—your guidance, strong and gentle, made this a

much better book.

Stacia Seaman—your eye for detail provided the perfect polish.

Sheri—your cover designs are always amazing and this one is no

exception.

Rad and Jennifer—I will always be grateful that you decided to

take a chance on me. I can’t imagine a more nurturing family than

BSB.

Lainey—Thanks for your willingness to always stop what you’re

doing to accommodate my need to ask, “Does this sound right?” or

“Can you help me figure out…?” I love you for always believing I can

do anything and for all the sacrifices you’ve made so that I can realize

my dreams.

Since the release of my first book, less than a year ago, I have

enjoyed meeting, in person and online, many of the readers who have

taken the time to give their feedback. To all of you out there, please

know that your voracious appetite for more fuels the fire that keeps me

writing.

Dedication

For Lainey and our happily ever after.

It Should Be a Crime

chapter one

A foul odor and complete darkness were clear signs the door

Morgan had walked through didn’t lead to the patio. She was

in the alley, and she didn’t think the night could get any worse. She was

wrong. As she tugged on the handle of the large metal door, she realized

it was locked and she was stuck outside.

Morgan looked around, realizing she was completely alone. Empty

delivery crates and broken-down cardboard boxes were stacked next to

a small Dumpster. The opposite side of the narrow drive was fenced off

with a short wire fence designed to discourage, but not prevent, foot

traffic. She assessed her choices: walk down the long path and circle

back to the front entrance of the bar, or scale the fence and scout out

a cab on one of the adjacent streets. The latter option, though messier,

was more appealing. Morgan glanced down at her outfit and sighed

at the destruction she was about to cause. She’d dressed to impress,

for all the good it had done. Her now inappropriate attire couldn’t be

helped. She had no desire to reenter the bar or risk being seen. She was

determined the inevitable confrontation was not going to take place

tonight. Not while she was in the weaker position. Absolutely not.

Morgan faced the fence with resolve. With a last look at her new

shoes, she wedged her brand-new sling-back, peep-toe sandal into

an opening in the wire structure. As she started to pull herself up and

over she heard faint strains of disco music growing louder and louder.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw her sworn enemy—the

door—was now an inviting friend, propped wide open, and beckoning

her back to the bar. She jumped off her perch and rushed back across

the alley.

• 11 •

carsen taite

“Hey! Where did you come from?”

Morgan jumped at the unexpected voice. Warily, she turned toward

its source. Less than two feet away, with a surprised expression on

her face, was a tall, beautiful woman. Relief at rescue didn’t preclude

Morgan from taking a moment to appraise the alabaster skin, messily

coiffed jet-black hair, and piercing blue eyes of the handsome woman

standing before her. Her savior-slash-inquisitor stood almost six feet

tall, her height accentuated by her lithe frame. She sported well-worn

Levi’s 501s and a plain black T-shirt, tight on her well-toned chest.

“Did you hear me?”

Morgan realized she was probably staring with her mouth wide

open. She chided herself for thinking illicit thoughts about another

woman after what she had been through that evening. Finding her voice,

she replied, “Yes, I heard you. I’m sorry for staring.” Thinking she

shouldn’t have acknowledged that last, she resolved to say only what

was necessary. “I was in search of the patio, but apparently walked out

the wrong door.”

“Good thing I came out when I did. You ready to go back in?” The

beauty took her turn appraising Morgan, and the heat of the woman’s

glance seared her. Morgan knew the rakish grin on the stranger’s face

meant her own mouth was probably hanging open again. The woman

spoke. “You look ready for something, but you don’t look like you’re

ready to go.”

“Actually, I’m outside because I needed some air. This may not

be the patio, but it provided what I was looking for.” Suddenly Morgan

wondered what this woman was doing out here. “And what are you

doing out here?”

“I work here,” the woman said simply. Seeing Morgan’s expression,

she explained. “I mean I work in the bar. I’m putting out the trash before

I leave for the night.”

“Oh.”

“Look, I know you said you want to enjoy the fresh night air and

all, but I’m about to go back in and, as I’m sure you know by now, this

door is going to lock behind me. Sure you don’t want to go back inside

with me?” The woman smiled the invitation.

Morgan stared, lost in thought. She had no desire to reenter this

place, not this night. Tina and her “friend” were probably huddled

somewhere inside. Though they weren’t likely to notice her, considering

• 12 •

It Should Be a Crime

their complete and total rapture with each other, she wasn’t going to put

herself through the torment.

“Uh, I hate to rush you, but I need to get back in.”

Morgan shook herself and focused on finding another way out of

this mess. “I don’t want to go back inside.” She fought to hold back

tears of frustration threatening to break through.

The woman walked closer until she was standing mere inches

from Morgan. “My name is Parker. What’s yours?”

“Morgan,” she whispered. Parker’s proximity robbed her breath.

“Nice to meet you, Morgan. You look like you’re having a bad

night.” Parker gently slid an arm around Morgan’s waist. She purred

the next question. “What can I do to make it better?”

Morgan’s thoughts raced. Well, this is rich. Here I am stuck in an

alley and a total stranger is flirting with me. Meanwhile, my partner

of ten years is doing God knows what with a Barbie wannabe inside.

Morgan wiped her eyes and turned toward Parker, who had moved

closer during the silence. She appraised her. This woman is no Barbie,

thank God. She’s real-life, drop-dead-gorgeous and knows it. Feelings

replaced rational thought and Morgan settled on a plan of action

designed to make the impact of the evening’s events fade fast.

“I’d like you to take me somewhere. Anywhere.” Morgan stared

directly into Parker’s eyes, willing her to understand the wide-ranging

implication of the control she surrendered with her request.

Parker didn’t betray an ounce of surprise. Instead she leaned in

and kissed Morgan lightly on the cheek. “Wait for me here. I’ll only be

a moment.” Heading toward the door, she glanced back only once to

deliver a reassuring smile.

v

Parker held a finger across her lips, signaling Morgan to quietly

enter the house. The expansive porch was well lit, but the foyer inside

was pitch black. Parker stepped carefully, leading Morgan upstairs to her

room, careful not to wake any of the other occupants of the house. After

crossing the threshold of her room, she flicked a switch to illuminate

her destination. She guided Morgan to the love seat near her bed and

then she walked to her nightstand and rummaged through the drawer

until she found a pack of matches. She lit three candles grouped on

• 13 •

carsen taite

the nightstand and cut the overhead light. The flames from the candles

flickered shadows on the walls and, against the dancing images, Parker

finally stopped to observe the beautiful woman in front of her.

Now seated, Parker realized Morgan wasn’t as tall as she first

appeared. Looking down at her feet, she saw delicious painted toes

sheathed in spiked sandals. Morgan wore snug dark blue jeans and a

cool white draped jersey halter top. Her auburn hair fell in soft waves

against the creamy skin of her bare shoulders. Parker wanted nothing

more than to run her hands through those tresses. Parker had met a

fair share of beautiful women during her tenure at the bar, but Morgan

topped the list. As she appraised her, she was tickled by a vague sense

of recognition and she wondered why, if she had seen Morgan at the

bar before, she hadn’t made her acquaintance earlier. Determined to

remedy past neglect with present intentions, she strode across the room,

knelt, grasped Morgan’s hands, and kissed her palms slowly, one at a

time. Morgan melted into the light touches. She inched to the edge of

her seat, pressing her body into Parker’s advances. Encouraged by the

response, Parker tucked herself between Morgan’s legs and reached up

to kiss the warm and welcoming lips hazily smiling down at her.

v

Morgan fought the urge to bolt. She couldn’t remember the

last time she had a one-night stand. Over a decade ago, at least. She

knew Parker was acting on the undercurrent of her request to take her

somewhere besides the bar, but Morgan was still reeling from having

witnessed the tragic final act of her ten-year farce of a relationship. She

should leave now before she further complicated the evening with her

own antics.

As if she could sense Morgan’s instinct to flee, Parker held her in

place. Morgan slid her hands along Parker’s arms, savoring the feel of

her muscled limbs. She started to coax the strong arms around her, but

stopped short. She didn’t want to be held. She didn’t want to be taken.

She had lost enough control tonight.

Morgan stood and placed her hand on Parker’s shoulder, signaling

her to stay in place. She kicked off her sandals and balanced herself

squarely so Parker’s face was centered near her chest. With one arm,

she pulled her skimpy top over her head, then deftly unhooked the clasp

• 14 •

It Should Be a Crime

of her silk bra. Parker reached up to help her remove the barrier, but

Morgan pushed her hands away. She flung the lacy undergarment down

and then rubbed her swollen breasts while she watched Parker squirm.

Morgan pinched her left nipple and rolled it between her fingers. Parker

licked her lips. Morgan wasn’t sure if she was making herself wet or if

the desire in Parker’s eyes was the catalyst of her arousal. Whatever the

cause, she was soaking and she wanted to be touched. She motioned

for Parker’s hand. Parker ran her palm up the bare skin of Morgan’s

stomach, inching toward her aching breasts. Morgan marveled at the

dual effect of her touch, both soothing and stimulating. She swooned,

almost forgetting her intentions, but she reclaimed her focus and

smacked Parker’s hand as it grazed her ready nipple. “No, I want you

inside me. Now.”

“Let me take you to bed.” Parker’s voice was low and full of

promise. “I want to feel your skin. I want to feel you against me while

I make you come.”

“I’ll come all right, but this way.” Morgan surprised herself with

the forcefulness of her declaration. She shook off her hesitation and

settled into the dominant role, guiding Parker’s hand to the zipper of

her jeans. “Inside. Now.”

Parker complied, but not without testing Morgan’s resolve. She

took her time unzipping Morgan’s jeans and when she finally slid her

hand inside, she kept the barrier of Morgan’s silk panties between

her probing fingers and Morgan’s wet center. Morgan ground against

Parker’s seeking fingers, slowly at first, then thrusting with mounting

speed against the increasing pressure of Parker’s insistent touch. The

soft silken motion was a nice prelude, but she quickly craved the

electric charge only skin on skin could provide. No longer able to stand

the boundary between her aching clit and the feel of Parker’s probing

fingers, she reached down and firmly grasped Parker’s hand. Force

wasn’t necessary. Parker’s need to be where Morgan wanted her was

evident by the urgency with which she slid her hand inside Morgan’s

panties to find her slick and ready. Morgan groaned as Parker traced a

path on either side of her quivering lips. As Parker spread her open, she

summoned what was left of her self-control and reached down to grasp

Parker’s hand once again.

“Not yet.” She held Parker’s hand still and met her eyes, now

black with intensity. “Take off your clothes.” Parker hesitated, almost

• 15 •

carsen taite

as if she didn’t register what Morgan asked. Morgan lowered her hand

to Parker’s waist and roughly tugged open a button of her 501s to accent

each word. “Take. Off. Your. Clothes.” Parker slowly removed her hand

from Morgan’s jeans and flashed a grin in response to Morgan’s low

moan. She stood and leaned so close Morgan could feel her breath,

warm and sweet. She sucked in her own as she watched Parker raise her

arms and peel her shirt away to reveal firm breasts, nipples erect and

begging to be touched. Morgan drew a hard nipple into her mouth and

rolled her tongue around it with increasing pressure, taking pleasure

in the way Parker’s strong body sagged against her as if melting at the

touch. She nipped hard, then leaned back and gazed into Parker’s glassy

eyes. “You were talking earlier about wanting to feel some skin?”

Parker took the cue, shoving her jeans down and kicking them

away. Morgan smiled at the sight of tight gray boy briefs. “Mmm, these

are nice, and you certainly look hot in them.” She ran a finger inside the

waist band, dipping low to trace the curled hairs beneath. “But they’re

not skin. Lose ’em.”

Parker obeyed, but she took her time, sliding the briefs slowly

down and then dangling them in Morgan’s face before tossing them

over her shoulder. Morgan’s breath caught at the sight of Parker’s tightly

muscled body. She was gorgeous. She stood proud and confident, as

if standing around naked in front of other women was something she

did every day. Maybe she does. For a brief moment, Morgan felt her

own confidence ebb, but acted quickly to block its retreat. She slid her

arms over Parker’s lean hips, pulled her close, and leaned back hard. As

they crushed into the cushions of the love seat, Morgan moaned with

pleasure at the feel of the welcome weight.

“So, is this what you had in mind?” Parker’s smile was irresistible.

Morgan answered by kissing the corners of her mouth, then teasing her

lips with light strokes of her tongue. Parker matched her movements

and their dance quickly dissolved into deep, probing kisses that Morgan

felt to her core. “I need to come now.” The awareness that drove her

to deliver the command faded into the haze of desire. Until she felt the

cool air in the room skim the heat between her legs she didn’t realize

she was fully nude. Within moments, Parker’s fingers brought her back

to awareness. Morgan matched her touch for touch, unable to resist the

excitement of their combined pleasure. As she writhed beneath Parker’s

• 16 •

It Should Be a Crime

well-toned body, she found her control in the pure physical pleasure she

felt as they came together with the unbridled intimacy only strangers

who never plan to meet again allow themselves to feel.

v

Morgan woke to the realization she wasn’t alone and she wasn’t at

home. She sighed as the events of the night before came flooding back

and she realized she probably didn’t have a home anymore. She rolled

out of bed, determined to spend the day figuring out if she had a place

to live.

She tiptoed around the room gathering clothes, doing her best to

see by the shades of early morning light peaking through the blinds. The

desire she still felt for the handsome woman sleeping soundly in bed

did not extend to wanting to talk to her this morning, and she shrugged

away the stirring sensation urging her to kiss those soft lips once more.

Too many questions, she thought. We’ve probably already exchanged

more than we should. Finally locating her missing articles of clothing,

she ducked into the adjoining bathroom to dress. Emerging quietly, she

blew a kiss at the sleeping beauty and whispered, “Thanks for showing

this girl a good time when she needed it most.”

The house was large and contained many rooms. Morgan was

surprised to see all the doors were shut, but relieved to know if there

were others in the house it was unlikely anyone saw her departure.

She quietly slipped out the front door and walked down the street. She

looked first at her watch, noting it was seven a.m. Next, she looked

around, searching for a reference point since she hadn’t paid an iota of

attention to their destination the evening before. The nearest intersection

was Abrams and Vickery. Morgan laughed. She was mere blocks away

from where she had grown up. She rummaged through her bag and

found her cell phone. Relieved to note remaining battery life, she dialed

information and was connected with Yellow Cab, who promised to have

a driver there within ten minutes.

Morgan spent the wait practicing her response to a range of

reactions Tina might have to the news she had arrived in Dallas a week

early. Pleasure was off the list, but surprise and dismay ranked high

among her predictions. Whatever the reaction, Morgan knew she needed

• 17 •

carsen taite

to spend some of the next thirty minutes coming up with a contingency

plan, because she wasn’t likely to be staying at the posh Preston Hollow

address she was headed to now.

The cab driver arrived and, like most cabbies in Dallas, had a poor

grasp of map skills for any neighborhood not in his usual path. He

was eager to take her anywhere in the surrounding Greenville area, but

professed to know nothing about North Dallas. Morgan managed to

pull up some long-forgotten map in her head and guided him through

the city toward the residence she had planned to call home.

The tall, imposing house swallowed up the lot it was sitting on

and seemed to spill out into the street to consume additional terrain.

The neighborhood used to be beautiful, Morgan remembered. Ranch-

style houses set back from the street, well-manicured lawns and stately

trees once made driving through the Preston Hollow neighborhood

seem like touring a cluster of country estates. Now many of the ranch

homes were teardowns replaced by McMansions, such as the one Tina

had commissioned. These fake palaces made the area, in Morgan’s

opinion, seem cheap. I suppose it’s just as well I won’t be staying long,

she thought.

Tina was sitting at the kitchen table nursing a steaming cup of

coffee. She looked up at the sound of Morgan’s entrance. Morgan read

fatigue and the blur of hangover behind the surprise Tina expressed at

her arrival.

“Honey! When did you get here? Why didn’t you call and let me

know you were coming?”

Morgan recalled stowing her luggage in the guest room closet

when she arrived yesterday afternoon. She realized Tina didn’t have

any idea she had been in the house the day before.

“Actually, Tina, I got here yesterday. I wrapped things up quicker

than I expected and I thought I’d surprise you by coming out early.”

Morgan watched the parade of expressions on her lover’s face go from

confusion to understanding to reflection. Morgan figured Tina was

wondering if she’d left anything incriminating lying around.

Tina’s expression settled on pleasure. “What a wonderful surprise!”

She wrinkled her brow. “But wait a minute. If you got here last night,

then where in the world have you been?”

“Gee, Tina, I was wondering when you were going to notice

• 18 •

It Should Be a Crime

my absence. I would have explained, but since you were previously

occupied I figured it didn’t matter what I did with my time.”

Tina’s puzzled look was almost convincing. “I don’t know what

you’re talking about.”

“Is that so? Let me help you remember.” Morgan was tired of the

charade they had played out the last few years of their relationship, and

the prospect of this confrontation held equal parts disgust and relief.

“I arrived last night in time to hear one of your new friends leave a

message on the machine entreating you to join the ‘gang’ at Betty’s for

happy hour. Silly me, I thought joining you would be a great opportunity

to not only surprise you, but meet all the friends you’ve made while you

toiled away the summer getting our new home ready. So I called a cab

and went out to join you. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you

have been very busy this summer. From what I observed, apparently

your interests haven’t been confined to work and nesting.”

Tina mustered a look of righteous indignation. “Morgan, I don’t

know what you think you saw, but—”

“Darling, don’t even say it. I am clear about what I saw. You and

I haven’t exchanged as much physical passion in the last five years as

you exchanged with the hottie on the dance floor last night. I didn’t

know you still had it in you.”

Tina sat in silence. Morgan observed her and read her with the

familiarity ten years of living together brings. Tina wasn’t going to deny

her actions any longer, and it didn’t appear she was going to apologize

for them either unless pushed to do so. Morgan no longer had the energy

to push her into apologies she clearly didn’t mean. Regrettably, it had

taken a move clear across the country to prove what they had known

all along. Their relationship was beyond repair. Neither cared enough

to heal the hurt between them, and Morgan knew it was time for her to

move on, and the sooner she did so, the better off she would be.

“I’m going to go check into the Palomar until I find a place.

The movers should be here tomorrow. I doubt I’ll be ready to have

them divert what I need, so we’ll have to work out arrangements. I

trust you’ll help make this go as smoothly as possible?” Morgan knew

Tina was clear about what “this” was. The two had grown emotionally

distant over the last few years, but they still had the capacity to read one

another’s thoughts and feelings.

• 19 •

carsen taite

“So, this is it for us? We move all the way across the fucking

country and after one day you’re leaving me?” The anger in her voice

was clear as Tina pushed her to announce her desire.

“Yes, Tina, I’m leaving. We’ve both moved on. I’m sorry I ever

agreed to come out here with you. I was stupid enough to think we

could make a fresh start, but last night proved nothing has changed

between us and it never will. We loved each other once, but we don’t

anymore. It’s as simple as that.”

“Fucking lawyers. Everything is black or white, right or wrong.

Maybe I got so sick of your logical approach to everything I decided to

take a walk on the wild side. Can you blame me?”

“I guess not.” Morgan’s tone was flat. Continuing the argument

with Tina would convey she cared and would only prolong her

departure. She didn’t care anymore and she wanted out, now. Focusing

on her goals, she strode to the guest room and retrieved her luggage.

Without another word, she left the house and got into the still waiting

cab. An extra twenty allowed the cabbie to overcome his frustration at

being asked to head back uptown.

• 20 •

It Should Be a Crime

chapter two

Rays of sunlight poked her in the eye. Parker flinched against the

pain like a vampire whose coffin had been unceremoniously

invaded during non-working hours. She didn’t want to get up, but

she knew she would have to crawl out of bed and shut the blinds if

she wanted to get any more sleep. Idly wondering if the sunlight was

having the same effect on her overnight guest, Parker glanced across the

bed. The pillow was askew and the covers in disarray, circumstantial

evidence of the passion of the previous evening. However, the direct

evidence was nowhere to be found. Parker opened both eyes wide and

searched the room for Morgan. She wasn’t there.

Parker slung her body out of bed and padded, naked, to the

bathroom door. It wasn’t locked and she eased it open. No sign of

Morgan. She pulled on a pair of boxers and a well-worn T-shirt and

trotted down the stairs to the kitchen. The roomy kitchen was silent and

unoccupied. Parker decided to put together a pot of coffee to fuel the

start of her day. While the java brewed she reflected on the previous

evening. She was surprised to find her guest gone and wondered when

she made her exit. Parker Casey was usually the one who slunk out in

the wee hours, long before morning snuggling became an option. As

she sipped her morning dose of caffeine, Parker decided she had met

her match. The realization carried a bit of a sting. From the moment she

laid eyes on Morgan trapped in the alley, she’d felt attraction, strong

attraction, coupled with a vague sense of recognition she couldn’t place.

She hadn’t grouped Morgan into the category of usual conquests she

met at the bar. Though their interaction had been primarily physical,

• 21 •

carsen taite

Morgan came across as more sophisticated and worldly than her usual

Friday night bar fare.

“Casey, you better have made enough to share!”

Parker started at the yelling from across the room. “For crying out

loud, Erin, keep it down. Some of us are still sleeping.”

“I’m sure you wish you were,” Erin replied, moving to fill a large

cup with the steamy brew. “No one in this house got any sleep last

night. I hope you had a great time.”

“Give me a break, Erin. We weren’t that loud, were we?”

“I’m sure it’s the thin wall between our rooms. Certainly, I’m the

only one in the house who could make out actual words.”

Parker blushed. “Geez, Erin, if I’d known you were listening I

would have given you some pointers.”

“You are incorrigible. I think you should make me breakfast to

help erase the trauma I’ve had to endure.”

“I’d love to, but I actually have a lot to do today. I have an

orientation session for third-year mentors and I want to pick up my

books before the meeting starts.” Parker searched the cabinets for

sustenance as she spoke, trying to find a quick bite to eat.

Erin gave her a puzzled look. “School doesn’t start for almost two

weeks. What’s your hurry?”

Parker shrugged. “You know me, I want to get a jump start on the

reading. And I volunteered to be a mentor to a one-L.” Parker referred

to the slang term for first-year law students. “They all start showing up

for their own orientation next week, and I need to be on hand to show

my assigned newbie around.”

“When’s your last night at the bar?”

“I have one more weekend shift right before classes start. Then I’ll

call it quits until winter break. I hate to leave Irene in the lurch, but I

have a lot on my plate this semester and I want to make sure I impress

enough of my profs to get into the clinic of my choice in the spring.”

“Irene, huh?” Erin scoffed. “I’m thinking it’s the women you’ll

have the most trouble giving up. Like shooting fish in a barrel. Do you

think you’ll go through withdrawal?”

Parker threw a bagel across the room, beaning her on the nose.

“Work hard, play hard—the Parker Casey way. You would do well to

follow my lead.” She grinned at her, grabbed the last remaining bagel,

and climbed the stairs to her room to get ready for her day.

• 22 •

It Should Be a Crime

The house she shared with her two roommates was large and

roomy, though old and drafty. The residence was perfect for the group

of students. It was close to campus and provided enough space to give

them all the room they needed to accommodate their various schedules.

Erin James was the youngest of the group, a graduate student at Richards

University, close to completing her master’s degree in sociology. Kelsey

James, Erin’s older sister and Parker’s best friend, was in her second

year of residency at the hospital associated with the university, and the

rest of the group rarely laid eyes on her. Parker was a third-year at the

university’s law school. When the school year started, she spent most

of her time on campus. Most legal research could be done wherever a

wireless connection could be found, but Parker preferred the computer

cubbies at the law library to the solitude of working from home.

Excited at the prospect of the start of school, though it wasn’t

official for another couple of weeks, Parker hurried through her shower.

She dressed in a smooth, worn pair of jeans, Skechers, and a plain navy

T-shirt.

Parker slid into her ’68 Mustang fastback and sped the few blocks

to the law school. Blazing August heat made it too hot to walk the

distance. Truth was, she loved the muscle car she had restored herself

and would rather drive it than walk, no matter what the weather. While

jockeying for a parking place, she contemplated the ride across town

the night before with Morgan occupying the seat beside her. Parker

would never have imagined that the reticent woman who sat silently

during the ride to her house would have turned into a dominant sex

goddess. Her clit throbbed with the memory of Morgan taking total

control and she was flustered by what an amazing experience it had

been to let someone else direct her in the bedroom. She was used to

being in charge, and though she had been in the driver’s seat in the car,

it was Morgan who had taken her for a wild ride in the bedroom.

Parker finally found a space to park and walked to the library. She

strode across campus with all the confidence her status as a third-year

accorded her. Thinking ahead to the mentor orientation, she recalled

the first time she set foot on the law school grounds. All her worldly

confidence drained away. It had taken her three tries to even find the law

school among the numerous buildings on campus. She was so concerned

she wouldn’t be able to locate it among the maze of buildings for the

first day of classes, she drove by a couple of times a day in the week

• 23 •

carsen taite

preceding the start of the first semester. She had spent over a decade

building another career when she made the decision to return to school

and get her law degree. Lacking no confidence in the outside world,

she’d found all her brashness faded at the prospect of starting over in

the academic world, a world filled with younger, presumably brighter,

students who, having come straight out of undergraduate school, were

still well acquainted with how the system worked.

Within a few weeks, Parker was in the swing of things. She

quickly learned all first-year law students were pretty much in the same

boat and the boat was adrift on a sea filled with lots of work and little

time for anything other than school. The students divided into study

groups based on their affinity for each other and how they preferred

to study. Parker had a history of excelling at every new venture, and

her studies were no different. Her personality and good looks were

magnetic, causing other students to gravitate to her. The members of

Parker’s study group were the top students in her class.

Parker walked into the library and shivered from the chill of

the refrigerated air. She was thankful she had chosen jeans and shoes

over her preferred summer uniform of shorts and sandals. She walked

directly to the largest of the private study rooms. Dr. Yolanda Ramirez,

the dean, was chatting with a couple of the other third-year students

who volunteered to be mentors. Dr. Ramirez glanced her way, giving

her a big smile. Parker reciprocated with one of her own. She gave full

credit to Dr. Ramirez for supporting her application to law school. The

dean had given her valuable pointers to make sure her application made

its way safely through the arduous admission process. When the dean

asked her to be part of this venture, she could hardly refuse.

Dr. Ramirez greeted Parker. “I’m so glad you could make it. I

think it’s important to have someone on this team who has more life

perspective than the average third-year student.” She punctuated her

gratitude with a hug.

“How could I refuse?” Parker replied. She had grown accustomed

to the faculty placing extra trust in her because, at thirty-four, she was

older than the average law student. As the dean rounded up the rest of

the gathering group and rustled them to their seats, Parker greeted some

of her classmates she’d missed over the summer. Several had worked

as summer associates with the numerous large firms in downtown

Dallas. The pay was amazing, and a summer associate could easily live

• 24 •

It Should Be a Crime

the rest of the year off what they made during the summer months.

Each firm spent significant amounts of capital trying to wine and dine

their summer associates while getting to know them. The goal of this

summer ritual was to allow the firm to decide if these students, usually

the top of their class, would make a good fit with the firm’s culture and,

if so, to convince the prospects there was no place better than their firm

to start their legal career.

Parker found the whole process of summer associates absurd. Her

conclusion wasn’t based on jealousy. At the top of her class, she had

been sought after each of the prior summers by virtually every firm in

Dallas, but she didn’t understand why she should waste a summer being

a social butterfly when she could do meaningful work. She was willing

to concede that a decade spent in law enforcement likely colored her

perspective, despite the disastrous ending to her chosen career. At least

the hefty settlement provided her with enough cash to allow her to do

the legal job of her choice without concern for money, which was a

good thing since working as an intern at the nearby Tarrant County

Public Defender’s Office didn’t pay a dime. The work did, however,

seal her resolve to become a criminal defense attorney and provided her

with course credit along the way.

Dr. Ramirez began by explaining when the first-years would

arrive and what their schedule would be like the first couple of weeks.

Funny, Parker reflected, after two full years of this stuff, we have to be

reminded what it’s like to start. Dr. Ramirez then asked the volunteers

to be present at a social she was hosting to welcome the new students

to the school. Parker glanced at her Treo and noted the social was the

same night she was scheduled to work her last night at the bar. A twinge

of regret that she would miss the social was rapidly replaced by a flash

of glistening skin and luscious curves as she recalled how her last bar

shift had ended.

v

As the valet brought her car around, Morgan performed mental

calculations in an attempt to figure out how much it would cost to

stay at the Palomar for the rest of her natural life. The specifics of the

mathematics failed her, but she was able to cipher enough to know

she couldn’t afford the luxury. Morgan had money, but not enough to

• 25 •

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burn. Years of handling high-profile cases with high-dollar retainers,

combined with a savvy business sense, meant Morgan had generous

savings. Managed carefully, she could live a very long time on the

interest from her investments alone, but Morgan liked a little luxury

now and then. As a consequence, she would keep working. Today was

the first day of her new job.

Morgan had spent the last ten years with Tina Middleton, software

engineer. Tina was a hot commodity in the high-tech industry and when

investors approached her about a start-up in Dallas, she had jumped at

the opportunity. She had spent the last six months persuading Morgan to

let her follow her dream, which of course meant Morgan was supposed

to drop her life and come along for the ride. Morgan finally decided

maybe the change of scenery would do their relationship some good

and they both planned to start over in Big D.

Morgan was no stranger to Dallas. She’d grown up here and

attended school at Richards University, which was her destination this

morning. When the couple decided on the move, Morgan made some

calls and secured a visiting professorship at her alma mater. A former

colleague, now dean of the law school, was happy to have Morgan.

Morgan had spent the fifteen years since graduation building a national

reputation as a criminal defense counsel working on high-profile cases

often involving high-profile individuals and corporations. The last few

years, she combined teaching a few classes with her law practice, years

of success giving her the freedom to pick and choose her cases. She

was actually looking forward to this opportunity to be in the classroom

more often, especially on such familiar stomping grounds.

Morgan found a spot in the faculty parking lot. She was grateful

her car arrived ahead of schedule; getting cabs in Dallas was a sketchy

proposition at best. She loved the comfort of her Lexus SUV, appreciating

the fact that with so many other SUVs on the road in Dallas, she didn’t

feel the pangs of guilt for driving such a gas guzzler she usually felt

back East. She switched off the radio and left the luxury of her ride to

head into the law school.

As she approached the desk in the administrative office, she smiled

at a familiar sight. Edith Perkins had manned the receptionist post for

decades. There she sat, looking every bit as alert and all-knowing as she

had when Morgan the first-year law student asked her for directions to

the registrar’s office on her first day. Catching Edith’s eye, she grinned

• 26 •

It Should Be a Crime

as she saw the stalwart gatekeeper try to stay focused on her phone

conversation, though it was obvious she was busting at the seams to

greet her.

“Morgan Bradley, as I live and breathe!” Edith came around the

desk to give Morgan her version of a bear hug. Edith Perkins was a tiny

woman and, to Morgan’s mind, ageless. She looked exactly the same

as she had eighteen years ago, and Morgan figured she would look the

same eighteen years into the future.

“Edith, I can’t tell you how good it is to see a familiar face. I

assume you know why I’m here?”

“Certainly, dear. Have a seat and I’ll let Dean Ramirez know you’re

here. She’s been barely able to contain her excitement at the prospect of

landing a big celebrity to teach this semester, never mind you’re also an

alumna.” Edith pointed to a sofa in the waiting area and walked down

the hall toward the dean’s office. Morgan grimaced slightly at Edith’s

assessment of her status. She hardly thought of herself as a celebrity.

True, for the past few years she had made regular appearances on the

cable network legal circuit spouting her opinions on everything from

current cases in the media to Supreme Court rulings. She was a go-to

legal consultant for Court TV, MSNBC, and CNN. When she wasn’t

hyping her own cases, she was ready and willing to provide insight to

the viewing layperson about the tricks of the trade employed by her

colleagues in the criminal defense bar. She was looking forward to

sharing the basics with her students, though, and hoped all the glitz of

TV law wouldn’t get in the way of the learning experience.

Dean Yolanda Ramirez entered the waiting area, apparently so

eager to greet Morgan she couldn’t wait for her to be ushered back to her

office. After exchanging hugs, the two women adjourned to Yolanda’s

office. Morgan took her time appraising the space and nodded with

approval. “Why, Dean, you’ve done very well for yourself.”

“As have you, Professor, as have you. Ray spends his evenings

surfing channels to hear your sound bites. I try not to be jealous, but

sometimes…”

Morgan laughed at Yolanda’s reference to her husband. Raymond

and Yolanda had been married forever, having met and fallen in love

when they were in law school. Yolanda used to joke if they could make

it through three years of brutal education, they could make it through

anything, so they might as well get hitched. Morgan met Raymond

• 27 •

carsen taite

working at a local firm that had recruited her upon graduation. Raymond,

a partner at the firm, recognized the budding talent of the first-year

associate and picked her to second chair on numerous cases. Not one to

let ego get in the way of a good defense, Raymond began to turn more

and more major case responsibilities over to her. Eventually, Morgan

was recruited by a firm with a national presence and, at forty years old,

she was one of the top criminal defense lawyers in the nation. Despite

the fact it had been years since she lived in Dallas, she remained close

friends with Raymond and Yolanda. In fact, she and Tina had been

frequent visitors to Dallas, often staying with the Ramirezes on their

weekend jaunts to shop and play in the Lone Star State.

Morgan responded to Yolanda’s bait. “Seriously, Yo, like Ray has

eyes for anyone but you. If I weren’t a lesbian, I would be offended by

the lack of attention I get from your husband.”

“Speaking of attention you should be getting, how’s Tina?”

“Poor segue.” Morgan had confided in Yolanda part of the reason

for the move to Dallas was to rekindle some sparks with Tina. Now she

needed to bring her up to date on the current situation, a conversation

she was dreading. “Actually, I will not be relying on Tina for any

attention in the future, Yolanda. We broke up and I moved out.”

“What the hell? I mean, what happened?”

“Tina found someone else to spark her flame. For all I know she

found several someone elses. All I know for sure is we’re done. I’ve

been staying at the Palomar since the night after I arrived.”

“So, you broke up after one night here? Wow.”

“Yep, I decided to surprise her by arriving early. Turns out I was

the one surprised. I showed up at a bar where she was supposed to be

meeting some folks from work. She was practically having sex with

another woman on the dance floor.”

Yolanda wrapped her in an embrace. “You poor thing. How

mortifying. What did you do?”

“Well, first I felt sorry for myself. Then I decided to go home

with the best-looking woman at the bar. The next morning I did what I

should have done years ago. I told Tina I’d had enough and moved out.

Well, I didn’t actually move out since my stuff wasn’t there yet, but I

moved myself into the Hotel Palomar.”

“Whoa there, missy! Sandwiched in between your tale of woe,

• 28 •

It Should Be a Crime

I think I heard you say something about going home with the best-

looking woman at the bar. True or not true?”

Morgan grinned. “True. Can you believe it? I was so mad at Tina

and there was no way in hell I was going to spend the night at the

scrubby McMansion she picked out for us. I worked off my anger in

the best way I knew how.”

“This old married woman wants to hear all about it, but it sounds

like a tale best told over cocktails. Why don’t we catch up this weekend?

Ray and I are hosting a thing for all the first-years Saturday night at

our place. How about brunch on Sunday? You, me, and your sordid

romances?”

“It’s a date. The thing on Saturday, I suppose you want faculty to

attend?”

“If you don’t mind, we would like to have as many of the professors

as possible. It helps for the newbies to meet you all in a less imposing

setting than the classroom. I realize you probably won’t have any first-

years in your class, but it would be nice for them to meet the big star on

campus. Meeting you will give them a good memory they can reflect on

when they are alumni and I am sending them endless requests to donate

to the scholarship fund.”

“No problem, Yo. It’s not like I have anything else to do. I’ll come

early and help.”

“Come early, dear, but the caterers have everything well in hand.”

Yolanda stood. “Now, please allow me to give you a personal tour of

the new wing. You’re going to love the new moot courtroom. It’s very

high tech and your office is right across the hall, so you’ll be perfectly

situated.”

Arm in arm, they made their way toward Morgan’s new office.

v

“Two? Why two?” Parker exclaimed to Gerald Lopez, the student

body president, waving the slips of paper in her hand.

“No good deed goes unpunished. It’s simple. We didn’t have

enough mentor volunteers to assign one to each first-year, so some of

you have two.”

“Any particular reason I was chosen as one of the lucky ones?”

• 29 •

carsen taite

“Yeah, Casey,” Gerald answered without expression. “It’s your

winning personality. Hell, I don’t know, maybe they figured because

you’re older you’d have more wisdom to share.”

Parker would have laughed if she thought Gerald was kidding.

Truth was she thought he was an idiot. Handsome, fast talking, and

popular with many of the female students, he’d needed little else to

secure the election as president of the law school student body. Gerald

was definitely a player and relied on attributes other than hard work and

legal skill to get where he wanted to be. With his luck, he’d probably be

district attorney someday. Parker grimaced at the thought.

“Fine, I’ll be happy to share my sage wisdom with these two.

Where do I hook up with them?”

“They’ll be done with their library orientation at noon. Here’s

your name tag. Wait in the lobby of the library and they’ll find you.”

Parker looked with disdain at the plastic badge Gerald had shoved

into her hand. No way was she wearing a name tag. Glancing at her

watch, she saw she only had five minutes to wait. No time to grab a bite

to eat. Well, she decided, I’ll show them the snack bar as the first stop

on the grand tour.

Parker leaned against a tall cement pillar in the library while she

waited for the 1Ls to appear. Within a few minutes, they came walking

toward her, a whole herd of them. They huddled together, drawing on

the only comfort they knew in this strange place, the familiarity of

each other. Although most of them had met only a few days ago, the

relationships they formed in those first hours were the most important

ones they would have for the next three years. Sharing the grueling

experience of law school from start to finish would make them as close

or closer to one another than many of the relationships they might have

had with lovers.

Parker reflected on her reluctance to take on two mentees and

decided to rise to the challenge. After two years of experience, she was

well equipped to handle any situation, including showing a couple of

newbies the ropes. Her grades were top-notch and her class schedule

consisted of courses she was sure to ace. This was her last year in law

school and she was on top of the world.

• 30 •

It Should Be a Crime

chapter three

Yolanda threw the best parties, Morgan reflected as she glanced

around the room. She knew Yolanda’s desire to make the new

1Ls feel comfortable was sincere and the ambience reflected it. Many

top-tier law school deans would use this opportunity to impress the

new students with the power and stature of their office. Instead, Dean

Yolanda Ramirez thought it was her privilege and duty to offer a warm

welcome to the newbies and get to know them before the semester took

off with a roar. The only hint of formality was the fact waiters circulated

with platters of hors d’oeuvres.

Morgan made her way over to the bar and secured a glass of Pinot

Noir from the hunky blond mixing drinks for the event. Her mind

wandered to thoughts of the bartender whose bed she had occupied

recently, and she wondered if Parker was working at Betty’s this

evening. Her thoughts stoked feelings still smoldering since their night

of fiery passion. Morgan was still amazed when she recalled her every

action that night, from asking Parker to take her somewhere, anywhere,

to her own display of sexual aggression. She revisited the sensations,

hungry to repeat them outside the virtual scene in her mind.

Put those thoughts aside, Professor, she scolded herself. The last

thing she needed was to make a return visit to the scene of the end of

her relationship. The night she spent with the beautiful stranger was an

indiscretion, excusable at the time, but untenable if repeated. Folding

away images of the tall, dark-haired bartender, Morgan swallowed

a healthy dose of her pinot and charged into the growing crowd of

teachers and students.

• 31 •

carsen taite

v

Parker realized she was going to miss the smoky bar. She glanced

around, glad to see the place was crowded.

“Penny for your thoughts, Casey.”

“Irene, you should know by now my thoughts are worth so much

more.” Parker playfully punched the woman at her side. She held a

large measure of genuine affection for bar owner Irene Stewart. Irene

was a friend from long ago. An older, crusty dyke, she had owned the

bar since the beginning of time. As an undergrad, Parker had welcomed

the opportunity to work at the busy establishment and Irene became

more than a boss; she was also a mentor and friend.

“You haven’t taken your eyes off the crowd tonight. Lookin’ for

someone in particular?”

Parker reflected, not for the first time, on Irene’s uncanny ability

to read her thoughts. She had definitely been scouring the faces in the

crowded bar, hoping to see Morgan. So far, no sign of her. Resolving to

be more discreet in her search, she joked, “It’s my last night for a while.

I’m trying to savor every moment.”

“As long as it’s only moments you’re savoring, we’ll get through

the night. It’s busy already and it’s only nine o’clock. I’ll get Dannie to

stock extra glasses and make sure we have enough ice.”

Parker surveyed the room and agreed. The place was packed

tonight, more so than a usual Friday night. Most of the faces in the

crowd were familiar. It seemed as though everyone she knew was at the

bar tonight. As she reflected, she heard the music stop and the DJ asked

for the crowd’s attention. Wondering at the unexpected interruption to

the club’s routine, she turned and started to call out for Irene. The shout

died in her throat as she saw Dannie and another one of the barbacks

approaching slowly, each precariously balancing an end of a large sheet

cake. Parker read the top of the cake—We’ll Miss You, Parker!—and

lost the ability to speak. Suddenly the entire room erupted in clapping,

hoots, and hollers and Irene showed up in time to wrap Parker in a big

bear hug.

“I love you, kid. We wanted to make your last night special.”

Parker brushed aside a tear and kissed Irene’s cheek. “Aw, Irene,

you didn’t have to do this. You know I’ll be in all the time. It’s not like

I’m going anywhere.”

• 32 •

It Should Be a Crime

Irene wagged a finger in her face. “Yeah, we’ll see. I’ll let you

know after I see your report card.”

v

“Professor Bradley?” At Morgan’s nod, the tall, barrel-chested

man offered his hand. “I’m Jim Spencer. Nice to finally meet you.”

Morgan shook the proffered hand and exchanged pleasantries.

“Nice to meet you as well. Student or teacher?”

Jim Spencer laughed a Santa Claus laugh, his sides shaking with

genuine amusement. “You’re a pistol in person, just like on TV. While

Yolanda does encourage older students to apply, I’m certain she doesn’t

mean as old as me. I’m your go-to professor for torts, civ pro, and

ethics.”

Morgan smiled at him. His humor was contagious. “Ah, torts, the

bane of every first-year’s existence. I think I’ll go stand in another part

of the room. I want the newbies to like me well enough to take my

classes later.”

“So, you’ll be sticking around? I knew you had a visiting spot, but

I wasn’t sure how long your term was going to last.”

Morgan realized she had made the statement about her future

plans without conscious decision. Wanting to give herself some wiggle

room while she reflected on her future plans, she said, “Let’s say I’m

leaving my options open.”

“Well, I’ll try not to scare you away. Here alone? I think Yolanda

mentioned you are in a relationship.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel more comfortable? You’ve

already checked me out?” Her tone was light and teasing.

“Hey, I believe in checking out all my options right from the start.

It’s good litigation strategy. Don’t you think I should practice what I

preach?”

“Morgan, is this man bothering you?”

They both turned toward the voice of Dean Ramirez. Jim started

to bluster a reply, but Morgan found words first. “Yes, Dean, very much

so. I certainly hope the rest of the faculty possesses more decorum than

I have seen exhibited so far.”

Jim turned to Yolanda and began his protest. “Forgive me for trying

to get to know the new professor and help her become acclimated to

• 33 •

carsen taite

our school. I’ll leave you two and go harass some of the one-Ls. Lord

knows they’ll take it better.” Jim reached out, grasped Morgan’s hand,

and brushed it against his lips. “Have a wonderful evening, madam.”

Smiling, he disappeared into the crowd.

Morgan spoke first. “Yo, he’s incorrigible, but I like him.”

“I figured you might, so I sent him over to talk to you. And I told

him to be available for anything you need this semester. He’s been here

so long he could walk the halls blindfolded. His office is next to yours.

Jim is harmless, though he puts on such a big show about acting like a

letch.”

“Thanks for taking such good care of me.”

“It’s my job, sweetie. Now, I need to mingle and I want you with

me. One way to get the new kids invested in the school year is the

promise of things to come. I plan to talk you into staying for a while

and I want them to meet our new resident celebrity. Meeting you should

inspire them to stick it out through the nasty first year so they can take

fun classes like yours.”

Morgan thought back to her time in this very law school and

remembered the first year had been at once exciting and horrible. She

pledged to do her part to help smooth the way and accompanied Yolanda

on her first circuit around the room to meet a dizzying number of new

students. Of course, she couldn’t tell new from old very well, since this

was her first time to meet any of the students present. One student in

particular tried mightily to monopolize her attention. She had to catch

Jim’s eye from across the room, imploring him to intervene.

“Gerald, I see you’ve met our new professor, Professor Bradley.”

Jim positioned himself between Morgan and the student.

“Yes, Professor Spencer. I wanted to get her take on the recent

Supreme Court opinion regarding lethal injections. I know she

advocated for the appeal, but my question to her has to do with how the

decision will be applied.”

Jim laughed. “Gerald, let me tell you what I think is cruel and

unusual punishment. It’s talking about Supreme Court opinions at a

cocktail party. Now, run along and mentor your new folks and leave the

professor to lighter conversation.”

Gerald glanced at Morgan with a puzzled look, nodded, and

then made his way to the bar. As he left, Jim leaned close to Morgan,

whispering, “In case you couldn’t tell, he’s an idiot.”

• 34 •

It Should Be a Crime

“Isn’t he the class president?”

“Okay, he’s a popular idiot. I’m sure he wants to endear himself to

you. His father is a bigwig white-collar crime lawyer in town. Gerald

has the same charm as dear old dad, but his smarts aren’t all there. You

can bet all he knows about the opinion is what he heard on talk radio,

but he figures if he can impress his father by relaying he discussed a

case with you, he’ll look like a smartie himself even though none of his

daddy’s famous white-collar clients are in fear of the needle. If you like

brownnosers, he’ll be one of your best.”

“Hate them.”

“Again, I knew I was going to like you. Now, there’s a group

of students over here who would love to meet the new celebrity on

campus. I’ve already vetted them and found them to be worthy. Come

with me.” Offering his arm, Jim led Morgan over to a cluster of excited

first-years.

v

Parker hardly worked at all the rest of the night. Everyone at the

bar wanted to either buy her a drink or take a turn on the dance floor.

Irene laughed off Parker’s protestations and told her to have fun. She

made it clear she had only gotten Parker to work this shift as a ruse to

throw her the party.

Finally, all danced out and a bit buzzed, Parker decided she need

to head home. Tomorrow was Sunday, and Monday marked the start of

classes. Knowing she didn’t have the resiliency of her undergraduate

years, she would need all day tomorrow to recover from tonight’s

festivities. Although steady enough to politely refuse the many offers

of an escort, she knew she shouldn’t be driving. Irene promised to get

her car safely home and told Dannie to drive Parker home.

Once safely inside her house, Parker was suddenly ravenous. She

made a beeline for the kitchen. There, standing in front of the open

refrigerator, was her other roommate, Kelsey James. Kelsey, like her

sister, was a fiery redhead, but the similarities stopped there. Where

Erin was petite and thin, Kelsey was tall and curvy.

“Well, if isn’t the elusive Dr. James. Fix me dinner?”

Kelsey smiled. “Why, Parker Casey, attorney at law. Shouldn’t

you rich lawyers have chefs and maids to do your bidding?”

• 35 •

carsen taite

“How about you high-powered surgeons? Where in the world is

your staff?”

Both often joked about being rich someday and how all the money

they would make would barely be enough to pay off all the bills they

accumulated while striving to achieve their respective successes. Fact

was they barely saw each other, their schedules were so different. Parker

was glad to have a few minutes alone with Kelsey. The two had been

fast friends for many years. Kelsey and Erin had inherited the house

they shared and, while it had immeasurable sentimental value, the

sisters weren’t at a place in their lives where they could afford to keep it

on their own. The sisters thought it was fate when Parker found herself

in need of a new place to live just as Kelsey contemplated running an ad

for renters. Kelsey was making a tuna sandwich and offered to make an

extra for Parker. Preparing the sandwich, Kelsey asked, “So, who was

the cute little girl who drove you home tonight?”

“Who? Oh, Dannie. She works at the bar. Irene decided to make

tonight into a huge party in my honor and I had a little too much to

drink. So Dannie drove me home.”

Kelsey smiled a knowing smile. “Drove you home, huh? Did you

happen to stop at her place along the way? I only got a glimpse, but I

could tell she is totally into you.”

Parker punched her in the arm. “Give me a break! She’s, like,

twelve. Besides, I don’t mix dating and business.”

“Please. You bring home ‘dates’ from the bar all the time.”

“Never people I work with.”

“Well, it’s probably time you settled down with some cute

lawyer type anyway. When are you going to bag one of your fellow

students?”

“Same principle, James. School is business. I don’t mix business

and pleasure. It makes things too complicated.”

“You’re full of crap, Casey. Med students go after each other like

rabbits. It’s not like we have time or opportunity to meet anyone outside

of our clan. Are law students too good to do each other?”

“Judging by how many at school are screwing around, the answer

to your question is no. Everyone does it, but I’m not everyone. I’ve

seen sex and what folks thought was love ruin good friendships, break

up entire study groups, and tank exams for even the smartest folks. We

spend too much time together as it is, we don’t need to inbreed too.”

• 36 •

It Should Be a Crime

“Wow, Casey. Tell me how you really feel.”

“It’s not a judgment thing, I swear. It’s just not for me. I need to

be able to focus on my goals, and having a relationship with someone

who’s right there in the center of all my hard work distracts me. Besides,

I haven’t had any trouble meeting women outside of school.”

“By ‘meeting’ you mean picking them up, bringing them home,

and rarely seeing them again, right?”

Parker shrugged. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

v

Morgan crawled into bed, exhausted. She snuggled into the

luxurious linens and reflected on the evening. She’d actually had fun.

The thing about first-year law students was they were still developing

their egos and there wasn’t as much know-it-all-ness to get in the way

of their appreciation for a good story. Yolanda pushed her to recount

a couple of tales of recent successes to the newbies and they seemed

enthralled at the telling. Great for my ego, Morgan thought.

She glanced around the room. She knew she needed to call the real

estate agent Yolanda had suggested. She didn’t want to live in a hotel

the rest of her life. Morgan figured the market was good enough that

a house would be a good investment even if she chose not to stay in

Dallas after her teaching contract was up.

The phone on the bedside table rang loudly. Morgan debated letting

it ring, but the constant ringing would be as annoying as answering the

call. She knew it was the hotel operator, but what message the operator

was passing along was a mystery. For the past week and a half, Tina

had called the hotel repeatedly, all her calls focused on mending their

severed relationship. Morgan had no desire to communicate with Tina

except through their respective lawyers. She realized moving to Dallas

with the intent of fixing what was beyond repair had been a mistake.

While she was willing to accept her own culpability in their relationship

downfall, she wasn’t willing to prolong the agony. Tired of listening to

Tina’s endless promises to change, she’d resorted to having the hotel

operator screen her calls.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, Ms. Bradley. I have Ms. Yolanda Ramirez on the

line. Would you like to take the call?”

• 37 •

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“Sure, please put her through.”

A moment passed while the call connected, then Yolanda’s vibrant

voice came through. “You weren’t asleep, were you?”

“About to be. Why are you still up?”

“I had to stay up to finish talking to all the students who don’t know

how to tell when it’s polite to leave a party. I have so many stories about

how wonderful you are, but I was so busy listening to how wonderful

you are I forgot to plan our brunch. Do you want to come here?”

“No way. You did your share of hosting tonight. Pick a place, my

treat.”

“I was hoping you would say that. Let’s go to La Duni. It’s not far

from your hotel. I’ll pick you up at eleven.”

“Deal.”

v

The Latin brunch was excellent and they lingered over the best

mochas in town after devouring plates of migas and a basket of Cuban

pastries. Having spent the entire meal dissecting the previous evening,

Yolanda finally questioned Morgan about her breakup with Tina.

“Has she been unfaithful before?”

“Yes, this wasn’t the first time. But this time I finally realized what

I should’ve known all along. I don’t care enough to be mad. Hurt, yes,

but angry? I think you have to truly care about someone to muster up

enough feeling to get angry. The hurt stems from thinking we must have

loved each other once, and it’s apparent neither one of us cares enough

about each other to show some respect by breaking off the relationship.

Going on like we are, pretending our problems will go away on their

own, is plain crazy and I’m relieved we’re putting an end to it.”

“So, you’re done?”

“Completely. I had my lawyer get in touch with her lawyer last

week. We never mingled our finances, so all I want is to facilitate the

return of some of my personal things. She owns the monstrosity of a

house and I don’t want any part of it.” Morgan noted worry creep across

her face. “What’s on your mind, Yo?”

“Frankly, I’m concerned about how I’m going to keep you here.

The only reason you came in the first place was because of Tina.”

“True, I agreed to the move because I thought it would give us a

• 38 •

It Should Be a Crime

fresh start, but despite what happened, I’m here now and I don’t plan on

going anywhere. I sold the house back East. Maybe I need a fresh start

on my own, and I may as well get it here.”

“Not worried about running into Tina?”

“Like I said, Yo, I don’t care. I can’t seem to conjure up much

feeling about her right now. Seeing her is like seeing a stranger. Sad,

huh?”

Yolanda paused before her next question, as if cautious about

broaching the subject. “Didn’t you mention something about a good-

looking woman soothing your breaking heart the night you caught Tina

at the bar?”

“Leave it to you not to forget the details.” Morgan smiled at the

thought of waking up beside Parker after a night of wanton sex. By

way of conversation, they’d shared little more than first names, but

the intimacy they’d shared had been worth a thousand words. Morgan

had never been with a more attentive lover. Despite the fact they were

strangers, their every action had been familiar, welcome, natural.

Staring across the table, she wasn’t sure she had the words to convey

to Yolanda the enormity of the interaction. She realized it didn’t matter

since she doubted she would ever see the woman from the bar again.

Morgan didn’t spend a lot of time in bars. She only went on that

particular night to surprise Tina. Mission accomplished, she thought,

wryly. Having been a trial attorney for most of her adult life, Morgan

was discreet about her activities. She never knew if a potential juror

might be lurking around the next corner.

“Morgan?”

Morgan realized she had yet to answer the initial question. She

told Yolanda about how she had foolishly gotten locked out of the bar

and gave up details about the bartender who rescued her. “She was

gorgeous and expressed an immediate interest. I was pissed at Tina and

had no desire to go home and deal with her shit, so I went home with

the woman. One thing led to another and we had fantastic sex.”

“Wow, you make my Saturday nights seem indubitably lame. Are

you going to see her again?”

“I don’t even know her last name.”

“You know where she lives. How did you leave things?”

“She was fast asleep when I left, as beautiful in the sober light of

morning as she was the night before.”

• 39 •

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“Sounds like someone is kicking themselves over missed future

opportunities.”

“How do I say this? What was perfect that evening isn’t likely

to be replicated. I needed the experience, needed confirmation I’m

desirable. I got what I needed, end of story. No need to double-dip to try

to make the experience more than it was.”

Yolanda gave her a knowing smile, but didn’t pursue the matter.

“Fine, now you’ve sown your wild oats. Ready for the first day of

classes tomorrow?”

“Actually, I’m looking forward to it. I have a genuinely positive

outlook. After these last few months, I don’t think anything could throw

me off my game.”

• 40 •

It Should Be a Crime

chapter Four

When am I going to learn I’m not as invulnerable as I was

in my youth?” Parker spoke to the mirror, whose unkind

reflection revealed a bleary, puffy-eyed version of her former self. She

splashed cold water on her face in a futile attempt to wash away the

signs of her exhaustion. She had purposefully done absolutely nothing

the day before, choosing to spend the Sunday before classes began

nursing her hangover in hopes its effects would fade before Monday.

Unfortunately, what once took a half day to recover from, now delivered

a knockout punch that set her back much longer. She stalked from the

bathroom into the hallway, muttering, “Damn you, Irene.”

“Hey, Casey, are you still hungover?” Erin had made the mistake

yesterday of beating on Parker’s door early in the morning in an attempt

to rouse her for a morning run. This morning Erin was up early again,

coffee in one hand, newspaper in the other.

“Why do you want to know? Have plans to run a marathon and

need a companion?”

“A few miles are all I had planned. You act like I tried to get you

to do an Ironman. Jeez, you’re still pretty grouchy. Maybe you should

head back to bed and skip the first day.”

“Where’s Kelsey?”

“Long gone. She’s started a forty-eight-hour shift last night.

Whatcha need?”

“I want medical advice or maybe a quickie surgery. Look at these

bags under my eyes. I feel okay, but I look like shit.”

• 41 •

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“Vanity, vanity. What if I told you I had something to fix you right

up?”

Parker grabbed Erin’s arm and jokingly twisted it behind her back.

“I’d say give it to me now.”

Erin slapped at Parker with her free hand, playing along. “Let me

go, fool, and I’ll help you out. You’ve got to cheer up, though. This is

the first day of your last year. You should be happy as a clam.”

Parker pointed at her face. “Eyes, Erin. I need you to focus on

fixing me up, and then I’ll be cheerful.”

Parker followed Erin to her room and lay on the bed as Erin

directed. As Erin fumbled through the drawers in her bathroom, she

called out, “If having your way with me is a cure, I want you to know

you don’t need any accessories. Get in here and cure away.” Parker was

joking. Erin was engaged to a fellow grad student and they were madly

in love.

Erin emerged from the bathroom with a frosted glass jar. “You

wish, Casey. Though I’m sure Bob would love it if I brought home

tales of how I ravaged you while you lay helpless on my bed, I have

better things to do. Now, close your eyes and lay back.”

“I’m not helpless.”

“Who’s the one with the puffy eyes and no cure?”

Parker lay still while Erin applied moist cotton discs to her

eyelids. “What are those? They smell nice.”

“Cucumber eye pads. They’re great, even better if they’ve been in

the fridge, but you’ll have to make do. Keep your eyes closed for fifteen

minutes, and then you can get up and throw the pads away. You should

look much better.”

“Thanks, Erin.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.” Erin sat on the edge of the bed and

shook the newspaper in Parker’s direction. “Did you hear about Camille

Burke?”

The name sounded familiar to Parker, but she couldn’t quite place

it. “Not sure I know who you’re talking about.”

“You know—the Highland Park Burkes. Camille is Lester Burke’s

daughter.” Erin waited till Parker nodded in recognition. “Camille was

murdered Friday night at the Burke mansion.”

“How did she die? Was it a burglary? Right there in the house?”

Parker fired off questions faster than Erin could answer.

• 42 •

It Should Be a Crime

“Slow down. I can’t read that fast.” Erin skimmed the paper. “The

story’s shy on detail.”

Parker nodded. “Cops are probably holding back a lot of the

facts.”

“I knew her,” Erin said quietly.

Parker sat up and pulled the pads off her eyes. “I’m sorry, Erin.

Were you close?”

Erin shook her head. “No, not really. At least we haven’t been for

a while. We were in a lot of the same classes as undergrads, but lost

touch when we started different graduate programs.”

“What was she like?”

“Sweet girl. Quiet. Not what you’d expect coming from a filthy

rich family.”

Parker curled Erin into a strong hug. “Funny, no matter how much

we think we know, we still have the capacity to be surprised.”

v

Morgan’s first class of the day wasn’t until ten thirty, but she

still arrived early to review her lecture notes for Criminal Procedure.

In addition to Criminal Procedure, she was teaching an Advanced

Evidence practicum this semester. Two classes wasn’t much, but it was

what Yolanda was able to conjure up on short notice. The Advanced

Evidence course was one not usually offered except when a willing

professor stepped up to take it on, and she certainly qualified for the

task. The practicum was a hands-on class for third-years, focusing

on practical application of the legal skills they had acquired in their

Evidence lecture classes. Morgan’s years in the courtroom gave her

plenty of footnotes to make the class colorful and interesting.

Satisfied her notes were in order, Morgan wandered from her

office in search of the snack bar. The small eating venue hadn’t changed

much since she’d been enrolled as a student, with the exception of the

addition of a few new vending machines. Steaming cup of coffee in

hand, she wandered out into the common area, finding a place to take

in the sights. The first-year students all invariably had a look of awe on

their faces, as if they couldn’t quite believe they had been welcomed

into this elite society yet. Morgan knew it wouldn’t take long before

lines of stress would replace the surprised looks, and she didn’t envy

• 43 •

carsen taite

them. It was her first day too, but she’d commanded both courtrooms

and classrooms before, and her fear was limited to the fact this was her

alma mater and she wanted to do it justice.

v

At the far end of the common area, Parker glanced at her watch.

She spent the last thirty minutes patiently answering last-minute

questions from her mentees, Henry and Nicole, but now it was time for

her to head to class. She asked the two if they had anything else they

needed.

Henry spoke first. “Nope. By the way, you missed quite a party

at the dean’s house Saturday night. The new criminal law professor,

Morgan Bradley, was there. Damn, she has some great stories to tell.”

Nicole chimed in. “You’ve probably seen her on Court TV, she

does a lot of commentary. She’s one of those perfect people, beautiful,

smart, and articulate.” Nicole’s sigh conveyed her own wish to be one

of “those” people.

Parker replied, “Bradley? Of course I’ve heard of her, but I’m a

third-year, do you think I have time to watch TV? Frankly, your TV

watching days are over as well.” Parker stood. “I have to go. Good luck

with the rest of your day. Feel free to call me if you need anything.”

Parker strolled across the common area. She needed to make a

quick stop at the registrar’s office before heading to her next class.

v

Morgan burned her tongue as the overly large gulp of coffee sizzled

its way down her throat. She thought to herself, surely the woman

crossing the room wasn’t Parker? The tall, beautiful brunette strolled

out of sight before Morgan could be sure, but something about the gait

and carriage of the woman caught her eye and held her captive. Morgan

noted that she walked with great confidence, as if she owned the place.

Surely it wasn’t the bartender from two weeks ago. Though cocky in

her own element, she couldn’t have looked similarly comfortable in

this institute of higher learning. Shrugging, Morgan rose and walked

back to her office to retrieve her lecture notes.

v

• 44 •

It Should Be a Crime

\Parker reviewed the syllabus from her Advanced Legal Research

class in between bites of a grilled cheese sandwich. Most of the

semester’s projects called for teamwork, so she’d have to figure out who

in the class she wanted to work with. She knew she was often sought

after by many of the other students, primarily because of her high class

standing. She was on track to graduate magna cum laude, and while

she could always be counted on to help her fellow students, she didn’t

want to do anything to put her own scores at risk. This research class

involved a series of complex research assignments and would be hard

enough without the added task of managing group dynamics.

“Hey, Parker, aren’t you signed up for the Evidence practicum?”

Parker looked up at the tall, burly redhead standing over her. Dex

Gallagher, another third-year, was one of Parker’s best law school

buddies. Dex, like Parker, was singularly focused on criminal law as

a future career, but unlike Parker, he planned to start out working as a

prosecutor. To further his goal, he had completed internships at both the

local county district attorney’s office and the United States Attorney for

the Northern District of Texas. Though their end goals were different,

their path was the same and the two had become fast friends while

enrolled in all the same classes.

“Hey, Dex, I sure am.” Glancing at her watch, Parker realized

class would start in a few minutes. “Carry my books to class?”

“Still trying to get me to be your boyfriend after all these years?”

Dex winked. “When are you going to realize I only want to be

friends?”

The joke was old. The first year in school, Dex had asked Parker

out on numerous occasions. Reluctant to share personal details about

herself, Parker begged off with her standard excuse. She didn’t want to

get involved with anyone at school, too messy, too complicated. When

Dex came up with a thousand reasons why it wasn’t, Parker finally

told Dex her sexual orientation. Dex had recovered from his unrequited

attraction and channeled his passion into a devout friendship. The two

had been inseparable study buddies ever since.

They made their way to class and staked claim to adjoining seats

near the jury box. The classroom was one of two moot courtrooms at the

school. This one was far superior, having been outfitted with cutting-

edge courtroom technology. Used primarily by moot court and mock

• 45 •

carsen taite

trial teams for practice, it also doubled as a classroom for practical

application classes such as the Advanced Evidence class.

Dex leaned over to Parker. “Did you hear who they finally signed

to teach this class?”

“No, actually, I went to see the registrar about it this morning, but I

didn’t get in due to a long line of first-years stalking her. I was going to

tell her I didn’t want to commit when they weren’t even sure they had a

permanent instructor. Last I heard, Professor Wilson unexpectedly quit.

I don’t need the hours to graduate and I can think of better things to do

than take six hours from a fill-in prof.”

“Quit bragging about all your extra hours. Some of us need this

class. Besides, you’re going to love the prof they got. Hell, she’s

famous.”

Parker raised her eyebrows, waiting for the name.

“Oh, here she is. Better sit up straight and stop talking so you can

impress the pretty new teacher.”

Parker turned in her seat, looking in the direction Dex had been

focused. Pretty was not an accurate description. Morgan was a knockout.

Her wavy auburn hair trailed to her shoulders and her emerald green

eyes swept the room in crystal focus. Her height was accentuated by

stylish pumps with three-inch heels, and the hemline of her skirt showed

off well-toned calves. Her suit was designer with lines both soft and

sharp, blending femininity and power in its russet silk threads.

A shove to her side shook Parker from her reverie. Dex leaned

close and whispered, “Close your mouth, Casey. You’re starting to

drool.”

Parker recovered enough to whisper with jagged breath, “She’s

the professor?”

“Yep. Morgan Bradley,” Dex responded, adding, “She’s one of

those hotshot attorneys who’s always on Court TV, commenting on

cases like Michael Jackson and Enron.”

Dex was still talking, but Parker heard only “Morgan Bradley.” She

had certainly heard of Morgan Bradley and her high-profile cases, but

she rarely watched television and wasn’t sure she could have picked her

out in a crowd. She had no doubt, though—the commanding presence

standing a few feet away was the beautiful woman from the alley who

had shared her bed for one night and lurked in her thoughts ever since.

Confused and feeling strangely vulnerable herself, Parker waved off

• 46 •

It Should Be a Crime

Dex’s whispered fascination with the new professor and lowered her

head. Flipping through pages of her notebook, she studiously avoided

looking at the woman holding court at the front of the room. Willing

herself to another place, she registered little of the words spoken.

“Since this is a very hands-on class, I want us all to get to know each

other. We’ll be working in various combinations of groups throughout

the semester. If you haven’t already, you’ll learn what it’s like to work

in teams when the stakes are the highest. And I’m not talking about

your grades. I’m talking about the life and liberty of the person you’ve

been chosen to defend or the right of the individual wronged to see

the defendant brought to justice. This class will focus on evidence in

criminal cases. If you want to focus on civil litigation or you want an

evidence course for your transcript so you can look well-rounded to

prospective employers, this is not the course for you. We’ll be doing

simulations of real case problems, all of them using real criminal cases

as the basis for our studies. If you want a drop slip, see me after class.

Now, let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves.”

Dex poked Parker in the side. “Wake up, darling, you’re about to

have to state your name, rank, and serial number.”

Parker stole a sidelong glance at Dex, then at the front of the room.

Morgan was faced slightly away from her, focusing on the student

at the other end of their row to start the introductions. Furtive looks

around the room revealed all escape possibilities were blocked by the

presence of other students. In mere moments, she’d have to face the

woman she’d never expected to see again. The prospect was at once

titillating and formidable.

v

Years on the courtroom stage gave Morgan the skill it took

to cloak her surprise behind knowing smiles. It happened to every

experienced attorney. Days of preparation were rendered useless the

moment a witness took the stand and began to spin tales that were made

up as they went along. In court, Morgan would have a split second to

decide whether to show or hide her surprise at being caught off guard.

If she had evidence in reserve she could use to impeach the witness’s

credibility, a show of surprise was a great effect: “Really, Mister So-

and-So? Are you saying the defendant told you he killed the maid?”

• 47 •

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She would exaggerate the question, reeling the witness in, getting them

to totally commit to their answer all the while waiting to whip out a

series of written statements they’d provided to law enforcement stating

conclusively the defendant had never confessed. On the other hand,

sometimes the witness would pop off with a response she didn’t expect

and had no way of disproving. On those occasions she found it was best

to hold her surprise in check, never letting the jury know her composure

had been seriously knocked down a notch. Glancing down the aisle past

the student giving the class his name, Morgan realized she was about

to face a situation requiring more composure than she had ever been

called upon to use in the courtroom.

“Dex Gallagher, third-year, future U.S. Attorney for the Northern

District of Texas.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Mr. U.S. Attorney.” Turning to Parker,

Morgan felt herself pause longer than necessary before asking, “And

you are?”

As Parker turned to face her, Morgan nearly choked. There was no

doubt in her mind, whatever name this woman uttered, she was Parker,

the mysterious woman from the bar who had already introduced herself

in ways Morgan should be blushing about. Feeling the heat rise to her

cheeks, she willed it away waiting to hear Parker’s opening remarks.

“Hi, Professor Bradley, my name is Parker Casey. I’m a third-

year, and I hope my career path is as successful as yours.”

Her tone was easy and even. She didn’t bat an eye. Did I hear,

Morgan wondered, a slight emphasis on the word “professor”? Not

ready to break the connection, Morgan asked, “You want to be a law

professor?”

“I’ll settle for high-powered criminal defense attorney.”

“Fair enough.” Morgan paused, not quite ready to break contact

either. “I’ll do my best to share all of my skills.” Did I really just say

that? She must think I’m crazy standing up here acting like we’ve

never met. This disconcerted feeling was unfamiliar to her. Unaware of

how much time had passed, she moved on, hastening to minimize the

appearance of discomfort.

The rest of the class was a blur. Morgan went over the syllabus,

divided the class into groups, and made the first assignment. Although

she planned to let class out early on the first day, their freedom came

far earlier than she originally intended. She remained at the front of the

• 48 •

It Should Be a Crime

room as the students filed out, simultaneously hoping for and dreading

an encounter with a certain dark-haired third-year. As Parker walked

toward her, she nearly jumped out of her skin at a voice from behind

her.

“Professor Bradley, may I ask you a question?”

Morgan reluctantly released her gaze in Parker’s direction and

turned toward the voice. She saw a young female student who seemed

very excited to have her full attention. “Uh, sure. What can I do for

you?”

“Well, I was thinking about what you said at the beginning of class

and wanted to discuss whether I should stay or drop. You see…”

Morgan didn’t hear the rest, focused as she was on the departing

Parker. Even though she willed the connection, she was startled again

when, as Parker reached the door of the classroom she turned and shot

Morgan a slow, easy smile, searing in its implication. Morgan covered

her surprise at the unexpected contact and returned the favor. It wasn’t

until that very moment Morgan knew for sure Parker remembered

her, and she wondered what she was going to do with that nugget of

information.

v

Parker begged off Dex’s invitation to grab a sandwich and went

outside to find a place to collect her thoughts. She sprawled onto a bench

and closed her eyes. Despite her show of bravado in the classroom, she

was completely blown away to find the woman who had last occupied

her bed was Morgan Bradley, celebrity criminal defense lawyer, popular

TV commentator and, most surprising of all, her law professor. She

didn’t want to drop the class. She wanted it on her résumé to impress

future employers. Parker felt trapped.

Eyes shut, she pictured Morgan Bradley, dressed to the nines,

standing at the front of the classroom. She looked completely in her

element, totally in charge. And totally hot, Parker mused. Dex would

simply die if he knew the famous Morgan Bradley’s body had lain

naked on every stick of furniture she owned. Remembering the night

they spent together, Parker corrected herself. Morgan hadn’t simply

lain there. She’d been a wildcat, their night of sex filled with passionate

agility. Reliving the memories, Parker, eyes still closed, smiled.

• 49 •

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“Am I interrupting anything?”

Parker recognized the voice, but recognition didn’t minimize

the shock of hearing it here, where she wasn’t expecting to encounter

Morgan. The surprise nearly caused Parker to fall off the bench.

“Um, no. Do you need something?” Realizing she sounded

abrupt, Parker started again, “I mean, hi, and no, you aren’t interrupting

anything. Do you want to sit down?”

Morgan glanced around before she replied. “Actually, yes, I

would.” She looked pointedly at Parker’s still sprawled form. Parker

grinned sheepishly and sat upright, folding her legs underneath the

bench.

Seated, Morgan turned toward Parker. “I thought we should talk.”

Parker merely raised her eyebrows. Morgan continued, “I’m thinking

neither one of us expected to see the other again.” Parker nodded. She

didn’t want to taint whatever Morgan had to say by interjecting her own

affirmations or denials.

“And certainly neither one of us expected to see each other here,

in these roles.”

“Roles?” Parker asked.

“Me teacher, you student.”

“Oh, yeah. Those roles.”

“I had fun with you. You are pretty amazing.”

Parker was surprised at the unexpected compliment. As awkward

as this situation was, she actually felt very comfortable sitting an arm’s

length away from Morgan Bradley, famous lawyer. In fact, the only

discomfort she felt was a persistent nagging need to lean over and

kiss the lips of her law professor. Shaking herself out of the trance

threatening to make her act on the need, she replied, “Why, thanks,

Professor, you were pretty amazing yourself.”

“As much as I would love to see you again, you realize we

can’t.”

Parker didn’t speak. Although she’d already had the same thoughts,

her recent recollections were coloring her ability to think clearly. She

knew Morgan was right, but she wished she had been the one to speak

the words. Parker was used to calling the shots.

“Parker, did you hear me?”

Shrugging, she replied, “Sorry, I did hear you. I completely

understand.” As she spoke the words, she saw relief spread over

• 50 •

It Should Be a Crime

Morgan’s face and it made her unreasonably angry. Parker wondered

why it should be so easy for Morgan to decide the one night was it,

especially considering she was on fire just sitting next to her . How

in the hell am I going to make it through an entire semester without

exploding? Unable to resist a dig, she felt compelled to add, “Some

people are capable of keeping their personal lives private and some

aren’t.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, urging Parker to continue.

“Now, take me for instance. I’m perfectly capable of having hot,

healthy, recreational sex with another consenting adult without letting

it interfere with my professional life. You, on the other hand, may be

one of those people who can’t. I respect our differences.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Morgan’s eyebrow was still raised and she

wore a smug smile that threatened to send Parker over the edge.

Incapable of stopping, she continued. “Sure. Look, I know you

are attracted to me and I know you had a great time the night we were

together. But if having fun makes it too difficult for you to function

professionally or should I say, professorially, I understand.” As soon as

the words left her mouth she wanted to take them back, but pride forced

her to wait for a response. Morgan’s reply immediately signaled Parker

wasn’t winning any points in this conversation.

“Really?” Morgan’s smile turned to a scowl and she growled back,

“I promise you I am capable of more than you will ever know, but that’s

not the issue here. This situation is simple: you’re a student and I’m

your instructor. Those are lines I’m not willing to cross. I don’t have

sex with my students.” Her last words with delivered emphatically.

It was Parker’s turn to to be smug. “Little late, don’t you think?”

She glanced down at the bench as if to invite her to vacate. Morgan,

taking the hint, rose and surrendered her seat. As she walked away,

she shook her head, but didn’t turn back in Parker’s direction. Parker

waited till Morgan was out of sight before taking off herself, in the

opposite direction. Her surprise at seeing Morgan again in this setting,

combined with the volatility of their exchange, resulted in a raging

rush of hormones. Excitement warred with wounded pride and she was

confused by her mixed reactions. She wasn’t used to wanting seconds

from the women she chose to share her bed, but she was also used

to being the one to make that decision. Morgan had beaten her to the

punch, but Parker wondered if she was more upset about the timing of

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Morgan’s rejection or the fact Morgan had rejected her at all. She shook

away the desire to answer her own question and decided to blow off an

afternoon in the library in favor of a workout at the campus gym. As she

walked away from the law school, she ran into Dex, who was walking

toward her with several of their friends.

“Hey, Parker, ready to divvy up outlines?”

With an internal groan at his eagerness to get a jump on the new

semester, Parker asked, “Now?”

“You have something better to do?”

“Actually, I was on my way to the gym.”

“Great. Let’s do this first and then I’ll join you. You could go now

on your own, but I swear we’ll stick you with the worst sections.”

Parker knew Dex was only half teasing. Outlining was the bane

and boon of every law student’s existence. The key was to split the task

of producing a comprehensive outline of the text and classroom notes

for each section of the syllabus among group members whose work you

knew and respected. Parker, Dex, and three others had worked together

to create intricate outlines since their first semester in school. The size

of the group had fluctuated over the last year as the individuals pursued

various electives, but when it came to core courses, they still met as a

group to share their skills. This semester they were all signed up for

Ethics with Dr. Spencer, who had a reputation for grueling exams.

Parker weighed her options and decided the gym could wait and she

agreed to join her friends.

“Fine, Dex. If you’re going to threaten me. But I’m holding you to

your promise—a full workout after we meet.”

“Yeah, like I scare you. It’s a deal.”

Parker let Dex lead her to the library where he had reserved one of

the small study rooms available for this purpose.

v

“Hi there, have you eaten?”

Morgan looked up from the papers she’d been pretending to

study and flashed a weak smile at her visitor. “Hi, Jim. Actually, no. I

haven’t.”

“Then join me. I was about to head to out for lunch.”

Morgan vacillated between her desire to wallow in self-pity

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It Should Be a Crime

over the incident with Parker and the competing desire to socialize in

this new environment. The recent confrontation had robbed her of an

appetite, but she realized life on campus was so much easier when you

had some friends or at least acquaintances to point out all the inside

information. She hated continually bugging Yolanda with questions, so

she’d best buck up and make nice with Jim Spencer. He had taught

at the university for so long there was likely nothing he didn’t know.

Morgan pushed aside lingering regret over her disturbing encounter

with Parker and agreed to join him for lunch.

“Thanks, Jim. I’d love to join you.”

Within twenty minutes they had walked across the street and were

seated at Peggy Sue BBQ in Snyder Plaza, a unique blend of upscale

shops, eclectic restaurants, and college textbook stores. Morgan glanced

over the menu and remarked, “Good thing I’m not a vegetarian.”

“Oops, guess I should’ve asked,” Jim said. “I hope you like

barbeque. It’s kind of a prerequisite if you’re going to live in Texas.”

Morgan smiled. “I guess Dean Ramirez didn’t tell you I grew up

here. I’ve eaten more than my fair share of brisket and ribs over the

years.”

“Well then, I challenge you to a rib-eating duel. Let’s order the

combination rib platter and see who can eat the most!”

Laughing at his exuberance, Morgan placed her order, eschewing

his challenge in favor of a brisket plate with fried okra and squash

casserole. As Jim gave his order to their waitress, she sized him up.

He appeared to be in his mid-fifties, with graying hair. She could tell

he cared about his appearance. He wore an expensive suit, carefully

tailored, definitely not off the rack. Many full-time professors opted for

the “I don’t need to conform to the image of workaday lawyers,” which

resulted in a poorly matched, ill-fitting parade of outfits. Morgan was

relieved to see she wasn’t the only one to buck the trend.

Morgan decided to use the time waiting for their food to gently

pump Jim for information about the school, and she decided to be direct

about it.

“So, Jim, tell me everything I need to know about our fine law

school to make this year go as smoothly as possible.”

“Ah, a lady who cuts to the chase. I like, I like.” Jim cocked his

head. “First, let me be direct. Do you have dinner plans for Saturday

night?”

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“Turnabout is fair play, I suppose. I’ll be equally direct. I do not

have dinner plans, but I am fresh from a breakup and have no interest

in anything other than platonic friendships.” Morgan decided she could

be direct without full disclosure. As far as she knew, Yo was the only

one on faculty who knew she was a lesbian and, while she didn’t go

out of her way to hide her sexual orientation, she didn’t feel the need to

advertise it either.

“So, you’re not gay, just freshly burned?”

Though their exchange had thus far been refreshingly direct,

Morgan was taken aback by the focus on her sexuality. She was used

to speculation about her sexual orientation. Living in the limelight, as

she had the last decade, she’d had to face the question from inquiring

press minds. Somehow she’d managed to deflect, quick to point out

the subject was entirely irrelevant to the issue at hand, which usually

concerned one of her cases or a case on which she was asked to consult.

She had declined all requests for personal interviews and, she reflected

with a grimace, she and Tina had been living separate lives for so long

the mere fact they shared an address didn’t provide any direct evidence

of an intimate relationship between them. She stared across the table

attempting to assess his sincerity. Finally calculating her trust would

be well placed with Jim Spencer—after all, Yo would certainly have

warned her otherwise—she decided to tell him the truth.

“Yes, on top of my other reasons for not wanting to date, I’m a

lesbian. Are you still buying lunch, because I’m planning on having

dessert.” She watched as Jim worked his way through her remark,

finally deciding she was kidding with him.

“Okay, now we have the important matters settled. So, I have first-

base seats to the Rangers game Saturday. Care to join me? Aren’t the

folks who play for your team good at catching fly balls?” Jim waited

through the several seconds it took for Morgan to realize she was being

teased back by an artful kidder.

“Deal. Now, you owe me some intel.”

“What do you want to know about first, faculty or students?”

Morgan reflected before answering. “Students, since I’m already

in the midst of dealing with them.”

Jim spent the next half hour giving her the spiel on the various

groups of second- and third-years she was likely to encounter in her

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It Should Be a Crime

classes. As he talked, Morgan was grateful she had accepted both the

lunch invitation and Jim’s overtures at friendship. He was going to be a

valuable source of information, and he was harmless.

“Use Casey and Gallagher, they’re both great students and they

know everyone else in the school.”

Morgan realized she had missed part of Jim’s remarks during her

musings. “Pardon?”

“Dex Gallagher and Parker Casey. They’re in your trial practice

seminar.”

“Sorry. Yes, they are. What can you tell me about them?”

“They have a friendly rivalry to be first in their class, which

drives them both to be the best students they can be. Their study

group consistently gets top marks in all their classes. Plus they’re both

older than the average student, so they have more life experience and

perspective. Personally, I find the older students refreshing.”

“I know what you mean. Sometimes I can’t imagine being as

young and naïve as some of these kids. I think the ones who’ve already

been out in the working world have a better shot at being successful

in whatever field of law they choose to practice.” She waited, hoping

Jim would continue to provide detail about at least one of his favorite

students. She didn’t have to wait long.

“I agree. Gallagher was a DEA agent before he came to law school,

which probably explains his earnest desire to be on the ‘right’ side of

the law and order equation. Casey has an interesting background as

well. You should get her to tell you more about it. Suffice it to say, she

has a tendency to root for the underdog. She’s worked the entire last

summer at the Tarrant County public defender’s office. She’s not afraid

to work harder than everyone else, which probably explains why she’s

on track to graduate top in her class.”

Morgan concealed her surprise. She had made assumptions about

Parker Casey and they were wrong. Apparently, Parker’s skills included

more than merely mixing drinks. She felt the heat of her own blush

as she reflected on her personal experience with the skills of Parker

Casey. Fighting away the heat of the memory, she spoke. “She seems

to be very perceptive.” Morgan shuddered internally at the lameness of

her remark. She looked up from her plate and noticed Jim was gazing

intently in her direction. “What?”

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He shrugged. “You’re very astute. She does have a way of sizing

up a situation. You’re pretty perceptive yourself, especially for someone

who’s been teaching here all of one day.”

“Why thank you, Professor Spencer.” Morgan put her fork down,

sighing. “If I eat one more bite, I will surely die.”

“Doubtful, but you will surely sleep through your afternoon office

hours. I guess this means I don’t have to buy you dessert?”

“Hell no. I will, however, take a rain check in the form of ice

cream at the ball game on Saturday.”

Jim stood and motioned to the cash register in the front of the

restaurant. “Ice cream it is, but please don’t say ‘rain’ in the same

sentence as ‘ball game.’”

Morgan smiled and accompanied him back to campus. She

was grateful to have had the distraction from thinking about her

confrontation with Parker Casey, though she was certain the reprieve

was short-lived.

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It Should Be a Crime

chapter Five

In the classroom, Parker was glad for the opportunity to

sit wherever she wanted. Many law school professors, too

important to be bothered with the task of learning their students’ names,

had their students all sit in the same places for each class so they could

refer to a chart rather than their memory for the appropriate appellation.

Apparently, Professor Bradley didn’t need the extra assistance to learn

her students’ names, Parker thought.

She had been simultaneously dreading and welcoming the second

session of class. Following the meeting with her study group yesterday

afternoon, she had retired to the gym and put herself through a rigorous

two-hour workout. Her attempt to exhaust her mind with physical

exertion was an utter failure, however, and she’d been able to think of

little other than the striking Morgan Bradley in the hours since.

Parker glanced around for Dex. She had expected him to be in

class already, especially since he had their completed first assignment

with him. It had been interesting, though not hard in the least. Each

pair had been assigned the task of locating a movie clip that contained

an example of what they thought were excellent cross-examination

techniques. Parker had to admit the assignment had been fun. Dex and

Parker had descended on the local video rental store and cleaned them

out of legal dramas and even comedies, since Dex lobbied hard for My

Cousin Vinny.

Dex slid into his seat at the same moment Professor Bradley

strode into the room. Today she sported a slightly more casual ensemble

than the day before, but she was still impeccably groomed. The sleek,

classic lines of her charcoal gray gabardine pantsuit cried out expensive

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tailoring and Parker idly contemplated whether Morgan had her suits

custom made. Those thoughts dissolved into wondering whose hands

had been lucky enough to drape fine cloth over the beautiful body

standing before her now, fast followed by unbridled jealousy toward

the imagined tailor. A punch in the ribs startled her out of her musings.

“Did you hear a word I said?”

Parker half turned to Dex and pretended to pay attention. “Sure,

something about the DVD,” she guessed.

“Uh, no. But I have the DVD right here,” Dex whispered, nodding

to the front of the room. “I wanted to talk to you about the study group,

but it looks like we’re about to get started here.”

Parker followed his glance back to the front of the room. “I’ve got

some free time after class. We can talk then.”

v

Once class started, Morgan Bradley commanded the stage. “I’m

sure many of you wonder why I decided to start with cross-examination

techniques.” Noting several nodding heads, she continued, “It’s true,

most trial and evidence classes begin with what evidence is admissible

and the skills involved in direct examination. Frankly, I don’t have a

strategic reason, but I think crossing witnesses is the most fun a lawyer

can have—legally, anyway.

“Which team wants to go first?” Morgan forced herself not to look

in the direction her eyes had been drawn since she walked in the room.

She was having trouble deciding how to deal with the fact she and

Parker were destined to spend many hours a week together in roles so

very different than the ones they had occupied the night they met. Her

body could not deny the force of feeling that swept through it every

time she glanced Parker’s way. Parker Casey possessed head-turning

good looks requiring no assistance from wardrobe and makeup. Today

she wore a T-shirt and jeans, the same or similar to the well-worn 501s

Morgan had peeled off her the night they met. Her hair was rumpled

and fell in endearing chaos to twist around her ears and collar. Morgan

sighed as she felt a searing need to run her hands through Parker’s thick

hair and create some chaos of her own. This is never going to work, she

thought ruefully.

Years of practice made it possible for her to hide her personal

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It Should Be a Crime

feelings and forge ahead. She called on team after team, studiously

avoiding the Gallagher-Casey duo until last. When she finally ran out

of other options, she turned her attention to the final pair and hoped

against hope they didn’t have another DVD of My Cousin Vinny to

offer. I know Dallas is a big city, but seriously, how many copies of the

damn movie are still in existence, she wondered.

Dex took the lead while Parker acted as AV aide to his running

commentary. The clip they chose was from A Few Good Men, the scene

where Tom Cruise’s Lieutenant Kaffee tangled with Jack Nicholson’s

Colonel Jessup. Dex was animated in his presentation of this defense

lawyer cross-examination which Morgan found amusing considering

his devotion to the prosecutorial side of legal practice.

“So, what’s your favorite part of this cross-examination?” Morgan

directed the question to Dex since he was obviously the lead showman

in this particular presentation.

“I guess it would have to be the part where Jack Nicholson gets

into it with Tom Cruise and starts screaming ‘You can’t handle the

truth.’ Makes for some great high drama.”

“Oh, it’s definitely great drama.” Turning to the class, Morgan

switched back into lecture mode. “I chose this particular exercise for a

reason, and I’m pleased to report the clips each of you chose demonstrated

my next point perfectly.” Pausing for effect, she continued, “Drama is

for the movies or TV. It’s the result of highly scripted dialogue designed

to elicit the maximum punch. It cannot be replicated in the courtroom.

Good drama in the courtroom is organic. It comes from all the pieces

coming together in a way you cannot plan for because you don’t control

all of the elements.

“What you can do, however, is be prepared. Be prepared with

knowledge and skill. When you finish with this class, you will have

superior skills you can translate into any situation, in any case. You will

be skilled at conducting an efficient and slaying cross-examination. If,

at some point in your career, you also get to be a part of some amazing

courtroom drama, consider it a bonus.”

Morgan waited a moment to let her pronouncement sink in. She

was aware her words disappointed some in the group who thought the

hotshot lawyer was here to teach them how to attain fame and fortune

in a few easy steps. Better they figure it out now, she decided. Most

trials were fairly boring, and though she’d had more than her fair share

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of movielike moments in the courtroom, those moments were few

in comparison to the hundreds of unexciting but razor-edged cross-

examinations that won her cases time and time again.

v

Parker was impressed by Morgan’s honesty. She undoubtedly had

an arsenal of tales to tell, all casting her in the starring role of winning

criminal defense lawyer. However, instead of resorting to replays of

The Morgan Bradley Show, she seemed genuinely interested in teaching

real skills at the risk of making her accomplishments look achievable to

the average lawyer.

The next hour was in lecture format and Morgan finished by

handing out assignments for the next class. Parker glanced over the

assignment and realized she and Dex were probably going to need to

schedule a regular time to meet in addition to their usual study group

meetings. This particular assignment provided a case study, complete

with relevant facts and listed witnesses whose cross-examination

they were to prepare. They would take the role of witness and lawyer

respectively and “perform” their examinations for the rest of the class.

As the students trickled out of the classroom, Parker hung back,

hoping to catch a moment alone with Morgan. Their encounter the day

before had been eating away at her, and she sincerely wanted to square

things between them. For all her words of bravado, she agreed with

Morgan. There was no way they could repeat what happened between

them. It wasn’t practical, and she was sorry she’d let her pride get in the

way of agreeing when Morgan brought up the issue.

As she waited, she grew increasingly frustrated at the number of

other students who also seemed intent on a moment alone with Morgan.

Watching Morgan patiently answer each question, Parker started to

fume. She was reaching her boiling point when she felt a tap on her

shoulder and she twisted around, ready to strike.

“Whoa there, don’t hit me!” Dex feigned a look of fear.

Parker relaxed. A little. She wasn’t used to being frustrated with

Dex, but lately his timing left a lot to be desired. Parker took a deep

breath and told herself there was no way Dex could possibly read her

mind.

“Sorry, I’m a little tense today.”

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It Should Be a Crime

“A little? Whatcha hanging around for?”

It would seem strange if she told him she wanted to talk to the

professor about the assignment since they would be working on it

together, she thought. Oh well, it’s not like I’m not going to see her

again soon.

“No reason. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do next.”

“How about a workout and then we can grab some dinner while

we go over this assignment?”

Thinking a strenuous workout was probably the best medicine for

her tension, Parker agreed.

• 61 •

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It Should Be a Crime

chapter six

Morgan liked the look of the restaurant. It had the feel of

being in someone’s home. Someone’s very well-kept, well-

designed home. Paintings from local artists adorned the walls and the

bar area had a cozy feel. She glanced around looking for the woman

whose photo she had seen on the Internet.

“Can I help you?”

Morgan turned in the direction of the deep voice. The woman

posing the question was dressed in khaki pants, an oxford cloth button-

down shirt, and Doc Martens, all items signaling “uniform.” Short-

cropped hair and a sturdy bearing also signaled “lesbian,” and Morgan

vaguely remembered Yolanda mentioning the Lakeside was owned by

a lesbian. Taking a chance, Morgan thrust out a hand.

“Actually, I’m supposed to be meeting someone. My name is

Morgan Bradley. Is this your restaurant?”

The woman chuckled. “When things aren’t running smoothly. I’m

the manager, Sally Gannon. Mackenzie Lewis is the owner. Did you

have an appointment to meet with her?”

“No, I’m here to meet with an Aimee Howard. I’ve seen her

picture, though, so I’m sure I can wander around and find her.”

“No need. She’s out on the Dock. I’ll take you to her.”

Ms. Howard must be a regular, Morgan reflected as she followed

Sally through the restaurant. No wonder she picked this place, she must

feel very comfortable here.

As they stepped out onto the patio deck, Morgan’s eyes immediately

found the woman she was here to meet. She was every bit as beautiful

as her picture, though not at all Morgan’s type. Aimee Howard was a

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buxom blonde, curvy and soft. She was in no way fat, but she definitely

did not possess the lean, athletic body type Morgan was attracted to.

And that’s for the best, Morgan decided.

Sally made the formal introductions and then left them to their

privacy, promising to send a waitperson over in a few minutes to see if

they needed anything. A scrumptious-looking plate of appetizers was

already on the table along with a bottle of Pinot Grigio and two glasses.

Aimee motioned for Morgan to take a seat and she poured her a glass

of wine.

“Thanks for meeting me here. On a beautiful day like today, I

think it’s important to be outdoors.” Aimee glanced around and added

with a grin, “Well, as least as close to outdoors as you can be and still

have all your creature comforts. My best friends own this place and,

I must confess, it’s more like home to me than my own kitchen. The

food’s better too,” she added with a grin.

“Thank you for meeting with me in the evening,” Morgan replied.

“My days have been packed the last few weeks, and evenings are the

only time I can seem to squeeze in personal needs.”

“Well, consider me in charge of this particular personal need.”

Aimee handed a bulging folder to her. “I’ve pulled an extensive list of

houses based on the sketchy parameters you e-mailed to me. Before we

start looking, I’ll want you to go through this list and narrow it down

so I can focus on what you are looking for in a new home. I thought we

could do some of the narrowing down together tonight so I can get an

idea of what you’re looking for.”

Feeling the weight of the folder, Morgan realized she hadn’t been

very specific in her description of what she wanted, partly because she

wasn’t sure. She knew she needed to find a place to live besides the

luxurious Palomar. She had fond memories from her time in law school

of tree-lined East Dallas neighborhoods with wood frame houses seated

on large lots. Not sure where to begin, she had followed Yolanda’s

suggestion to hire a realtor. Yolanda had recommended Aimee Howard,

who specialized in the well-established and even historic homes located

in East Dallas.

Morgan opened the folder and started sifting through the pages.

“Wow, you’ve given me a lot of choices. Sure you want to watch me

wade through all of these?”

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“It’ll go faster than you think. As you start looking, you’ll realize

there are certain things you can’t live without, meaning we’ll discard

a bunch of these right off the top. When you think you have the list

narrowed down, we’ll drive the neighborhoods. Some of them you’ll

dismiss on sight, without even going in. We real estate folk are trained

to write excellent marketing materials on the homes we have listed, but

what’s on that paper doesn’t always measure up in real life. Kind of like

pitching a case to a jury, right?”

Conceding the point, she replied, “Yeah, you’re right. We’re

both in the marketing business, in a way. Though right now, I’m not

practicing. I’m sure Yolanda told you I’m teaching at the law school.”

“She did mention your new position when she gave me the details

of your needs.”

Morgan caught the sultry undertone and wondered what else

Yolanda the matchmaker had mentioned to her.

Aimee changed the subject. “Say, did you hear the story on the

news about Camille Burke? Isn’t she a student at your school?”

Morgan shook her head. “I did hear the story. She was a graduate

student in the art department. I only heard she had been murdered, but

I’ve missed the follow-up stories. Apparently, the Burke family is a big

contributor to the university, which is probably the only reason I heard

anything about this at all.”

“The news report on the radio earlier today said she’d been shot

and they think the family handyman did it.”

“Interesting. I don’t envy his attorney. From what I hear, the

Burkes are an influential bunch. They’ll want his head on a platter.”

“Do you miss being in private practice?”

“I enjoy teaching. It’s invigorating, working with eager students

who are excited about the prospect of practicing law.” She realized she

hadn’t answered the question, but she didn’t know how to answer. There

were things she missed about private practice, but she was also grateful

not to be running her own business while she was slowly recovering

from moving across the country and breaking up with Tina.

Aimee changed her line of questioning back to real estate. “Do

you have any particular reasons for wanting to live in East Dallas?”

Morgan told Aimee about growing up and going to school in the

area and she listed off her favorite things about life there. Their discussion

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lasted through several glasses of wine and most of the appetizers on

the platter between them. She found herself liking Aimee, not only for

her professionalism, but also her easy way of inviting conversation.

Morgan was pleased at the realization she might have herself a friend

outside the law school.

Aimee interrupted their discussion to ask, “Do you know the dark-

haired beauty who’s staring you down, or is she a secret admirer?”

Startled at the change in topic, Morgan shook her head. “Excuse

me?”

“Over there.” Aimee jerked her head almost imperceptibly. “She’s

with the big guy with red hair. Wait a minute, she’s still looking, or

should I say glaring? Wait, wait, okay now, quick.”

Morgan turned her head slowly, feigning a stretch. She was too

slow, however, and as her gaze connected on the couple across the room,

Parker squarely met her glance. Without time to compose herself, she

gasped in surprise.

v

Parker entered the restaurant and walked straight toward the wood-

deck patio nicknamed the Dock by patrons of the Lakeside. As she

suspected, Dex was already there making short work of an enormous

gourmet hamburger. She plucked a sweet potato fry from his plate and

slid into the chair across from him, munching the crispy snack.

“Thanks for waiting.”

“Sorry, Parker, I was starving and you were late. Eat all the fries

you want. I prefer real potatoes.”

“Sweet potatoes are real potatoes, silly boy. And they’re better

for you, though judging by the size of the burger you’re eating, you

couldn’t care less about your health.”

Dex’s only response was to smile around the edges of the bun he

held up to his mouth.

Parker ordered a turkey club and then spread her papers across the

table. “I’ve been thinking about this and I don’t think she’s going to

have us question each other in class.”

“Huh?”

“Keep up, man. I don’t think she’s going to have us question

the person we prepared,” Parker repeated. “You don’t get to prepare

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It Should Be a Crime

adverse witnesses in real life, so it doesn’t make sense she would have

us do it in her class. I think she’s going to switch things around when

we get to class.”

“Makes sense. So what do you suggest we do to prepare?”

“I say we spend our time brainstorming what points we want to get

out of the cross-examination and then work out the narrowest questions

possible to box the witness in.”

“That’s one way of doing it.”

“You have a better plan?”

“We could walk over and ask Professor Bradley how she wants it

done.” Dex pointed across the room.

Parker looked in the direction he was pointing. Morgan was

dressed casually and the look did nothing to diminish her beauty. She

wore jeans, sandals, and a sleeveless yellow linen shirt, which showed

off tan, fit arms. Her toenails were painted in a soft pearl shade and she

sat with one leg tucked under the other. Everything about her bearing

conveyed she was relaxed in her surroundings, having a good time, and

Parker glanced away from her only long enough to take in Morgan’s

companion. She scowled at the blonde who was sharing wine and

laughs with Morgan.

As the blonde looked up, Parker realized she was staring and

hastily glanced away. Finally replying to Dex, she said, “Nah, looks

like she’s busy. We’re smart. We can figure this out ourselves.” Her

easy tone didn’t betray the anxiety she felt at seeing Morgan in this

setting.

“Sure, Casey, whatever you think.” Dex pushed aside the platter

containing the remnants of his meal and started pulling out papers

to begin their work. As she watched him prepare, Parker felt heat on

the back of her neck. She knew someone was staring at her and she

suspected it was the blonde, returning looks. She turned slowly to meet

the gaze, but the eyes meeting hers were unmistakably Morgan’s.

v

“Aimee, would you excuse me for a moment?” Morgan asked,

already out of her chair. Barely waiting for a nod, she walked across the

patio toward the table Dex and Parker shared.

“Dex, Parker, how’re you doing?”

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“Great, Professor,” Dex answered. “Though we’d be doing even

better if we were here without an assignment to work on.”

“Oh, am I working you too hard?” Morgan kept her focus on

Dex Gallagher though Parker’s presence pulled at her, calling out for

attention.

“Well, Casey here thinks you’re trying to trip us up on the

assignment, lulling us into thinking we’re preparing our witnesses for

a cross-exam, but you actually intend to have us mix it up in class

to show how you don’t get to prep your adverse witnesses in the real

world.”

Grateful for the opportunity to focus her attention on Parker,

Morgan turned to her, her heart pounding. She tried for a teasing tone

as she asked, “Parker, do you think I would set you up to fail?”

Parker met her look and held it. “I think you would do whatever

you felt was necessary to prove a point.” The words were delivered

with a calm, deliberate tone, but Morgan heard the undercurrent of

anger. She didn’t blame Parker. She felt the heat flaming between

them, but she had no plans to ignore common sense and fuel the fire.

Risking a prolonged look into the eyes turned her way, she admitted

to herself the difficulty of the situation. Every moment in Parker’s

presence was a searing reminder of what was possible when passion

reigned. For one night, Parker’s undivided attention to her every need

had awakened in her the want she had suppressed for years, years spent

in a dead relationship where desires died of disinterest. Ignoring the

voice within crying out for her not to ignore those desires any longer,

Morgan pulled herself together to respond.

“Trick’s on me then, since you’ve figured out my strategy. I

suppose I now know who my best students are going to be.”

Dex smiled, while Parker’s face was impassive. “There was never

any question,” she said.

v

“Parker Casey, what the hell are you doing here on a

weeknight?”

“Back off, Irene, I swear I cleaned my room and finished all my

homework.” Parker’s tone was jesting, but Irene knew her well enough

to know not to push matters.

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It Should Be a Crime

“Fine, girl. I suppose you’re entitled to blow off some steam

considering how hard you’re working. Beer?”

Parker relaxed and she settled onto a barstool. “Great, thanks.”

“Hey, Parker, how’re ya doing?”

Parker turned to meet Dannie’s enthusiastic glance and couldn’t

ignore the outstretched arms. Dannie was truly adorable and when she

got to be a few years older, she would rule this roost. Parker knew because

for years she had been the one in charge, picking who she wanted from

the crowds of women who came here, all seeking something different

in the same safe place. Parker hadn’t had a real crush in years, but she

knew what it felt like to be the object of other women’s avid affections.

The feeling was empowering.

Releasing Dannie from the hug, Parker replied, “I’m doing all

right. How ’bout you?”

“Good, but we miss having you around. Glad you stopped by. Can

I buy you a drink?”

“When you turn twenty-one you can. In the meantime, I’ll buy my

own, but thanks for the offer.” Parker ruffled Dannie’s hair and softened

her words with a warm smile.

v

Morgan was beginning to believe her second trip to the bar was a

mistake. She hadn’t been ready to go back to her lonely hotel room and

she didn’t feel like returning to her office. Aimee had asked her to stay

for dinner, but Morgan detected an undercurrent of desire she didn’t

share, so she begged off what was likely to turn into an uncomfortable

encounter.

She would have been content to nurse a drink by herself in a

corner booth with the presence of others serving as a backdrop to keep

her from feeling truly alone. But her plan for solitude in the sparsely

populated bar was foiled when she caught sight of Parker Casey seated

at the bar. Her thoughts were invaded by feelings—strong, passionate

feelings, all of which were hungry for attention and determined to drive

away all reason. She had only herself to blame. You knew she works

here, she chided herself.

She watched the easy exchange between Parker and the young

androgynous barback with mounting jealousy as she noted the

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comfortably casual way Parker touched the other woman. Morgan

forced herself to look deep into her vodka tonic, willing away the

exchange taking place nearby. She felt rather than saw a body slide into

the leather booth beside her. Morgan took her eyes off the floating ice

cubes long enough to turn and tell the unwanted presence she longed to

be alone. Surprise stopped the words before they left her lips.

“Why, Professor, twice in one day! We should be more careful.

People might begin to talk.”

Morgan bit back a sharp retort when she noticed the teasing gleam

in her eyes. Distracted as she was by the heat of Parker’s presence, she

knew enough to know she was being baited and she was determined to

keep the upper hand. Matching Parker’s tone, she replied, “Should I

obtain a restraining order?”

“You may need one.” Parker grabbed Morgan’s hand and pulled

her from the booth. Morgan amazed herself by following without

resistance.

Moments later, they were standing in the alley. Morgan didn’t

notice the smells or trash this time. All her senses were focused on

Parker’s commanding presence. She felt a rush of heat as her thundering

heart pushed blood fast and furious through her veins. She offered no

protest as Parker pulled her into strong arms and kissed her with roaring

passion. In this moment they were not teacher and student. They were

once again strangers meeting in a strange place. The memory of the night

they shared as strangers warmed her to this embrace. She kissed Parker

with abandon, crushing her lips, melding her body against Parker’s

welcoming frame, willing away all the barriers between them.

Her will wasn’t strong enough. She pulled away even as Parker

moved closer, groaning soft words against her neck. Hearing her voice

brought back the reality of their relationship. They weren’t strangers

meeting for the first time. They were well known to each other in

positions that rendered their current embrace taboo. Morgan was torn

between temptation and convention. Convention won the first round.

“I have to go.” Morgan’s breathing was labored.

Parker stepped closer. “No, Morgan. You don’t.”

“Yes. I do.”

Parker placed a hand on either shoulder and gave Morgan a gentle

shake. “You don’t get it, do you? We’re both adults. There’s nothing

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It Should Be a Crime

wrong with the attraction between us. I make it a rule not to fool around

with anyone at school, and if I’d met you there first, we never would

have had the night we had. But it didn’t work out that way, and I don’t

see any logic in pretending things are anything other than what they

are.”

“And what, pray tell, are they?”

Parker’s lips delivered a complete and wordless response. Morgan

ceded her last grasp at maintaining their formal roles and answered

with equal passion. The deep kiss left her breathless and wanting. When

Parker inclined her head in the direction of the path they had taken the

night they first met, Morgan could only nod and follow.

v

The house was exactly as she remembered it. Morgan followed

Parker up the stairs again, fighting away a persistent thought. Leave now

before things get really complicated. As if sensing her consternation,

Parker turned and gathered her into a tight embrace. She kissed Morgan

and her tongue teased away all doubt.

“Who was the blonde?” Parker asked.

Morgan, hazy with lust, murmured back a question. “Huh?

Blonde?”

Parker smiled. “Never mind.”

When they reached the room, Parker wasted no time trying to get

Morgan undressed while ignoring Morgan’s attempts to do the same

to her. Parker was intent on being in charge this time, knowing that

outside this room, in the halls of the law school, Morgan would always

be the one in control.

“My turn this time.”

“Your turn?” Morgan raised her eyebrow and flashed a questioning

smile.

“I believe last time we were here, I let you run the show.” Parker

began to unbutton Morgan’s shirt. “Now it’s my turn.”

Morgan answered by placing her hand over Parker’s and pulling it

to her mouth. She eased Parker’s index finger into her mouth and stroked

it with her tongue. Parker tried to continue unfastening Morgan’s shirt

with her free hand, but Morgan’s warm, wet tongue drew her deeper,

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caressing the sensitive web of skin between her fingers. For a moment

Parker forgot what she was doing, where she was. Ironically, it was

Morgan’s voice that drew her back into the moment.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Parker opened her eyes. Her hand was back by her side

and the only evidence of Morgan’s mesmerizing kisses was the cool

moisture on her still slick finger.

Morgan met her glance. “Yes. I think you should run the show.”

She finished what Parker started, undid the last button of her shirt and

slid it from her shoulders. “You’re in charge.”

Parker knew she wasn’t, but she played the role as if it were hers.

She didn’t bother with the niceties of candlelight this time but relied

instead on the thin shafts of streetlight through the slits of the window

blinds and the trace of her own touch to view Morgan’s beautiful body.

Parker watched Morgan shift from one foot to the other as she stood

nude at the foot of the bed while Parker, still dressed, slowly observed

her every feature. She wondered if Morgan’s uneasiness had as much

to do with the balance of power as it did with her exposed flesh. As if in

answer, Morgan reached for Parker’s shirt, tugging it out of her jeans.

“Take your clothes off.”

“I suppose you’re going to say you want to feel my skin against

yours?” Parker breathed the words into Morgan’s ear. Morgan responded

by twisting her hand in the cloth of Parker’s shirt and sliding her palm

against the exposed skin. Parker’s breath caught at the sudden charge of

the impact. Morgan’s touch was as electrifying as she remembered and

she almost ceded her control. Almost.

“Well, I happen to agree.” Parker gathered Morgan’s hands into

her own and leaned closer. “Here, let me show you.” She grazed the soft

skin of Morgan’s neck with her lips and tongue, licking a path to her

luscious earlobe where she lingered, coaxing Morgan into submission.

It didn’t take long. As Morgan wilted against her, Parker held her in a

strong embrace before gently easing her onto the bed. Lying on her back,

arms above her head, Morgan was at once vulnerable and stunning. The

vulnerability threw Parker off balance for a moment, but she quickly

recovered her composure. She wanted to savor this experience and she

wasn’t going to let the reservations Morgan had expressed earlier get in

the way of the undeniable attraction she felt.

Parker pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor. She

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It Should Be a Crime

grasped Morgan’s wrists and held them tight while she lowered her body

just enough to let her breasts rub against the hard arousal of Morgan’s

nipples. Parker sucked in her breath as Morgan bucked against her,

but she kept the rest of her skin just out of reach though she ached to

meet Morgan’s insistent pursuit. Parker slid down and rested a denim-

covered thigh between Morgan’s legs. She felt the heat of Morgan’s

yearning sear through the cloth and groaned at the sensation.

“Touch me,” Morgan begged. Her eyes were dark pools of liquid,

seemingly unfocused as if her sight was turned inward, observing only

the sensations of her own arousal. She struggled, her body straining to

connect with Parker’s. Every ounce of her appeared to be humming

with desire, and Parker suddenly cared less about maintaining control

than about granting Morgan’s request. She dipped her head and flicked

her tongue against a hard nipple, teasing it to its finest point before

she sucked the swollen breast into her mouth. Parker released her grip

on Morgan’s hands to play with Morgan’s other breast, squeezing and

tugging as Morgan raked her nails down the muscles on her back.

Parker groaned. The mix of pain and pleasure bordered on extreme, but

still she craved more.

“I want to taste you.”

“Please,” Morgan pleaded, so unlike the woman who had

commanded their first night together. “I’m so close, I may come the

second you touch me.”

“No, you won’t,” Parker promised. She drew her fingers along

Morgan’s glistening sex, gently opening the soft folds of flesh. Sliding

down, she lowered her head and breathed in the musky aroma of

Morgan’s desire. Parker blew a warm breath across Morgan’s clit before

drawing her into the moisture of her ready mouth. Parker reveled in

the slippery heat against her tongue and the twitch of Morgan’s legs

elicited with each increase in pressure. She caressed Morgan with long,

steady strokes, taking her to the edge and holding her there without

release. When she could feel Morgan edge toward climax, she slid two

fingers inside her and drew herself up along the length of Morgan’s

body, tasting her way back to Morgan’s full, gorgeous breasts. Morgan’s

erect nipples welcomed her touch and Parker licked them hard while

her fingers replaced the stroke of her tongue below. As she lavished

Morgan’s breasts, she straddled her thigh and rubbed her own wet sex

down the length of Morgan’s leg. Lost in the feel of the woman beneath

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her, she was pleasantly startled by the strong thrust of fingers between

her legs. She looked up to see Morgan’s hazy smile and leaned in to

kiss her full, ripe lips. As they kissed, she felt Morgan’s hands on her

breasts, coaxing her nipples into stiff knots, then rubbing them hard

against the satin palm of her hand. Parker found herself on top but

not in charge. As Morgan’s lips and hands explored her mouth, her

breasts, and her aching center, her fervor grew and Parker gave up all

pretense of command. She met Morgan’s thrusts with equal fervor and,

lips locked in heated frenzy, they came together in a roar.

v

Nestled in the crook of Parker’s arm, Morgan pushed the thoughts

crowding her head to regions far from the present time and place.

Morgan took advantage of the last shades of dusk peering through

the blinds to appreciate Parker’s athletic form. She shivered at the

memory of their night of passion. Unlike the first night, bits and pieces

of experience and knowledge added depth to their encounter. Morgan

now knew Parker was intelligent as well as sexy, confident as well as

cocky. She wondered how Parker felt now that she knew the woman

who lay beside her had power that exceeded her ability to make her

partner come.

v

Parker watched the rise and fall of Morgan’s sleeping form and,

not wanting to wake her, resisted the urge to curl her body around her.

She remained content instead to breathe in Morgan’s scent. She was

amused at her inability to look away. She’d spent years loving women

but never letting herself get attached. Parker Casey’s definition of love

was appreciation. She appreciated beautiful women, smart women,

sexy women. She knew how to convey her interest with the most subtle

signals and prided herself on her ability to please without promise.

Parker maintained a friendly, if passing, acquaintance with many of her

sexual partners, though most of her amorous encounters were one-night

stands.

Lying here in bed beside Morgan, she found herself thinking

ahead. Time was too short for all the things she wanted to do, all the

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It Should Be a Crime

things she wanted to say. Morgan had taken her to the edge and Parker

had been so enraptured she would have gladly plunged into the abyss if

Morgan had led her there. She had never allowed herself to experience

such total loss of control and she wondered why she didn’t begrudge

her powerlessness once Morgan touched her. Shaking her head, she

decided to break the parade of thoughts marching her toward unfamiliar

territory and wrapped her arms around Morgan’s sleeping form. Within

moments, Morgan stirred and Parker kissed her gently awake.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.” Morgan stretched her arms and rolled away from her.

“What time is it?” Sitting up, she looked distractedly around the room.

“Don’t worry. Unless you have a six a.m. class, you’re not late

for anything.” Parker grabbed Morgan around the waist and pulled her

back into the covers.

Morgan squirmed out of her grasp. “Seriously, Parker. I need to

get home.”

Parker pinned her down. “Seriously. Do you have a six a.m.

class?”

“No.”

“Then get dressed and have breakfast with me.” She phrased the

request as a gentle command. “Did you drive to the bar?”

Parker watched the “oh shit” expression cross her face and reached

out to grab her hand. “No worries. Let’s have breakfast and I’ll take you

to your car. You’ll still have time to get to wherever you need to be

today. I promise.”

Pulling her hand away, Morgan remarked, “You get up earlier than

most law students I know.”

Parker grinned. “Are you in the habit of noticing the sleeping

patterns of law students?” The frozen look on Morgan’s face was a

clear sign she had said the wrong thing, and she scrambled to recover.

“Besides, I haven’t always been a student.”

“Is that so?”

“That is definitely so,” Parker replied. A moment of silence passed

during which Parker was at once hurt and relieved Morgan didn’t press

her for more detail. She took the absence of follow-up questions to mean

Morgan wasn’t interested in anything more than a physical relationship.

The realization stung, but she pushed past it. Grabbing Morgan’s hand,

she pulled her from the bed. “Come on, I need coffee.”

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Moments later, Parker ushered Morgan into the kitchen. They were

greeted by the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sleepy Kelsey

James greedily sipping from a large mug. Parker felt Morgan stiffen.

She spoke to lighten the mood.

“Good morning, Doctor. You look like you could use a good

night’s sleep instead of the monster cup of java you’re working on.”

“You’re so observant, Parker. I could actually use about two

full days of sleep, but I’m only here to change and this is my quick

salvation.” Kelsey raised her eyebrows in question and nodded toward

Morgan.

“Sorry, I’m impossibly rude before caffeine. Kelsey James, I’d

like you to meet my…friend, Morgan Bradley. Morgan, this is one of

my roommates, Kelsey James.” Glancing back and forth between the

two, Parker asked, “Better?”

Morgan shook Kelsey’s outstretched hand, murmuring, “Nice to

meet you.” Despite the polite veneer, Parker sensed Morgan’s desire to

crawl under a rock rather than be seen so obviously dressed in clothes

from the day before. She shot a look at her, willing Kelsey to get the

picture and exit gracefully. She did exit, though not gracefully.

“As much as I would love to have a leisurely breakfast with

you two, I better get going. Morgan, it was good to meet you. Maybe

next time we’ll have time to talk. I’m a great source for intel on your

breakfast partner.” With a wicked smile, Kelsey grabbed her mug and

strode out of the room, impervious to the daggers Parker was shooting

her way.

“So, you have roommates,” Morgan said dryly.

“I do. Most of the time, I enjoy the company. Today, not so

much.”

Morgan reached across the table, placing her hand on Parker’s.

“She seems very nice. I’m sorry if I seemed unfriendly. I’m a little

anxious about all I have to get done today. Would you mind taking me

to my car now?”

Parker battled the disappointment away from her expression. She

sensed Morgan’s desire for a quick morning-after exit had little to do

with anxiety over her schedule, but she decided not to pursue the point.

“At least let me get you a cup of coffee to go?”

Morgan nodded and moments later, they were speeding away in

Parker’s car to the scene of their first meeting.

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It Should Be a Crime

v

Parker nearly jumped out of her skin before she realized the noise

was nothing more than someone knocking at her bedroom door. She

had been studying, or at least pretending to study, since Friday evening.

Now it was Sunday afternoon and she felt as though she’d accomplished

nothing other than stewing in her thoughts about Morgan. “What is it?”

she called out.

The door creaked upon. “Oh, so you are in here. We’ve been

wondering where the hell you’ve been the past few days.” Kelsey and

Erin entered the room and took up positions on Parker’s bed after they

pushed aside all the books strewn on the comforter.

“I’ve been studying.”

Kelsey ventured a question. “Wanna talk?”

“Not especially, but I get the impression this isn’t about what I

want. You two are up to something. What is it?”

Erin started the conversation. “Kelsey tells me you had a friend

over for breakfast Friday morning.”

Friday seemed like forever ago, Parker thought. Here it was

Sunday afternoon and she’d been able to think of little else since kissing

Morgan good-bye at her car Friday morning. The fierce embrace they

had shared signaled it was more than a “see you soon” good-bye. Since

then she’d glided through Friday’s classes, resisting the urge to walk by

Morgan’s office to catch a glimpse of the real person who now faded

into fantasy. With the weekend almost over, she realized she hadn’t been

mentally present, but had instead slipped into a weird kind of walking

coma which allowed her to accomplish only routine tasks while saving

her from thoughts of what might have been.

“Um, Parker? Are you in there?” Erin waved a hand in front of

Parker’s face.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Wanna tell us about your hot new friend? We couldn’t help but

notice she’s a repeat customer.”

Something about the connotation of the word “customer” made

Parker snap. “What the hell do you mean?”

Kelsey grabbed Parker’s arm and pulled her close. “Hey, tiger,

calm down. We’re not used to you seeing someone more than once. We

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were wondering if we should be reading bridal magazines.” Her teasing

words were delivered with a gentleness designed to soothe the bristling

anger Parker held below the surface. Recognizing her attempt to defuse

the situation, Parker relaxed.

“Sorry, I’m having a bad day.”

“Anything we can do to help?” Erin’s question was tentative.

Parker offered a half-smile. “No, I don’t even know what’s wrong.

I feel like I’m coming out of my skin. Normally, I’d work out to get rid

of this feeling, but I can’t seem to muster up the energy.”

“Casey, are you sure it’s not the girl who’s got you down?” Kelsey

asked.

Parker surprised herself by replying in a muffled voice, “I don’t

know, maybe.”

“She’s beautiful. And, she seems very nice,” Kelsey offered.

“Oh, she’s nice and beautiful all right.” Parker looked at them,

then glanced away, choosing not to see their immediate reaction at her

next words. “She’s a nationally known criminal defense lawyer, TV

commentator, and she also happens to be one of my professors.”

“No way!” Kelsey punched her on the shoulder. “How in the hell

did you two wind up in bed together?”

“Oh, it’s over.” Parker shrugged. “I mean it has to be. We never

would have hooked up if we’d known what we were getting into, but we

met before school started and neither of us had any idea. Conversation

wasn’t big on the list of things we shared the night we met.” Looking

up, she dared them to comment on this revelation.

They both resisted, but Parker could tell by the subtle looks they

exchanged when they thought she wasn’t looking that they wondered if

her affair with Morgan Bradley was truly over. She knew it had to be. For

Parker, who had always placed more value on the heat of the moment

than the emotions she left behind, the realization was crushing.

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It Should Be a Crime

chapter seven

Back East, the night air this time of year would be crisp and

cool. Morgan missed the predictability of the changing

seasons. Here in Dallas, the intense heat of August had boiled over into

a steamy September. Green leaves clung to trees and gardeners still

planted, gambling on endless sunny, warm weather since there seemed

to be no cool winds in sight.

The last week of class had been as stifling as 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

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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.

v

• 80 •

It Should Be a Crime

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 for the

phone, she thought maybe.

“This is Morgan.”

“Morgan, how the hell are you?”

Morgan instantly recognized the voice of Ford Rupley, though

she hadn’t talked to him in almost a year. Her initial disappointment

faded into happiness of a different sort. Ford Rupley was the deputy

chief public defender of Dallas County. He and Morgan had attended

law school together. She felt bad she hadn’t contacted Ford since her

return to Dallas. She kept meaning to, but it seemed the details of all her

current life changes kept getting in the way of reconnecting with her

past. “Ford! Sweetie! It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Are you sure? I haven’t heard from you since you got back to

town.” His tone was teasing, but Morgan recognized a shade of hurt

beneath the surface.

“I’m still reeling from all the changes. I have a lot to report. Let’s

have dinner this week and catch up. My treat. Are you still at the PD’s

office?”

“How about dinner tonight, my treat?”

Morgan glanced down at her attire. She had planned on a cozy

date with the room service menu and was dressed appropriately in silk

pajamas. Much as she would have liked to catch up with Ford over

dinner, she decided to gracefully postpone. She started to turn him

down but was distracted by loud yelling on the other end of the phone

and asked, “Where are you?”

“Lew Sterrett. Can you meet me down here?” Though it had been

a while, Morgan still recalled the reference. Ford was at the Dallas

County Jail.

“What the hell? You’re inviting me to dine at the jail cafeteria?”

“There’s someone here I want you to meet. We’ll eat after.

Seriously, Morgan, I’ll make it worth your while. I promise.”

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The excited pleading in his voice triggered Morgan to react the

way she always did at the prospect of taking on a new venture. Curiosity

battled comfort and won. “Give me thirty minutes. I’ll meet you in the

lobby.”

v

The drive downtown was quick and easy since rush hour was

long over. The Lew Sterrett Justice Center was located just west of

downtown, directly behind the Frank Crowley Criminal Courthouse,

and was the headquarters of the Dallas County jail system. As a young

attorney, Morgan had logged many hours in both of these buildings.

She parked in the open lot across the street from the jail and walked

through the courtyard separating the jail from the courthouse. Ford was

waiting outside.

“Morgan, you look fantastic! Thanks for coming.”

“I assume at some point before I turn into a pumpkin, you’ll let me

know why you summoned me.”

“Let’s sit for a minute.” Ford pointed to a low stone wall. “I want

to talk to you about a very interesting case.”

“And this case must be dealt with under dark of night?”

“I’m in the middle of a capital case. This is the only time I could

meet with him. I want you to work with me on his case.”

“Back up, mister. You’re still at the PD’s office, correct?” At

Ford’s nod, she continued her questions. “And I assume you’ve been

appointed to work on this case?”

“Correct, Counselor. Now before you start lecturing me about

your standard hourly rate, all I’m asking you to do is meet the guy and

hear his story. Whatever you decide after you meet him is completely

up to you.”

Morgan knew it wouldn’t be so simple. Once you knew names

and faces, the intrigue got under your skin. She let several seconds tick

away before deciding it already had. “Okay, what the hell else do I have

to do at midnight on a Wednesday night?”

“Terrific. We don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll hit the highlights

and you can pick up the rest as we go.” In his traditional manner, Ford

buzzed through the details. Toward the end, Morgan felt her head

spinning as she tried to keep up.

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“Luis Chavez, he’s our client, was the trusted handyman for the

Burke family.” He paused while Morgan nodded at the familiar Highland

Park name. “Camille Burke, beloved daughter, was found in her room

with a gaping hole in the middle of her face, and Luis Chavez was

standing over the body. Instead of waiting around to answer questions,

Luis took off and hid out for a few weeks until a concerned citizen

reported his location to the police. He was arrested last night. Turns out

he has a record. Despite his checkered past, he’s always been a great

employee and he’s worked for the Burkes for years.”

“What’s his sheet look like?”

“One felony conviction. Drug case. Possession.”

“Have you met him?”

“Yes. About an hour ago.”

“What does he have to say about all this?”

“Not much. He didn’t kill her. Doesn’t know who did.”

“Lovely. Looks like you have your hands full. You’ll be lucky to

get a plea offer of any kind on a case involving the Burkes.”

“Yeah, you’re right. The odds are stacked against us.” Ford looked

down at his shoes.

“I guess there aren’t any other witnesses?”

“I only had a moment this afternoon to glance at the police report,

but it appears Camille’s brother, Teddy Burke, saw Luis standing in

a pool of blood next to Camille’s freshly dead body. When Luis saw

Teddy, he took off running.”

“That’s not great.”

“True. It’s probably a hopeless case. I should pass it off to one of

my assistants.” Ford shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

Morgan knew she was being played, but she couldn’t resist the

challenge of impossible odds. “I don’t have my bar card with me.” The

card, issued by the state bar, was required in order to transact business

at the jail and the courthouse.

Ford grinned. “I can get you in.”

v

“Sour,” “dank,” and “nasty” were the first words that came

to Morgan’s mind as she sat on the edge of a plastic chair Ford had

dragged into the visitor booth. Ford occupied the round metal seat

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permanently affixed to the floor in what was certainly an ergonomically

incorrect position in relation to the phone secured to the wall. While

they waited for the deputies to escort Luis to the other side of the booth,

Morgan tried to guess how many years had gone by since the county

had decided to forgo simple tasks like cleaning. At this point, it would

take a sandblaster to make a dent in the layers of grime that had been

allowed to form on the walls, the floor, and the counter, and no doubt

such extreme measures had not been included in the budget. As a result,

the entire jail was rank and Morgan tried her best to avoid touching

anything she didn’t have to.

After what seemed like forever, a small Hispanic man entered the

booth, on the other side of the Plexiglas. Nodding to Ford, he picked up

the phone on his side and said hello.

“Hello, Luis. I came back because I want you to meet a colleague

of mine.” Ford waved a hand in Morgan’s direction. “Her name is

Morgan Bradley. She’s an attorney and I want you to talk to her about

what happened.” Ford started to hand the phone to Morgan, but Luis

asked him to wait.

“Is she the prosecutor?”

“No. She’s a friend of mine, a lawyer. I may want her to help me

on your case. Tell her what you told me.” Ford indicated to Morgan

they should switch seats. Morgan barely had the phone in her hand

before Luis started speaking.

“I didn’t kill her.”

“I didn’t ask, but thanks for letting me know that.” Morgan met

Luis’s pleading eyes. “Tell me why you think you were arrested.”

“I don’t know.” Luis sounded dejected. “I was downstairs, fixing

a leak in one of the bathrooms. I heard a noise, like a gun, from above.

I went upstairs to check.”

Morgan urged him on. “What happened next?”

“I saw her. Miss Camille. She was lying on the floor.”

“Was she dead?”

“I don’t know. I guess.” Luis’s squeezed his eyes shut as if to shut

out the memory. “There was blood everywhere.”

“Did you see anyone else?”

“No. Not then. I saw a gun. I picked it up.”

“Why did you pick up the gun, Luis?”

“I was scared. Whoever shot her might come back.”

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His tone was defensive and Morgan decided to leave the “why”

questions for later and stick to the basic facts. “Then what happened?”

“Mr. Burke, he saw me.”

“Where was he?”

“In the door. He looked at the gun in my hand, then he looked at me.”

“What happened next?”

“I threw the gun down and I ran.” As if anticipating Morgan’s next

question, he continued. “I was scared. I didn’t know what else to do. I

hid at a friend’s house. They came and got me last night.”

Morgan didn’t need to ask to know that “they” was probably the

police. “Did they ask you questions when they arrested you?”

“Yes. I told them what I’m telling you. They didn’t care.”

She didn’t see any point in asking him more questions, especially

since she didn’t have the benefit of knowing the exact proof that would

need to be refuted. Morgan offered what she hoped was a sympathetic

smile. “No, I don’t imagine they did. I can tell you this, Luis, you have

a very good attorney. Mr. Rupley will do his best to fight the charge

against you.”

“What about you? Will you help me?”

Morgan shot Ford a pointed look before meeting Luis’s pleading

eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”

v

“How can you eat so much this late at night?”

“It’s not late, it’s early.” Ford grabbed a fistful of fries off Morgan’s

plate to replace his own, which had been consumed within seconds of

reaching the table. “Besides, I need my energy if we’re going to get

right to work.” He grinned.

“I have class in the morning. You, by all means, should burn the

midnight oil on behalf of your client. Let me know how it turns out.”

His expression was pained. “Wait a minute. I was sure I had you

interested enough to work with me on this one. You practically promised

Luis you would work on his case.”

“I did no such thing. Besides, you boxed me in a corner. What was

I supposed to say to the guy?”

“Come on, Morgan. Admit it. You’d love to work with me

again.”

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Ignoring his remark, Morgan asked, “Was there a statement in the

police report from Teddy Burke?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ve been in trial all day and I just got the

summary of the report.”

“Luis said he was working on the downstairs bathroom. Surely

there would have been tools lying around.”

“We’ll have to check the police report to see if they checked.

Or talk to other employees in the house at the time to see what they

remember.”

“What in the world do they think his motive was?”

“That’s a good question.”

“Who’s the prosecutor?”

“Not sure. The case is in Judge Thompson’s court, but I don’t

think it’s been assigned yet. With a victim from the Burke family, I

wouldn’t be surprised if the elected DA gets involved.” As if he could

tell Morgan’s resistance was fading, he pressed on. “I heard you’re

single now. Some extra work would be good for you. Maybe you could

make some new friends.” Ford placed extra emphasis on the word

“friends.”

“Make up your mind. Either I’m the fierce advocate battling law

enforcement or the passion-hungry schoolteacher looking for a good

time. I don’t have the energy for both.” Even as she spoke the words,

she could feel herself giving in.

“Well, when you put it that way…” Ford’s attention returned to

his plate, but a moment later, he used his fork to wave a Eureka! in

the air. “Actually, I’ve got a great idea. What if you could be a fierce

advocate and a schoolteacher? I mean, what if we formed a defense

team using the top students in your Advanced Evidence class? What

better scenarios could you come up with than the real thing? You’d get

to work on this case and your students would get real-life experience.

Mr. Chavez would get a kick-ass defense. Justice for all!”

“No more coffee for you. Seriously, Ford. I have no idea if I could

get permission to run a clinic as part of my class, let alone figure out how

to fit it into the schedule. I would certainly need to run it by Yolanda.”

Even as she spoke, Morgan’s thoughts belied her words. Something

about this particular case intrigued her. She reflected on the vigil for

Camille Burke she had happened upon earlier. All those students,

gathered to mourn a life cut short. The crowd at the makeshift memorial

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was small in comparison to the number of voices that would cry out

for vengeance when Luis went on trial. Maybe it was the challenge of

turning a lost cause into a victory that captured her attention. Whatever

it was, she was already casting a trial team from the students in her

class and, knowing Parker had to be a part, wondering how in the world

they would work together.

Ford shook a French fry in her direction and she set her thoughts

of Parker aside to turn her attention back to him. “Yes?”

“I know you want to work on this case with me. I can see the

gleam in your eyes. Will you at least ask Yolanda?”

“Was there ever any doubt?”

• 87 •

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chapter eight

Is she in?” Morgan asked.

Edith nodded. “Go on back, she’s never too busy for you.”

Yolanda was on the phone, so Morgan waited in the doorway of

Yolanda’s office and considered her approach. She was prepared for some

resistance, considering the Burkes’ generosity, but she had prepared a

courtroom-worthy argument in favor of taking the Luis Chavez case,

complete with an outline of the constitutional implications. She was

ready to pitch her case when Yolanda finished up her phone call and

waved her in.

“Thanks for giving me an excuse to get off the phone.” Yolanda

looked closely at her. “You look like you want something. Finally

decide your office isn’t big enough?”

“No, my office is fine. I was thinking it needs more in it,

though.”

Yolanda looked puzzled and then smiled. “Want to go shopping

for furniture? Please, take me away for an afternoon!”

“No, dear. I was thinking I miss work, the excitement of the

courtroom.”

“Am I losing you already? We’re not even to midterms. Seriously,

Morgan, what can I do to convince you to stay?”

“Oh, I’d be happy to stay. I want to work on a project, though. I

can fit it in with my class. Give them some real-life experience. I could

even pick the best of the lot to be on a trial team if you’d approve me to

work a small clinic practice for extra credit hours.”

“Perfect use of your skills and a great experience for your students.

Where do I sign?”

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“Don’t you want to know more about the project?”

“Unless you’re representing the KKK, I think we’re safe.” Yolanda

looked closely at Morgan’s face. “It isn’t the KKK, is it? Now, don’t

give me a spiel about freedom of speech—”

Morgan interrupted her. “No, it’s an indigent client. I’d be

working with his public defender, Ford Rupley. The client’s name is

Luis Chavez.” Morgan watched Yolanda’s furrowed brow, knowing she

was trying to place the name. She decided to help her out.

“He’s the Burkes’ handyman. He’s charged with the murder of

Camille Burke.” Morgan winced at Yolanda’s sharp intake of breath.

“Now, before you say anything, I know the Burkes have been very

generous to this university.”

“Complete understatement. They’re campus darlings. Lester Burke

will have a coronary when he finds out the students whose education he

helped fund are defending his baby girl’s killer.”

Morgan was poised and ready. “So the people with the money

are the only ones who should reap the benefits of a good defense? And

whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? He’s not a killer

until a jury says he is—wait, did you say ‘defending’? You mean you’ll

let me do this?”

Yolanda’s expression was neutral. “Will you stay the year?”

“Is that a bribe?”

Yolanda smiled. “Bribery? No. Coercion, maybe. This project

will require a great deal of spin on my part, but I’m already working

it out in my head. Why have great teacher talent if we can’t use it?

This demonstrates our commitment to equality. Of course, I’ll have to

impose a few conditions.”

Morgan sighed. She knew there would be a catch.

“Pick your top three students. They can be your trial team. The

rest of the class can work on issues related to the case—motion filings,

etc. Oh, and Gerald Lopez has to be one of the top three.”

“You’re kidding, right? Gerald is an idiot. He couldn’t find his

way out of a paper bag, let alone be able to navigate a courtroom. I

don’t even know why he’s in my class. He’ll never make it as a trial

lawyer.”

“Cool your jets, hotshot. I happen to agree with you. But Gerald’s

daddy is a big donor. Not a Lester Burke–size donor, but big nevertheless.

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It Should Be a Crime

If we can make him happy by giving his baby boy a chance to show

off in court, I can fade some of the heat I’ll get from the trustees about

Burke.”

“You drive a hard bargain. Maybe you should get back into private

practice. Fine, it’s a deal. Now, I’m leaving before you tack on any

more conditions.” Morgan turned as she walked through the doorway.

“Oh, Yolanda?”

“Yes?”

“I would’ve agreed to stay two years.”

v

An hour later, Morgan sat in her office pondering the best way to

approach this project with her students. Part of her wanted to use her

autocratic power and select the students she wanted to work with. Her

bargain with Yolanda meant she only had two slots to work with, and

Dex and Parker topped the list. Both older students, they possessed

a unique perspective, and there was no question they were the top of

their class. But Morgan knew she couldn’t pick Parker, not without a

process.

A small part of Morgan felt guilty for not confiding her affair

to Yolanda. She decided a confession at this point would merely

complicate matters, and since the affair was over, the complication was

unnecessary.

Morgan spent the next hour devising a method to select her trial

team. She wanted to make the announcement in class and select the

students by the end of the week so they could begin working. She

decided she would take Jim Spencer up on his offer to help her out.

She would convince him and Yolanda to do the judging. Then Yolanda

would be solely responsible for making sure Gerald made the team,

and surely Parker’s innate talents would win her a place on the team.

Morgan had every confidence in Parker’s talent.

v

Dex pushed Parker along as they made their way to Morgan’s

office. “Come on, don’t you want to find out if we made it?”

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“We, huh? What if only one of us made the team?”

Dex punched her in the arm. “Not a chance. We’re the two

musketeers!”

Parker couldn’t help but catch his infectious grin. “You dope, it’s

three, not two, musketeers.”

Dex stopped in front of the closed office door and ran his finger

over the index card taped under Morgan’s nameplate. When he turned

to face Parker his grin was gone.

“As usual, you’re right, but you’ll probably be sorry you were.”

Parker pushed past him trying to get to the door. “What the hell?”

She ran her finger along the posted names. “Damn, how the hell did he

make it?”

“They need three musketeers?” Dex offered.

“Whatever. I can’t work with him. This is going to be hard enough,”

Parker muttered. She wished she hadn’t spoken the last words out loud,

but having to work side by side with Morgan was going to be enough of

a challenge without having Gerald Lopez in the mix. How in the world

had he made the team, she wondered. He had the trial skills of a gnat.

“Oh, lighten up. His daddy probably bought him a place on the

team. Don’t worry. With our combined expertise, his ineptitude will

barely be noticed.”

Parked frowned. “What scares me is no one seemed to notice in

the first place.” She resolved to let it go, but she was having a hard time

shaking the disappointment of knowing Gerald Lopez had been picked

for the trial team. Maybe his father’s influence did have something

to do with it, which almost made it worse since it meant Morgan had

succumbed to conventional pressure rather than doing what was right.

Parker had had her fill of people who didn’t possess the courage of their

convictions. That she had had to sue her former employer, the Dallas

Police Department, to make them admit they had wronged her still

rankled. That she had lost a friend and lover because the other woman,

her partner on the force, had refused to admit the same wrong cut Parker

to the core. She knew it was naïve, but she had expected more integrity

from Morgan. Wistfully, Parker realized keeping her relationship with

Morgan strictly within the bounds of teacher and student was probably

for the best.

v

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Morgan debated canceling the meeting. She and Ford had

scheduled their first meeting with the students who would be working

on the trial team for this afternoon, but he called to say he was stuck

in court and to go on without him. She had spent time reviewing the

bare-bones police report Ford had obtained from the prosecutor, so she

was prepared to discuss the basic facts of the case and the work to be

done. What she wasn’t prepared for was working with Parker in such

close proximity. The last few weeks in the large classroom setting had

been difficult enough. She should never have gone to the bar that last

time. She couldn’t deny the attraction, but she certainly didn’t have

to put herself in the path of destruction. And there was no doubt that

continuing to act on her attraction to her student would be destructive.

The lack of sleep and focus she experienced now were mere precursors

of the havoc she was sure to experience if she had sex with Parker

again.

A knock on the door startled Morgan from her thoughts. As the

students entered, she made a command decision to move the meeting

from her office to the classroom. She met Gerald and Dex halfway to

the door.

“It’s a bit cramped in here. Let’s take this to the classroom.” Morgan

led the way, her glance sweeping the hall, but Parker was nowhere in

sight. Dex, perhaps seeing her looking around, offered, “She’s on her

way. She had a little bit of trouble with her baby.” At Morgan’s raised

eyebrows, he continued, “Her car. It may as well be a baby, the way she

takes care of it.”

“She should junk that old thing and get some new wheels.”

Gerald’s tone was disdainful.

Dex punched him on the arm. “You only wish you could handle a

beast like that. Her Mustang could take your bright, shiny Beemer any

day of the week.”

Morgan felt herself start to defend Parker’s method of

transportation, but she bit back the words when she realized she didn’t

have an explanation for why she should even know what kind of car

Parker drove. She did know, though, and the memory of her last ride in

the Mustang was a mixture of pleasure and regret.

“I thought we were meeting in your office.” Parker looked flushed

and out of breath. A stray lock of hair fell across her eyes and Morgan

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longed to reach over and brush it away. She resisted the urge and

focused her attention on the door to the classroom.

“I decided we’d have more room in here.”

The group settled near the front of the class and Morgan passed

around copies of the indictment and gave them a few minutes to look

it over. The group already knew the case involved Camille Burke’s

murder. Since Camille had been a student at the school, Morgan wanted

to make sure no one who tried out for the team had any conflicts about

working on the defense team representing the man who was accused of

murdering the young student.

“Luis Chavez was the handyman for the Burke family. He was

working inside the house the night Camille was killed. He was arrested

and the grand jury indicted him for murder last week. We’ll be assisting

the chief public defender on this case. You’ll meet him tomorrow at

the DA’s office. We have a meeting scheduled at two o’clock to look

at the evidence the prosecutor has developed in the case. The meeting

tomorrow is a hunt and gather session. We’re not there to talk about the

facts, negotiate, or discuss the law. We’ll listen, look, and walk away.

Once we have seen and copied their evidence, then we’ll analyze it and

work out a strategy for developing our defense.

“Now, here’s the deal. When I graduated from law school, I didn’t

know jack about the real world of criminal law except some random

snippets of information I gathered working on petty crime cases at the

public defender’s office. The first time I was hired to be lead counsel on

a murder case, I nearly threw up every day until it was over.” Morgan

surveyed their expectant looks. “So, even though I understand you

have all worked as interns in this field, I’m going to assume you know

nothing about working a felony case, let alone a murder case, until I see

otherwise. Fair enough?” Gerald and Dex nodded, but Parker seemed

distracted and Morgan wanted her attention. “Parker, why don’t you

explain what an indictment is?”

“It’s a charging instrument.”

“In English.”

“It’s a document that sets forth the allegations of the case. It puts

the defendant on notice as to what the State has to prove in order to get

a conviction.”

“How does someone get indicted?”

“The State presents evidence to the grand jury and, if the grand

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jury believes there is enough evidence to establish probable cause both

that a crime occurred and that the defendant committed it, then they

return a true bill of indictment, which is a formal charge.”

“How much proof do you need to show probable cause?”

Parker broke the stream of robotic, technical answers. “Not much.”

Dex and Gerald laughed and Morgan realized that in her attempt to be

more formal with Parker, her questioning technique had become more

like an interrogation.

“Look, there’s no need for this to be so formulaic. You’ve had a

chance to look over the indictment. It will be our guide for determining

whether the State has enough to get a conviction. We’ll see their actual

evidence tomorrow, but for now, I’ve got copies of the probable cause

affidavit for you to review.” Morgan handed out stapled packets to each

of her students. Ford had delivered the document to her office earlier

and she had skimmed it before meeting with them. She was anxious to

hear their reaction to the uphill battle the team was about to face.

“What’s this?” Gerald asked.

“Dex, want to answer that?” Morgan asked.

“It’s kind of a summary of the police report. The investigating

officers have to swear out an affidavit in order to get an arrest warrant.”

He shook the papers in his hand. “These should give us an idea of what

evidence they have against Luis.”

“Right. Take a moment to look it over.” Morgan waited for the

several minutes it took each of them to read over the document before

continuing. “Okay, what can you tell me about our case?”

Gerald was the first to respond. “We’re screwed.”

As much as she didn’t like him, Morgan had to laugh at the raw

truth of Gerald’s conclusion. “All right then. Let’s pretend for a minute

you work for the other side. Gerald, what are the strong points of your

case?”

“What aren’t the strong points?” he replied sarcastically. “The guy

was seen standing over Camille Burke’s dead body with a gun in his

hand. He ran off and hid from the police. And as if that weren’t enough,

his fingerprints were on the gun and his boot prints are all over the

scene.”

Gerald’s bluster got under Morgan’s skin and she silently cursed

Yolanda for forcing her to make Gerald part of the team. “First of all,

our client has a name—Luis. He’s not ‘the guy,’” Morgan said. “His

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liberty is in our hands, so let’s not forget he’s a real person, not an

abstract suspect.” She turned to Dex and Parker. “Either of you see

anything in the affidavit that’s helpful to our case?”

Dex was the first to respond. His tone was more respectful than

Gerald’s, but his conclusion was the same. “Not really, no.” He shook

his head. “Things look pretty bleak for Mr. Chavez.”

Parker’s expression told Morgan she had her own opinion about

the matter. “Parker, what do you think?”

“Frankly, it doesn’t surprise me that everything in this report points

to Luis as the killer. After all, the police wrote it. I think that once they

heard the details about Luis at the murder scene, they didn’t look for

another suspect.” Parker’s expression turned grim. “Having said that, I

have to say defending Luis is going to be tough. Especially since there

doesn’t appear to be evidence pointing to anyone else.”

Morgan was glad to know someone besides her didn’t let the

daunting prospect of defending against the odds cancel out the fact

the police report was naturally biased. Smart and handsome. Makes

her even harder to resist. “You’re absolutely right. Refuting the State’s

evidence is going to be difficult, and we’re not going to get any help

from the other side. So we better get started.”

Morgan spent the rest of the hour leading the group through

the litany of proof the State would need and that they would have to

counter. She continued to be impressed with Parker’s command of the

law and wondered how Parker came by her extensive knowledge. She

almost asked, but caution held her back. She was reluctant to engage

Parker more than the other students in the group, partly because she

was concerned her feelings would show through. The last thing she

needed was for the rest of the class to think she had a crush on one of

her students, but that was exactly how she felt.

v

The cases Parker had worked on the past summer in neighboring

Tarrant County hadn’t prepared her for the jittery feeling coursing

through her as she walked through the familiar courtroom doors.

Assisting the court public defender meant paying your dues by working

out easy pleas, serving as gofer during trial, and, occasionally if she was

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lucky, getting to cross-examine a nonsubstantive witness. She hadn’t

minded the busywork; it gave her exposure to the way things were done

on the other side and beefed up the experience on her résumé. Working

on this case would be different. Though she’d spent years working as a

homicide detective, she had yet to work a murder case from the other

side.

Morgan and the others hadn’t arrived. Parker glanced at her watch

and noted she was a few minutes early. The team was gathering at the

courthouse for a meeting with the prosecutor and the lead detective

on the case to review the evidence in the file. They would also be

meeting with Ford Rupley, the public defender who would be working

with them on the case. Parker knew Ford and wondered if he would

remember her. He was the most talented attorney at the PD’s office

and she often wondered why he didn’t strike out on his own in private

practice.

Parker entered the first set of double doors to Criminal District

Court 10 and looked through the windows on the inner doors and

noted with the exception of the bailiffs, the courtroom was empty. She

glanced at the doors on either side of her. The one on the right led to

the DA workroom. She had spent hours in these workrooms, one of

which was located in each court. Assistant district attorneys spent their

mornings in these rooms, meeting with defense attorneys, interviewing

witnesses, and preparing cases for trial. In the afternoons, the die-hard

prosecutors stayed in the cramped workroom, while those using the job

as a stepping stone to higher-paying nongovernment jobs adjourned

to tiny individual offices on the eleventh floor of the building. Parker

started toward the slightly open door on the right before she caught

herself and turned instead to the less familiar door on her left, the

defense counsel workroom. As she turned the knob, she winced at the

sound of a familiar voice behind her.

“Casey?”

Parker turned slowly and stood face-to-face with her former

lover, Skye Keaton. She stifled a low moan at the raw energy crackling

between them and bit out her words.

“Skye. It’s been a long time.”

Skye Keaton’s usually stoic face was flushed, but Parker didn’t

truly register the impact of their reunion until she felt Skye’s hand grasp

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her arm. The touch, though brief and light, branded her with memories.

They stood in the tiny hall lined with doors as people pushed past, but

to Parker it felt like they were completely alone.

Skye broke the silence and gave Parker a frank appraisal. “You

look good, Parker.”

Parker traded looks with equal measure. Detective Skye Keaton

looked exactly the same as she had the last time Parker had seen her,

tall and blond with velvet gray eyes sporting a jaunty glint. Time had

been kind to her former partner in the homicide department of the DPD.

“So do you. Bet you never thought you’d see me back here.”

“Not again, no, I didn’t.” Skye stared hard into Parker’s eyes.

“You’re not in trouble, are you?” A softness broke through her cop’s

tough tone and Parker was touched.

“Good afternoon, Parker.” They started at the approach of Morgan

Bradley. Spell broken, Parker registered how close she was standing to

Skye, and the flash of Morgan’s eyes told her she had noticed.

Morgan stuck out a hand in Skye’s direction. “I’m Morgan Bradley.

And you are?”

Skye shook Morgan’s outstretched hand. “Detective Keaton.”

“I see. Aren’t you the lead on the Burke case?” At Skye’s nod,

Morgan continued. “Then you’ll be joining us?”

“Us?” Skye shot a questioning look at Parker. “Uh, yes. I think

we’re meeting in the jury room. I’ll get Gibson and meet you there.”

Skye looked at Parker again and shook her head before stepping into

the DA workroom.

“Do you know her?” Morgan asked, her tone a blend of curiosity

and suspicion.

“I used to.” Parker let her answer fall flat. She hadn’t had a moment

alone with Morgan since seeing her at the vigil for Camille Burke. The

last thing she wanted to do in these few seconds was to talk about Skye

Keaton. “Morgan, I—”

Skye emerged from the workroom with a skinny blonde in tow,

cutting Parker’s words short. “Parker Casey, Morgan Bradley, this is

Valerie Gibson. She’s prosecuting the case.”

Gibson asked, “Shall we get started?”

“Lead the way. Ford’s trapped in a hearing, but we’re expecting

two others and they should be here shortly. They—” Morgan stopped

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short as the outer doors opened and Gerald and Dex walked through.

“Here they are. Let’s get started.”

Gibson ran the show, but it was obvious Skye’s knowledge of the

case far outweighed the young prosecutor’s. Skye laid out the evidence

she and her partner, Detective Peterson, had gathered, which included

the autopsy and ballistics reports, crime scene photos, statements from

various employees of the Burke household, and the most damning

evidence of all, Teddy Burke’s statement placing Luis over Camille

Burke’s dead body. As Skye outlined the evidence against Luis, she

was as cocky as Parker remembered.

“As you can see here, we have a ballistics match on the gun and

Chavez’s prints were all over it. As if that weren’t enough, Chavez’s

boot prints were all over the scene, and when he was arrested he was

wearing the very same boots, with traces of the vic’s blood on the soles.

I guess he was too busy running from his deed to think about buying

new shoes.” Parker winced at Skye’s sarcastic tone.

“Detective, I assume you are prepared to provide us with copies

of any statements you obtained from our client?” Morgan was the only

one who would ask any questions during the meeting.

Skye shot Morgan a withering glance that Parker knew she reserved

for all defense attorneys, but Morgan just smiled. “He admitted to being

there, all right, but he just made up some crazy story about how he just

found the body. Claims he didn’t kill her.”

Morgan pressed her. “And you have a copy for us to review?”

“Sure. You’re welcome to review all the damning evidence against

your client before he goes to the pen.”

“Thank you.” Morgan’s tone was syrupy sweet. “I’ll be sure to

take a careful look at everything.”

Parker was miserable for the entire hour they spent in the meeting.

Morgan was distant, barely looking her way. Parker ached to talk to

Morgan privately and resented the need to explain the interaction with

Skye. While competing emotions warred within, outwardly she made a

show of carefully reviewing the evidence and filed away her thoughts

to be shared when the air was clear.

The session wrapped up, Skye and the prosecutor gathered up the

evidence and escorted the defense team back through the courtroom.

While Morgan spoke to the prosecutor about the logistics of obtaining

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copies of the evidence they had reviewed, Skye grabbed Parker by the

arm and pulled her aside.

“Would you like to tell me what the hell you are doing here,

working on this case?”

Parker struggled to ignore the fact Skye’s lips were so close she

could feel the intense vibration of her angry tone. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t be coy. You know what I mean. Since when did you cross

over to the dark side?”

Parker couldn’t believe Skye could ask such an impudent question

knowing all Parker had gone through and that she was the cause of much

of her pain. Parker made no attempt to hide her anger, and her voice

shook with intensity. “Since standing in the light burned away my soul.”

Shrugging off Skye’s hand, she turned to leave and ran smack into Dex

and Gerald talking to Ford. All three men stopped their conversation

and stared at her with gaping mouths. Annoyed she would have to make

up some explanation for the exchange, Parker mowed past them and

made long and purposeful strides away from the courtroom.

v

Morgan raised her hand to knock on the door, but lowered it again.

She’d walked from a nearby coffee shop having no idea the skies would

open and douse her with a pounding torrent of rain. Cursing herself for

not paying closer attention to the weather, she surveyed her appearance.

She was drenched, her silk suit ruined.

She was only half surprised when Gerald and Dex told her

Parker had already left the courthouse by the time she emerged from

the prosecutor’s office. They had no answer for her questions about

Parker’s abrupt departure. Ford, who showed up after his hearing,

pulled her aside and whispered questions of his own. Morgan was

determined to find answers. Something happened between Parker and

the lead investigator Skye Keaton. She wasn’t sure if it had happened

that day or sometime in the past. The two women clearly knew each

other, and the heat emanating from their interaction was clearly visible

to Morgan’s watchful eye. She refused to acknowledge the real reason

behind her desire to know more about what she had witnessed. Instead

Morgan rationalized she had a duty to check on Parker—who, according

to the guys, had stormed out of the building. She navigated her way to

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Parker’s lower Greenville neighborhood. Something, perhaps the desire

to fortify herself, made her stop at a nearby strip of businesses where

she sought guidance in the form of cappuccino. Caffeinated, she left her

SUV and walked the block to Parker’s house.

Now, standing in front of Parker’s door, she hesitated. She

looked frightful, her once crisp suit now splotched and bunchy from

the rain. Parker had looked amazing at the courthouse. Morgan had

grown accustomed to seeing her dressed in jeans and T-shirts and was

as thrown by the sight of her in a well-tailored suit as she was to see

her engaged in intimate conversation with Detective Keaton. Surveying

herself, Morgan decided not only did she look frightful, she wasn’t

confident she would be welcome. What if Parker wasn’t here and one

of her roommates answered? The thought wasn’t fully formed when the

door swung open and she was face-to-face with Kelsey James.

“Oh my God, you’re soaking wet!” Kelsey grabbed Morgan’s arm

and pulled her into the foyer. “Let me get you a towel. I’ll be right

back.”

Morgan stood dripping on the cool marble tiles, unable to muster

a response to the display of spontaneous hospitality. For a moment, she

contemplated leaving, but she knew her sudden departure back into the

swirling storm would not only seem odd, it would probably result in her

catching a cold, and she couldn’t afford to be ill right now.

Moments later, Morgan joined Kelsey in the kitchen and watched

her as she fixed a welcome cup of tea. She was as dry as a towel could

get her, but she shivered in her wet clothes.

“Seriously, Morgan, I think you should change. Between your

wet clothes and the air-conditioning, you’re going to catch a cold. I’m

going to get you a pair of scrubs. Doctor’s orders.”

When Kelsey returned with a well-worn set of light green scrubs,

Morgan excused herself to the bathroom to change. She surveyed herself

in the mirror and once again questioned her judgment in showing up

on Parker’s doorstep. Kelsey hadn’t asked her why she was here, and

at this point, Morgan was embarrassed to admit she was trailing around

after Parker. She wondered what Kelsey knew about their relationship

besides the fact Morgan had spent the night on at least one occasion.

Was Parker even home? She tried to ignore the fact she was now

barefoot and dressed in loose-fitting scrubs, and reentered the kitchen

with a confidence she did not feel. Kelsey’s smile was warm and the

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tea she handed Morgan was welcome. For the next few moments, they

sat in silence.

Finally, Kelsey broke the ice. “I imagine you’re looking for

Parker?”

“Yes.”

“She’s not here. I haven’t seen her since lunch. She said she was

heading to the courthouse.”

Morgan nodded.

“Actually, I thought she would be with you,” Kelsey ventured.

“She was. But she left suddenly and I didn’t get a chance to discuss

an important issue with her. I was hoping to find her here.” Morgan’s

voice trailed off and she glanced away.

Kelsey plunged in. “Morgan?”

“Yes.”

“I know Parker’s one of your students.”

Morgan waited, knowing she wasn’t finished.

“And I know there’s something more personal going on between

you two.”

Morgan didn’t know how to respond. Certainly, what she had

shared with Parker in the room upstairs was personal in the same way

naked want and need was personal. How could she explain to her the

contrast between feeling physically intimate with Parker and feeling as

if she knew nothing about her?

Kelsey saved her from her dilemma. “Look, I know you’ve slept

together and I know your respective roles have to put some strain on the

situation. I also know I haven’t seen you around here since we met at

breakfast a few weeks ago, and Parker’s been moping around lately like

she lost her best friend. Since I’m her best friend, I figure it’s something

else. Now you show up here in the middle of a thunderstorm, soaking

wet, and I can’t help but wonder if your feelings for my friend transcend

your reservations about propriety.”

Morgan couldn’t conceal her surprise at the blunt discourse and

she stared at her. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say I’m right. Say you care about Parker and not merely her

worth as a future lawyer. Say you’ll be true to your feelings and you

won’t hurt her.”

Morgan looked away. “I do care about Parker, but as you say, we’ve

only shared a bed.” She winced at the harsh assessment, knowing they

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had shared much more. “We don’t know anything about each other,

and the only reason we even know each other’s last names is because

I’m her teacher and she’s my student—a situation I can’t do anything

about.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I don’t know. She was upset when she left today. I want to know

why. I want to know if I can do anything about it.”

“What was she upset about?”

“I don’t know. She seemed to be upset after talking to a detective

at the courthouse. At first, I didn’t understand why, but I think I may

have a little insight now.”

“A detective? Who was it?”

“Skye Keaton. Why, do you know her?”

“I’ve only met her once.”

Morgan smiled at the evasive answer. “Ms. James, you didn’t

answer the question.”

“Touché. I don’t really know her. Not personally. I know about her.”

“And you’re not going to tell me anything else?” At Kelsey’s nod,

she continued, “Even if I tell you I know Parker was on the force?”

Kelsey couldn’t hide the look of surprise. “How did you find

out?”

“Seriously, the courthouse is like the smallest community on earth.

Parker was a homicide detective. You don’t think there are more than

a few attorneys who know who she is?” Morgan’s words were edged

with anger and she wasn’t sure why. After Parker’s hasty exit, Ford

supplied some of the information she needed to piece together why

Parker had acted so strangely around Detective Skye Keaton. Yet, in

this moment, Morgan wasn’t sure which part of the story surprised her

more—Parker’s former life as a detective or Parker’s obvious feelings

for Skye Keaton. Why didn’t Parker tell me? Even as she asked herself

the question, she wasn’t sure which of the new revelations she had

expected Parker to share. Face it, she told herself, neither of you has

shared anything more personal than flesh on flesh. All you’ve done

since the day you discovered her sitting in the rows of your classroom

was push her away. Did you expect her to respond by sharing her life

story with you? And why do you care now?

Morgan didn’t have answers to the questions posed by her silent

self. She only knew one thing with certainty. She had to see Parker and

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she had to see her now. Her compelling need drove her to push past

Kelsey’s reluctance and treat her like a hostile witness.

“Are you telling me you don’t know where she is or do you know

and you’re not going to tell me? Which is it?” Her tone left no doubt

she would not relent until she got a satisfactory answer.

“Stand down, Counselor. I don’t know where she is.”

Morgan read the pause and posed her next question. “But you

might have an idea.”

“An idea about what?”

They both turned toward the new voice in the conversation.

Parker stood in the doorway of the kitchen, dripping wet. Water ran

down the lines of her rumpled suit and puddled at her feet. Despite her

soggy appearance, her jaw was set and her eyes were crisp with anger.

She glanced from Morgan to Kelsey and back again. Though she was

staring hard into Morgan’s eyes, her question was clearly directed to

them both.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Morgan stood, her confidence always stronger when she was on

her feet. She faced Parker and was suddenly overcome. She wanted

to wipe away the trails of wet the rain had left and wrap Parker in her

arms, kissing away her anger.

But Morgan knew how to read people, better than most, and she

read Parker’s bold anger and crushing hurt. Though she didn’t fully

understand the source, she wanted to, and the revelation shook her to

the core. Her desire for Parker wasn’t limited to craving her caresses.

She wanted to know everything about Parker, past, present, and future.

Relying on her instincts, she knew now was not the time. Glancing at

Kelsey, she said, “Parker, I was worried when you left the courthouse

so suddenly. I came by to check on you.”

Parker made a show of looking Morgan up and down. She reached

for Morgan’s sleeve and rubbed the soft cloth between her fingers. Her

eyes met Morgan’s and held them with fierce emotion.

“Decide to get comfortable while you waited for me, did you?”

Caught off guard, Morgan blushed, only then remembering she

was dressed in Kelsey’s scrubs. She barely heard Kelsey’s outraged cry

of protest as she delivered her own response.

“Parker, you are way out of line.”

“I’m out of line? I’m out of line?” Her voice increased in volume.

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“Don’t you think it’s a little out of line for a professor to make house

calls on her students?” Parker pointed to the door, her intention clear as

she spat her words. “I want you to leave, Professor. Now.”

Morgan stood her ground. Though moments ago she had entered

this house with only a vague idea of what drove her, now that she was

here, she desperately wanted to stay. But as unsure as she was about her

motivation for being here, she was equally sure Parker did not want her

to stay. Not now, not like this. She reluctantly resolved to give Parker

what she professed to want in this moment. Painfully conscious of

her inability to make a dignified exit, she strode through the kitchen,

grabbing her shoes and purse as she passed her drying clothes. Ignoring

Kelsey’s call to stay and talk, she found her way to the porch and paused

just long enough to slip into her heels and ponder whether or not the

Palomar had a back entrance.

v

“What in the world was that about?”

Parker sank into the closest chair and cradled her head in her

hands. “Honestly, James, I don’t know.”

“Well, you can’t sit there and drip-dry. Don’t move. I’ll be right

back.”

Moments later Kelsey reappeared with another set of scrubs and

she ordered Parker to change. In a daze, Parker stripped naked in the

middle of kitchen, toweled off, and pulled on the soft, worn fabric. She

knew Kelsey was waiting for her to talk about what was bothering her,

but she couldn’t seem to find the words. The pain of betrayal stung and

she felt paralyzed.

“Casey, look at me.”

Parker gazed, unseeing, at her.

“I know you saw Skye today.”

Parker could only shake her head, willing away the memories

spilling in. How much pain could Skye Keaton possibly inflict in this

lifetime? She had buried her head in the sand. She had been foolish to

think she could work in the Dallas legal community and not run into

her former lover.

Kelsey gathered her close and whispered, “It’s okay, sweetie.

Everything will be okay.”

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Parker heard the soothing murmur of her voice, but couldn’t agree

less with Kelsey’s conclusion. Everything would not be okay, and as

long as she was haunted by the pain of her past, it never would be. She

lashed out.

“No, it won’t! You have no idea!”

The look on Kelsey’s face was a combination of surprise and

worry. “You’re right. I don’t. I don’t know why you’ve chosen to keep

what happened bottled up inside. I can only tell you whatever secret

you’re hiding will grind away at you until you bring it out into the

light.”

Parker faced her and, perhaps for the first time, realized she had

never shared the whole story with anyone, though many close to her

knew bits and pieces of what had happened. Even now, as she was

consumed with the implications of the past roaring back into her

present, she still wasn’t ready to share it all.

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chapter nine

I had no idea Parker Casey was going to be part of the team.

Wow! What a coup!”

Ford had a busy day in court ahead, so Morgan had agreed to meet

him for an early breakfast at his favorite hole in the wall. In his usual

exuberant way, Ford waved his food, this time a piece of bacon, in the

air. Morgan’s thoughts were momentarily distracted from the painful

memory of the tortured expression on Parker’s face the day before,

and she swore she would never work as a public defender since they

seemed to eat only in greasy diners. She willed her mind away from the

distractions it sought and focused on the issue at hand.

“Ford, I had no idea Parker used to be a cop. If I had, I’m not sure

I would have allowed her to work on this case.”

“What the hell?” Ford returned his bacon to his plate and stared

her down. “Morgan, this case is a homicide. What better choice for the

team than a lawyer who used to work homicide? Didn’t you know what

you were doing when you picked her?”

“First off, Parker’s not a lawyer. Second, I didn’t select the team

members. Yolanda and Jim Spencer conducted the tryouts. Third, the

fact she worked on the force makes me question her motivation in

wanting to work on this case, on this side of the issue.” Even as she

spoke this last, Morgan knew it wasn’t true. During the past few weeks

of class, she had observed Parker’s passion for defense and a thinly

veiled hostility for the prosecution. True, these exercises were far from

real-life courtroom experiences, but if Parker was merely acting, she

was damn good.

“No need to worry about her motivation. Parker Casey has plenty

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of reasons to champion justice for the little guy. Her law-and-order

experience certainly left a bad taste in her mouth.”

Morgan’s nod told him to continue even as she mentally willed

him to stop. She couldn’t help feeling torn between wanting to know

everything there was to know about Parker, this multilayered woman,

but at the same time she wanted distance: distance to do her job, distance

to keep her own potentially volatile feelings in check, distance from

the pain she witnessed on Parker’s face and her own surging desire to

soothe it away.

“Parker was a rising star. She made detective in record time and

was hand-picked for homicide. She received tons of commendations

and was on the fast track to become lieutenant, though I suspect she had

no desire to be part of administration. She was great on the stand—a

perfect prosecution witness—unflappable. Cross-examine her and you

got objective facts, delivered with an engaging personality. Juries loved

her, her higher-ups loved her. Detective Casey had it made.” He stopped

his story and waited. Morgan knew Ford well enough to know his pause

was designed to make sure he had her full attention before he relayed

the “and then” portion of his story.

She decided to play along. “And then?”

“And then she got set up. Skye—you remember Skye, right?” At

Morgan’s puzzled look, Ford urged, “Skye Keaton? Lead detective on

this case?”

Morgan nodded slowly, wary of the new direction to this tale.

“She and Parker were at a suspect’s house waiting around to

question him. You’ve probably read about the case. The guy was

suspected of being the Trinity River Killer. Two other detectives joined

them because the guy was expected to arrive shortly and he was believed

to not only be armed and dangerous, but a total whack job.

“No one knows what really happened, but apparently the guy

came home and died of a gunshot wound shortly thereafter. Turns out

the guy wasn’t the Trinity River Killer after all.”

“Why do I feel like there’s more?” Morgan hesitated to ask more

for fear of what might follow.

“The guy was shot in the back and even though the police

administration did their best to keep that little fact out of the news,

the guy’s family sued the city for a host of infractions. As a result, the

autopsy results became public record. The DA’s office opened a public

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integrity investigation and the four officers involved in the case were all

suspended pending investigation.”

Nausea gripped Morgan and held her in its sour grasp. Every word

Ford spoke seemed to lead her closer to what she professed she wanted:

more information about the woman who occupied her thoughts, night

and day. Yet as his story spun closer to unpleasant truths, she shied

away, afraid of the effect. Ford must have sensed something was wrong

because he stopped his tale to ask, “Morgan, are you okay? You look

pale.”“I’m fine,” she managed. “Please, finish.”

“I don’t know the whole story. I expect few do. Parker and the

detective who fired the shot were both terminated. Keaton and the other

detective were given formal reprimands, but were both reinstated. The

family of the dead guy settled their lawsuit for an undisclosed amount

in exchange for the city admitting no liability. Rumor is Parker sued the

city herself for wrongful termination and a host of other things and won

a tidy settlement, but no one’s talking about the specifics.”

“Why was Parker fired? What did she do wrong?” Morgan tried to

hide the desperation in her voice.

Ford shrugged. “Who knows? A friend of mine in Public Integrity

told me at the time in a case with this much publicity, someone had to

take a fall, but I expected it would be the guy who pulled the trigger. I

suppose only Parker knows for sure what happened.”

Probably true, Morgan thought, wondering if she would be so bold

as to ask and then wondering how in the world the topic would or could

ever come up between them. After today, meaningful conversation was

no longer a possibility between them. Too many unspoken thoughts and

unrequited feelings filled the space between them, making the intimacy

it would take to have such a dialogue unlikely.

v

“Can I talk to you?”

Parker wasn’t sure if Morgan recognized her voice. She didn’t

look up from her desk, but merely said, “Sure. Come on in.”

Parker waited until she had her full attention before she fully

entered the room, shutting the door behind her. Morgan was stunning.

Last night, when Parker spent hours lying awake thinking of a graceful

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way to deliver her news, she had not been hampered by the distraction

of her beauty. Now, with Morgan sitting in front of her, dressed in a

close-cut cream silk suit, she couldn’t help but falter for her opening

words.

“I think it would be best if I withdrew from the team.” Parker

lowered her head and sighed, relieved to have the words out. She

waited for the anticipated agreement from Morgan. Long, silent seconds

passed. Parker raised her head and met Morgan’s impenetrable gaze.

“You do?” Morgan picked up a pen and began to write in a

notebook on her desk. “I would like you to tell me why.”

What about what I would like, Parker asked silently. I would like

to escape this situation with as much dignity as I can. Telling you every

sordid detail of my past isn’t likely to leave me with much. Let it go,

Morgan. Let it go.

A long look at Morgan’s face told Parker she wasn’t going to get

off so easy. Walls shot up and she invoked customary defenses. “I’d

rather not say. It’s personal. I can only say I’m sorry about the way I

behaved yesterday. Kelsey’s my best friend and I’m ashamed of the

way I acted when I saw you two together. My reaction had nothing to

do with either of you. I have other things going on and those things

prevent me from being able to give my best to the team. It would be

best if I withdrew.”

Morgan contemplated Parker’s stoic speech. The script she had

delivered had probably been practiced in front of a mirror, but it was

still canned and incomplete. Morgan knew there was more behind

Parker’s angst than a simple “I have other things going on,” and she

was determined to find out what those things were because she was sure

these “things” held the key to figuring Parker out. Figuring out Parker

vaulted to the top of her list of things to do, and she wasn’t going to let

anything get in the way of accomplishing her objective.

“I respectfully disagree. Parker, you’re a fantastic addition to the

team. I know you used to be a cop and I know something happened to

take your chosen career away from you. I don’t know what it was and

I don’t care to pry into your private life.” Morgan winced inwardly at

the lie. “Let’s put yesterday behind us and move on. We have a lot of

work to do.”

Parker wasn’t sure how to react. She was partly relieved to have

her offer rejected, but a part of her was pissed at the way Morgan

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dismissed what had happened as if it was nothing. Did this woman

have to take everything in stride? No wonder she could do what she did

so well. She didn’t let herself feel. She probably didn’t care about either

Luis Chavez or Camille Burke. They were nothing more than pieces in

a complicated puzzle she was hell-bent on solving.

Parker, intent on her internal tirade, missed Morgan’s next words.

“What?”

“I said, I need you to help me with a project. Do you have a couple

of hours right now?”

Put on the spot, Parker couldn’t come up with a decent excuse to

get away. Fact was, she didn’t have anything else planned until her late

afternoon Ethics class, and after the way she had acted the day before,

she owed Morgan a favor. “Sure, but I have class at four.”

“Great. Leave your books here and come with me.” Morgan

walked out the door, leaving a bewildered Parker to trail behind her.

“I thought we’d be working here.”

“No, this is a field trip. I promise to have you back in time for your

class. You’re not scared to get in a car with me, are you?”

Parker felt the heat of a blush as she remembered her first car ride

with Morgan. “Absolutely not, Professor.”

v

Morgan’s Lexus whizzed through the streets of Dallas, and Parker

wondered what mission she had in store. As if reading her thoughts,

Morgan nodded toward the backseat and said, “Will you reach back and

get that notebook?”

Parker complied and opened the notebook. Confused, she glanced

through page after page of real estate descriptions, all touting the

various features of East Dallas homes. She shot a questioning look at

Morgan who, intent on navigating to her destination, ignored her. She

was forced to ask the question. “What am I supposed to be helping you

with this fine afternoon?”

“I’m house-hunting.”

“You’re house-hunting?” Parker repeated, vaguely aware she

sounded inane.

“Yep. My realtor prepared the notebook you’re holding. I’m

supposed to drive by these houses and eliminate all the ones I can

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based on outward appearance.” Morgan looked at Parker and smiled. “I

thought since you lived over here, you’d be a perfect choice to help me

in this little venture.”

Parker was flattered and angry at the same time. Flattered Morgan

wanted to spend personal time with her, and angry to be taken advantage

of. Anger won out and she was about to unleash it, when Morgan spoke

again.

“I know you may be angry. I did kind of take advantage of you

by dragging you away under somewhat false pretenses. But, Parker,

I think we need to start over if we’re going to work together and we

needed to get away from school to find common ground. I think you

are terrific and there’s no reason we can’t be friendly, even if we can’t

be anything else. Truce?”

Morgan’s words doused Parker’s rising fury. Morgan was right.

They needed to put to rest the brief past they had shared and start over.

Fact was they would always be more than teacher and student, but if

they could find a way to fashion their feelings into friendship, they

would be able to move past it.

Parker smiled. “Truce.” Looking at the notebook on her lap, she

said, “I can tell you right now, this first house is not for you.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. It’s on my street, and the neighbors on either side

are dueling Animal House contestants. Drive over to Manchester. Nice,

quiet street, beautiful front yards. You’ll love it.”

“Because it’s quiet?” Morgan asked in protest.

“Because it’s beautiful,” Parker replied, her words dripping with

meaning.

v

Parker was late for her Ethics class, but for once she did not care.

She slid into the seat Dex had saved and quietly opened her book to the

place he indicated.

“Where have you been?” he whispered.

Feeling guilty for the white lie she was about to tell, Parker

allowed her well-honed sense of self-protection to censor her account.

“Running some errands. Did I miss anything?”

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“No, but I’m sure Spencer noticed you were late, so expect to be

called on. That’s what you get for never missing class.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m tired of always being predictable.”

Dex reached over and punched her on the arm. “Hey, why do you

think we get along so well? I know I can always count on you.”

Wondering what Dex would think if he knew where she had spent

the last few hours, Parker smiled halfheartedly and buried her face in

her book. Dex was right. She could always be counted on to be on

time, to get the job done, to do the right thing. She had suspended her

reliability this afternoon in pursuit of a feeling, a certain comfort she felt

in Morgan’s presence. She’d enjoyed the afternoon of house-hunting

more than she would have imagined. Maybe they could be friends after

all.

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chapter ten

The group of lawyers and lawyers-to-be settled in around

the conference table in the faculty meeting room. Although

she had received flack from both donors and other administrators

about allowing her students to work on this case, Yolanda had been

unwavering in her support. Ford and Morgan took up places on either

side of two flip charts and Ford led the discussion.

“We have one obvious issue to resolve pretrial: Luis Chavez’s

‘confession.’”

Gerald Lopez interrupted. “Wait a minute. The guy confessed?

Why are we going to trial, then?”

Dex and Parker rolled their eyes and Morgan looked away to

hide her expression. Ford valiantly encouraged Gerald to come up

with the answer on his own. “Well, Gerald. Why would a person go to

trial if they had confessed to a crime? And what’s your definition of a

confession?”

Gerald looked around the room and noticed everyone’s averted

eyes. “Well, it’s pretty obvious what a confession is. When you admit

to doing something wrong—your admission is a confession.”

Ford nodded. “Okay, fair enough. Now, let’s play the video we

have of the ‘confession’ and judge for ourselves.” Ford used a remote to

start the video monitor, and seconds later the screen jumped to life with

the image of a weary Luis Chavez slumped in a hard-backed chair. He

was in a smallish room and the black-and-white film served to accent

his drab surroundings. The counter in the bottom right hand of the

screen said it was moments after midnight and the counter clicked off

the passing seconds.

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Seconds turned into minutes and the action on the screen did not

change. At one point, the audio recorded the creak of a door opening

and Luis turned his head at the sound. A garbled voice asked a question

and Luis merely nodded. The counter registered the passage of time.

After approximately fifteen minutes with no further activity on the

tape, Luis began to fidget in his seat, an action reflected by the students

watching the monitor. He glanced around and then settled back, eyes

wary, as the door creaked open again. This time a person entered. The

watching students could only see the individual’s back leaning forward

to place something on the table in front of Luis. The person left and Luis

leaned forward to inspect the contents of the table. Two cans of Coke

and three doughnuts didn’t last long. It was obvious Luis was starving.

He hastily devoured the food and the inaction of the tape resumed,

marked only by the constant counter.

After another fifteen minutes, someone finally entered the room

and took a seat across from Luis. Detective Skye Keaton introduced

herself. Parker, the only one of the students who could have predicted

the contents of the tape, screen by screen, stiffened at the appearance of

her former partner as if she were actually in the room with them. The

visceral reaction was not lost on Morgan, who watched from the back

of the room. She wanted to move forward, place her hand on Parker’s

shoulder as a show of support. She stood rooted in place, knowing a

display of affection could be misunderstood, but silently vowed to

learn why Parker’s former partner still had the power to evoke such

strong emotion. As each moment ticked away on the screen, Parker’s

discomfort became more visible, and finally Morgan reasoned a show

of support was necessary. Slowly making her way to the front of the

room, she lingered beside Parker and brushed her fingers against the

soft cloth covering her back. The slight touch was electric and she gave

silent praise to years of practiced self-control, which kept her from

crying out.

At first, Parker did not react to the touch. She too had years of

training on how to keep her reactions in check. An unidentified approach

from behind could mean danger, and in order to defend herself, she

needed to be in control of her reflexes. True to her training, she looked

for subtle clues. She could smell the familiar perfume. A glance down

revealed designer heels, and the fingers resting lightly against her were

long and light. She acknowledged the situation was dangerous, but

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relaxed into Morgan’s caress anyway. The contact lasted mere seconds,

but the effect lingered, producing a hazy veil of longing that clouded

her awareness.

Morgan, on the other hand, noticed a sharp pair of eyes, brimming

with questions, peering from across the room. She met Gerald’s look

without expression, shook herself, and turned her attention back to the

video. She noted it had reached the portion where Detective Keaton

reviewed Luis’s rights. She watched Skye fish a worn card from her

wallet and deliver the Miranda warning in a brisk monotone.

“Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you.”

Skye’s words were fast and formal.

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s talk about what you were doing in Ms. Burke’s

bedroom.”

Luis fidgeted in his chair. “Can I have my phone call?”

“Who do you want to call?’

“My sister.”

Skye leaned back in her chair. Seconds ticked by on the counter

while she stared at Luis. When she spoke, her calm tone belied the

tension in the room. “Do you have a phone?”

Morgan suppressed a snort. She caught Parker looking her way

and figured they were sharing the same thought. Luis was already under

arrest. His phone, if he had one, and all his other belongings would

have been taken from him before he was placed in the squad car and

hauled off to jail.

“No.”

“Well, your rights don’t say anything about getting a phone call,

but I tell you what. When we’re finished talking, I’ll take you to a

phone and you can call her.” Skye sounded reasonable, almost friendly.

“Now, I’d like you to tell me what you were doing in Camille Burke’s

bedroom the night she was murdered.”

“I have a question about that paper you read to me.”

Skye’s didn’t attempt to conceal her impatience. “What?”

“You said I can have a lawyer. When you read from the paper.”

“I thought you said you understood your rights.”

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Luis placed his head in his hands, obviously uncomfortable about

asserting even the smallest challenge to Skye’s authority. “Maybe I

didn’t understand so well.”

“Am I going to have to read them again?” Skye’s expression made

it clear there would be dire consequences if she was forced to repeat

herself.

“No. I mean, I just thought you said something about a lawyer.”

“Do you want a lawyer?”

“I think so, yes.” Luis started out hesitantly, but his “yes” was

emphatic.

“So, you want a lawyer now? Before we even finish talking?”

Skye could not have sounded more annoyed.

Luis looked like he would rather jump off a cliff than choose

between asserting his rights and pissing off Skye. Skye stared at him

while he looked everywhere in the room to avoid her penetrating glare.

Finally, he mustered the strength to spit out his one-word answer:

“Yes.”

“Fine.” Skye stood up. She slowly and deliberately gathered her

paper and pen, pushed in her chair, and started toward the door. “I’ll

see you in court.”

Luis was startled out of his newfound confidence. “What?”

“We’re done here. You’ll get a lawyer and you can plead your case

to a jury. We’re done talking.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” Luis sounded desperate. “You said I

could have a lawyer present.”

“You can have all the lawyers you want. I don’t have to sit here

and deal with them. Those are my rights.” Skye’s opened the door and

started to walk out.

“Wait!”

Skye turned her head and waited.

“I didn’t do anything. I want to tell you.”

“What about the lawyer?”

“Never mind. Please, let me tell you what happened.”

Skye paused as if she were giving the matter a great deal of

thought. She made her way back to the table and once again pulled out

the worn card from her wallet. “Do I need to read these rights to you

again and make sure you understand them?”

“No, no. I understand. Let me talk to you,” Luis begged, perhaps

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fearing any delay might result in Skye leaving before he could convince

her of his innocence.

Skye beamed. “All right then. Let’s hear what you have to say.”

Morgan listened once again while Luis eagerly told Keaton all he

knew in the anxious manner so common to those accused who hoped

telling the truth would set them free. The upshot of his statement was

exactly what he had already relayed to her. He admitted to having

been in the house the night of Camille Burke’s murder, but despite

a browbeating interrogation, he supplied no other details about her

gruesome death. Toward the end, Detective Keaton was losing patience,

evidenced by the increasing volume and frustrated tone of her voice.

Ford turned off the tape and addressed the class. “Okay, Gerald,

let’s hear it. What was the essence of Luis’s confession?”

Gerald shifted in his chair, glancing around the room. “Well, he

did say he was in the house. So he had opportunity.”

Dex broke in. “I wonder how many people work in the Burke

house and have access to the residence. I would venture to say it’s at

least ten. So, lots of people had opportunity. His admission to being in

the house doesn’t equal a confession.”

“Good point, Dex,” Ford observed. “Gerald, what does the State

have to prove in order to convict Mr. Chavez?”

Morgan idly wondered if Ford was avoiding questioning Parker

since she was likely to know all the answers. How many times had

Parker sat across the table from an accused person, using all the skills at

her disposal to draw out a confession? Had she followed the rules to the

letter, or had she developed her own set of guidelines for the right way

to get to the “truth”? Morgan had a healthy respect for law enforcement.

When they did their jobs properly, she truly believed the world was a

better place, but over the years she had seen a fair share of everything

from cut corners to outright dishonesty in the name of justice. This tape

was exhibit one in the cutting corners category, and she wondered what

Parker, a former cop, thought of Keaton’s technique.

Gerald responded to Ford, “Motive, means, and opportunity.”

Morgan bit her tongue and glared at Ford, willing him to put this

doofus in his place. He did.

“Show me the part of the Code you’re referring to, Gerald.”

Morgan watched while he fumbled through his bright, shiny, and

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obviously never-cracked copy of the Penal Code searching for salvation

from his own stupidity.

“Well,” he equivocated, “it doesn’t exactly say those words, but

essentially those are the things the State has to prove.”

Morgan couldn’t stand it any longer. “Parker, can you help Gerald

out?”

Parker shot a look at Dex, who was trying not to laugh. “I can take

a stab at it. The state has to prove each element of the statute, beyond

a reasonable doubt. Murder is intentionally or knowingly causing the

death of another, so there are three elements: intentionally or knowingly;

causing; the death of an individual. Motive and opportunity are not

elements of the offense and don’t have to be proved in order to sustain

a conviction.”

Ford chuckled. “Good stab, Parker. Now, let’s talk about whether

this ‘confession’ is admissible. Dex, you’re up.”

Dex didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”

Morgan wasted no time taking over from Ford. “Really, Dex?”

Dex looked puzzled that his conclusion was called into question,

but he stood by the confidence of his conclusion. “Sure. She read him

his rights and he waived them.” He swiveled in his chair and solicited

Parker’s support. “Did you see anything wrong?”

Morgan hung on her answer, knowing that whatever it was it

would speak volumes about what kind of cop she had been. Parker

appeared uncomfortable at the prospect of dissecting Skye’s methods,

and her response was cagey.

“She didn’t finish the warning.”

Dex interjected. “She read the Miranda warning verbatim.”

“I keep forgetting you worked for the Feds.” Parker grinned at the

reminder of their friendly rivalry. “If she’s recording his statement to use

at trial, she’s got to ask him, on the tape, if he ‘knowingly, intelligently,

and voluntarily’ wants to waive his rights and answer questions.”

“She did,” Dex insisted.

“No, she didn’t. She just asked him if he understood his rights, not

whether he wanted to waive them.”

“Even if you’re right, what’s the difference? He waived his rights

by answering her questions.” Dex’s tone suggested he thought the

distinction Parker made was insignificant.

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Parker’s response was heated. “The difference is she’s not allowed

to assume he knows the difference. She has a duty to follow the law.”

Morgan had been watching the exchange with interest, but she

decided it was time to intervene. Parker obviously had strong feelings

on the subject, though Morgan wasn’t sure if the subject was Skye’s

methods or Skye in general. “This is perfect. Since you two have

very different views on the subject, you’ll be a great team to work on

the research. I want a brief in support of a motion to suppress Luis’s

statement.”

Gerald piped in. “Why do you want to suppress it if he didn’t admit

to anything?” His question was a challenge with a hint of sarcasm.

Morgan’s answer was quick and to the point. “Because we can.”

Once she had everyone’s attention, she continued. “I realize nothing Luis

says can be construed as a confession, but look at his mannerisms. What

do you see?” She rewound the tape and waited for their responses.

“He’s nervous. He never looks Keaton in the eye.” Dex observed.

Parker joined in. “He’s sweating and look at his right leg. It looks

like it’s about to bounce out of its socket.”

Ford joined the conversation. “And he always hesitates before he

answers a question, like he’s trying to figure out what to say. So, folks,

what’s the jury going to think about all that?”

“He looks like he’s lying,” Gerald volunteered.

“Or he looks like someone who was torn from his bed in the

middle of the night, hauled to jail, and charged with a serious crime

he didn’t commit. His fear can be attributed to the fact English isn’t

his first language, he’s been arrested before, and his citizenship may

be in jeopardy.” Morgan paused as she considered the pros and cons

of trying to get the taped statement thrown out. Luis never wavered in

his denials. He had not murdered Camille Burke. He had not struggled

with her. He had not shot her. Morgan reflected, ruefully, if she was

successful in suppressing the tape, the only way the jury would hear

from Luis would be if he took the stand. No matter what the law said,

juries wanted to hear the accused say they didn’t do anything wrong.

When questioned after a trial, they invariably attributed their verdict to

the words, or lack thereof, from the defendant. Amazing, considering

during voir dire, they all agreed they could follow the law, which

requires they attribute no importance to the fact the defendant may not

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testify. Though it was common practice not to allow her client to testify,

Morgan always kept this nugget of information in the back of her mind

when planning a case. Her concerns in this particular case were focused

on Luis’s criminal record and how it might influence a jury. She could

fight to keep the information out, but if Luis took the stand and opened

the door, all bets were off. If his statement was introduced into evidence,

the need for him to testify and the associated risk were diminished. She

explained her concerns to the group and wrapped up their session by

divvying up assignments.

“Parker and Dex, I want you two to research and prepare a motion

to suppress. Ford and I will make a decision over the weekend about

whether to file it in time to take it up with the judge at the pretrial

hearing next week. If nothing else, it will distract the prosecutor

from trial prep.” She looked at Gerald, who was expectantly waiting

for his assignment. She quickly came up with a do-no-harm task for

him. “Gerald, I need you to catalog the rest of the evidence. Ford will

show you how he wants our trial notebooks arranged and you make a

checklist of anything we still need in order to be prepared.” She took

note of how he fumed at being assigned what was obviously busywork,

but she couldn’t afford to give someone so clueless a project of any

consequence.

Morgan stood. “We’ve been at this for a while. Let’s quit for

the night and we’ll meet again on Monday. Have a good weekend,

everyone.”

Dex followed Parker out of the room. “Hey, Casey, wanna a grab

a bite to eat and go over this stuff?”

Parker, who had been watching Morgan make her way out of the

room, struggled to wrench her attention away from Morgan’s retreating

form and focus on Dex’s question. Funny Dex should bring up dinner.

She had been thinking she would corner Morgan and tell her dinner

would be a good payback for the house-hunting boondoggle earlier in

the week. Surely they could break bread without breaking the boundaries

of friendship. She made excuses to Dex in a hurried tone. “Sorry, pal, I

already made other plans. Let’s meet in the morning, my place? We’ll

get an early start. I’ll make breakfast.”

If Dex noticed Parker seemed anxious to leave, he didn’t give

a hint. “Sure, Casey. See you bright and early.” As he strolled away,

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Parker glanced around and noticed Morgan was gone. Hoping to catch

her, Parker walked briskly toward the professor’s office.

v

As Morgan fumbled in her purse for her office keys, all she could

think of was a hot bath and room service. I have to buy a house soon

or I will forever be spoiled by hotel living. Leaning on the door to dig

deeper for the hiding keys, she realized her door was slightly ajar as it

swung open into the room. Her first assumption, that the janitorial staff

was hard at work within, was dispelled by the sight of a man seated

behind her desk.

“Good evening, Professor Bradley. My, you’re working late

hours.”

Steeling herself for whatever might follow, Morgan decided to

play along with this man who knew who she was and didn’t seem to

think introductions were necessary.

“I’m dedicated to my work.”

“Clearly.” His words dripped with heavy sarcasm.

“Obviously you expected to find me here this late or you wouldn’t

be waiting. What can I do for you?”

“What can you do for me? What can you do for me?” His repetition

was mocking and his voice rose as he spoke. “You, my dear professor,

can concentrate on your classes and leave your extracurricular activities

to real lawyers.”

Morgan resisted the urge to engage in a verbal battle. Instead, she

put all her mental faculties to use in an attempt to figure out who she

was dealing with. Her silence had the unintended effect of unnerving

her visitor, and he spoke through the uncomfortable quiet.

“Surely you must know who I am? I find it hard to believe you

haven’t done your homework with regard to this case and, if you have,

you must have realized I would come to call.”

She was sure she had never seen him before, but there was a certain

familiarity about his features. She looked hard at him. Something about

the lines of his face—she had seen a similar face recently. Her memory

recalled a beautiful woman, with sad eyes. The stark features of the face

she recalled were reflected in this man, but there was no beauty here,

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only sharp features, too coarse for sadness, but hardened and shiny with

hate. Finally, the pieces fell into place and she realized the identity of

her after-hours visitor.

“Why, of course I know who you are, Mr. Burke. You’re the late

Camille Burke’s brother.”

“I have a name!”

The nature of his outburst was strange and Morgan wondered

about his mental stability. She had been in a hurry to grab her things

and leave, but she resolved to take her time sorting through this

situation, sensing any sudden action on her part would stir the volatility

simmering below the surface. She concentrated on making her voice

sound soothing.

“Mr. Theodore Burke, everyone knows who you are.”

He settled back in the chair, apparently pacified by her

acknowledgment of his fame and reputation. He nodded toward a chair

on the visitor’s side of the desk. Morgan sat and faced him, allowing

him to take the lead.

“I’ve come to talk to you like rational people, rational

professionals.”

“Certainly, I am happy to hear what you have to say.”

“You cannot represent my sister’s killer. I’m sure you realize it

was a mistake to think you could do so. Perhaps you got yourself in too

far, thinking it would be a quaint little school project.” He paused as if

to give her time to acknowledge his insight. She rewarded him with a

slight jerk of her head, urging him to continue. “But I am here to give

you a way out of your benevolence. I forbid you to work on this case.”

Morgan had realized Theodore Burke was a bit off the moment

she saw him seated behind her desk. She decided to cut him a little

slack once she realized who he was. After all, his family gave so much

money to the university, it was likely he suffered from the delusion he

owned the place. And he had been through a lot with the brutal murder

of his sister and having his family affairs dragged through the news day

after day as the trial date of the accused murderer drew closer. However,

his pronouncement forbidding her from working on the case made her

wonder if more than mere emotional turmoil drove him to confront

her. His eyes were red and the pupils were dilated. His appearance was

unkempt despite the sleek tailoring of his designer suit. His hair looked

unwashed. He seemed unbalanced, edgy, almost cracked. Again,

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Morgan had to check her normal impulses, which were all telling her

to waste no time ordering this man from her office. She sensed a direct

confrontation would only fuel his erratic behavior. Eyeing him warily,

she rose and slowly crossed the room. She offered Theodore Burke her

hand.

“Mr. Burke, I am sorry for your loss. I can see the extent of your

grief. I will consider, very carefully, your request.” Morgan walked

toward the door. “Now, I am sorry, but I must be going.”

“You will not consider anything!” His eyes bulged and his shout

was punctuated by the crash of Morgan’s chair, which he knocked over

while standing to emphasize his point. “You will withdraw immediately!

I will not finance the defense of my sister’s murderer!”

Morgan lost her composure and backed away from the force of his

outburst, connecting hard with someone standing behind her. Turning

her head slightly, she realized the impediment was Parker, glaring

ferociously at Theodore Burke. Morgan felt Parker grab her around the

waist and push her back, taking long strides toward the desk where

Theodore seemed torn between anger and surprise at the new addition

to the tableau he had created. His surprise was heightened when

Parker grabbed the lapels of his fancy suit and pushed him to the floor.

Standing over him, she growled, “Lower your voice.” She turned back

to Morgan and asked, “Is there any reason this gentleman shouldn’t be

leaving?” Without waiting for Morgan’s response, Parker pulled Burke

to his feet and propelled him toward the door, shoved him through, and

shut it behind him.

Turning to Morgan, she asked, “Are you all right?”

Morgan shoved her away. “What the hell were you thinking? Do

you know who he was?”

Surprise at Morgan’s reaction rendered Parker incapable of

response.

“Parker, talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” Parker at once felt stupid and

angry. “I thought you were in trouble and I stepped in to help. I’m

sorry.” She was and she wasn’t. Theodore Burke was crazy. His bizarre

behavior was not a very well kept secret among those on the force.

Family money can cover up a lot of things, but when you have to use

it as hush money, the word inevitably gets out. She was sorry Morgan

was mad, but she wasn’t sorry she had interfered.

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“After that little display, I think we can both count on being called

on the carpet tomorrow. He is Camille Burke’s brother.”

Parker nodded. “I know.”

“Then you must know his reaction to having the law school he

helps fund defend the man accused of killing his sister.”

“You mean his family helps fund.”

“What?”

Parker delivered her assessment confidently. “His family. Theodore

Burke has never worked a day in his life. He sees any part of the Burke

fortune spent to make this college a better place as an erosion of his

inheritance. If Teddy Burke had anything to do with it, we’d be sitting

on the floor and reading from stone tablets.”

Morgan contemplated Parker from across the room. Her eyes still

shone bright with anger from the confrontation and she was poised as

if ready for a fight. She was sleek and sure and sexy as hell. Great, she

thought, Parker’s going to get you kicked off the faculty and all you can

think of is how her taut and ready body would feel sprawled on your

desk. Morgan grabbed her purse and briefcase and walked to the door.

“He was a bit creepy, but I’m sure there’s going to be hell to pay later.”

She pointed at the open door. “It’s been a long day. Let’s call it a night

and we can talk about this more Monday.”

Parker reached for Morgan’s bags while she locked up and walked

alongside her toward the faculty parking lot. When they reached her

car, Morgan turned to face her.

“Whether it was warranted or not, I appreciate the rescue attempt.

Have a good evening.”

Parker didn’t move. “I think I should follow you home.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

Parker looked confused for a moment before she realized the

implication of her remark. “No, no. I only want to make sure you aren’t

followed.”

Morgan dipped toward disappointment, but she recovered quickly.

“Please, Parker, I think I can handle myself. Do you actually think

Teddy Burke is lurking in the shadows ready to follow me home?”

“Maybe. Would it kill you to trust my instincts on this?” Parker

wore her fighter look again, but this time it was Morgan she looked

ready to take on. “My car’s around the corner. Drop me off and let me

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follow you home. I promise once you’re safely inside, I’ll go quietly

into the night.”

Morgan examined her words and caught a wistful undercurrent

to the commanding tone. She was naturally stubborn and unwilling to

admit she wasn’t perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Letting

Parker assume the role of her protector even if it was only for a short

drive across town would surely undermine her authority. Now you’re

kidding yourself. As if you have any authority over this woman who

has made you come more times in the past few weeks than you did in

the entire time you were with Tina. Grasping at a semblance of control,

Morgan spoke.

“Fine. But you won’t go quietly into the night.” Morgan pointed

to the open door of her Lexus. “Get in.” She started the SUV and drove

to Parker’s Mustang, parked at the rear of the student lot. Avoiding

Parker’s eyes, she said, “I need a drink and I want you to join me.”

Catching the veiled look of surprise on Parker’s face, she added, “I’m

living at the Hotel Palomar. Leave your car with the valet.” As Morgan

sped toward the hotel, she wondered if she was speeding toward

disaster.

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chapter eleven

The Hotel Palomar was a swanky place and Parker was

uncomfortably conscious of her attire. Levi’s and a T-shirt

were perfect for all of her usual haunts—school, bar, library, dive

restaurants—but not here where the rich and pretty gathered to celebrate

their wealth and beauty. When she carried a badge, she didn’t much care

how she looked in relation to where she was or where she wanted to

go. The shine of her gold shield granted her entrance to venues denied

to many. Without the shield, she sometimes felt naked. This was one of

those times. Fake it, she told herself.

Tossing the keys to the valet, she told him to keep her car ready to

go, she might need to leave in a hurry. Smothering a grin at his curious

stare, she strode through the heavy draped curtains and into Morgan’s

boutique home.

“May I help you, ma’am?”

Parker turned to the bellman who approached. She nodded. “The

bar?”

“This way, ma’am.”

She followed him. At first she was annoyed at being led around,

but when she saw Morgan seated alone at the glass and chrome hotel

bar, she was grateful to the human shield for hiding the spark of her

initial reaction. Morgan’s hair was tossed back and the red highlights

glinted in the shiny bar. Parker could see every inch of her long, lean

legs. Her suit jacket was slung on the back of her chair and the sight of

her bare arms caused Parker to catch her breath. She had seen Morgan

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without a speck of clothing, but hints of Morgan’s skin in fine fabric

seemed to turn her on even more than full exposure.

Morgan was reading from a tiny bar menu and Parker was certain

she did not see her approach. She was surprised when Morgan spoke to

her before she even reached the table.

“Scotch, single malt?”

“Oh, first you order me here, then you order my drink.”

“Problem?”

Parker slid into the seat beside Morgan and snatched the menu

from her grasp. “No, not a problem.” Scanning the menu, she continued,

“You pick my drink and I’ll pick yours.” Running her finger down the

page, she read the entries. “If I’m a single malt Scotch, then what must

you be?”

Morgan eyed Parker, her student, and wondered why she invited

her here. They were flirting, as she must have known they would.

Driving around quiet neighborhoods looking at real estate was one

thing, but sitting closely in a high-toned bar was a completely different

matter. She relished Parker’s grin as she perused the drink menu in

search of the perfect cocktail. Her dark, wavy hair fell in scattered

strands across her brow. Morgan desperately wanted to reach over and

brush away the strands of wayward hair. A simple gesture, but she held

back because of their relative position. Did she think she would find a

loss of restraint in alcohol?

“Ah, here we go. A Manhattan. A metropolitan drink for the high-

powered city lawyer.” Without waiting for a response, Parker flagged

down the cocktail waitress and ordered a Manhattan for Morgan and a

Macallan, neat, for herself.

“High-powered city lawyer? At the moment, I’m a humble college

professor.”

Parker laughed. “In three years of law school, I don’t think I’ve

ever met a humble professor. I suppose there’s a first for everything.”

Morgan feigned hurt. “So you think I’m conceited?”

Parker searched Morgan’s eyes and found sincerity behind the

question. The hurt on her face might be a put-on, but on some level she

needed reassurance. Interesting, Parker thought, I would have never

guessed she ever doubted herself. Parker placed her hand on Morgan’s.

“I think you’re confident. And with good reason. You have an amazing

track record as a trial attorney and you’re an amazing teacher.” She

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gave Morgan an earnest look before continuing. “And I think you’re

amazing for a variety of other reasons.”

As Morgan shifted on her seat Parker withdrew her hand,

wondering if she had gone too far. She invited me here—for drinks,

after all. If anyone is blurring the lines, it’s not me. She was about to

deliver some equivocation when Morgan reached across the table for

her hand.

“Well, Parker Casey, I think you’re pretty amazing too. For a

variety of reasons.”

Parker pushed the point. “I feel as if we’re crossing certain lines

here. Lines you seemed to think were very important not so long ago.”

“I see. Too many mixed messages?”

“It’s only an observation. I’m not necessarily complaining.” Parker

had her own reservations about taking whatever it was they were doing

any further. Before she could give the idea much consideration, Morgan

pressed on.

“I can’t explain this, but I want to get to know you better. You

have many layers, Parker Casey.”

Parker smiled. “More than you thought when you were having a

one-night stand with the bartender, right?”

“Ouch.” Morgan frowned and Parker was instantly sorry for the

remark.

“Sorry. I suppose that constituted an unnecessary dig. But I am

terribly curious about why you were lost in the alley.” Parker hadn’t

realized it until that very moment, but she was indeed curious about

why a successful, good-looking woman like Morgan had been standing

alone in the dark by a Dumpster. When she met Morgan again, she

was too stunned by the realization she was her professor to give much

thought to the logistics of their one-night stand.

Morgan took a long drink from her Manhattan and stared at Parker

as if trying to read her thoughts. Seconds felt like minutes before she

broke her gaze, looking down at her drink. She fished a cherry from the

glass and twirled it on the end of her swizzle stick. Parker waited with

a cop’s patience. Finally, Morgan stopped playing with her drink, ate

the cherry, and downed the rest. She signaled the waitress for another

round before she spoke.

“I’ve been staying here since I moved to Dallas.”

Parker waited, certain the story was longer than those few words.

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“I moved to Dallas because my partner, and I don’t mean law

partner, of ten years was offered a great opportunity to turn around a

tech company.”

Parker waited still, calling all her powers of concentration to bear

in order to keep Morgan from seeing her stiffen at the mention of a

partner. Where is she going with this?

“Tina moved here a couple of months before me. She came early

to buy us a new house while I dealt with all the details of getting our

home back East sold, packed, and shipped. I finished with time to spare

and decided to show up a week early as a surprise. I got to the house

late in the evening, but Tina wasn’t in. There were a few messages on

the answering machine, and from what I could tell, a group of her new

Dallas friends were heading out to the bar and wanted her to come

along. I had it partly right.

“I decided my early arrival would be an even better surprise if I

showed up at the bar. Tina was always bitching that I never cut loose,

so I decided to sex up my look. You remember the low-riding jeans,

halter top, the fuck-me shoes?” Parker nodded. “Well, that outfit is not

my normal fare. In fact, I rarely go to bars at all. I just thought…”

Morgan’s voice trailed off. Parker waited while Morgan took a drink of

her Manhattan and fiddled with the ice in her glass. “I don’t know what

I was thinking. Tina and I spent the last ten years going our separate

ways. I suppose I thought the move to Dallas would be a step back

toward each other. I was wrong.

“I took a cab to the bar, sure I would have a ride home at the end

of the night. I went in, got a drink, and waited for my eyes to adjust

to the dark. I was sitting at the bar, sipping on one of these,” Morgan

held up her new drink, “when I saw them. Tina and what had to be a

model melded together on the dance floor. The music was fast, but they

didn’t seem to notice the beat, or anything else for that matter. They

were practically wearing each other’s clothes, they were so close. In ten

years of living together, Tina never kissed me like that, never looked

at me with that much longing in her eyes. To tell the truth, she could

probably say the same for me. Later, I realized seeing her direct that

much passion toward someone else was exactly what I needed to finally

make the break I knew was best. But when I saw her wrapped around

that woman, all I could think of in that moment was getting out of there

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with some of my dignity intact. They had danced their way into the path

of the front door, so I headed for the only other exit I could find.”

“And wound up in the alley.”

Morgan smiled ruefully. “I’ve had better exit strategies.”

“What were you going to do if I hadn’t come along?”

“Scale a fence, call a cab, find a place to sleep for the night. Wake

up, dust myself off, and start over.”

“Regrets?”

Morgan felt the weight within the question, and carefully

considered her answer. “None that mattered at the time. You were

everything I needed. White knight, passionate lover, gorgeous woman.

I decided right then I could feel sorry for myself or I could make the

best of a bad situation. I sought solace with you and you didn’t even

know you were salve for my wounded ego.” Morgan reached across

the table. “I’m sorry. I suppose I used you, and on some level I feel bad

about it.”

As Parker listened to Morgan’s story of her first day living back in

the city where she grew up, her stiffness melted. Morgan’s telling was

straightforward and even self-deprecating, but it invited comfort and

affection, which Parker desperately wanted to give. As she listened,

she realized in a way she already had, even if it wasn’t the kind she

felt she should offer now. Their first meeting had been about physical

need, satisfaction. What she felt now was different. Now she wanted to

hold Morgan in her arms and tell her she was beautiful, tell her she was

amazing, tell her she was cared for.

It was Parker’s turn to finish her drink. As the amber liquid burned

a gentle path down her throat, she contemplated whether she felt used

for the events of their first encounter. Would it even matter if they

had never met again? If Morgan had been one of her usual one-night

stands, she would have been resigned to never seeing her again. But

fate had dealt them a curious hand, throwing them into this situation

of juxtaposed power and intimate connection. She pushed the empty

glass aside and reached for the new one, taking another swallow. The

mellow haze of the alcohol allowed her to admit to herself she did feel

used, but she was strangely proud she had been available when Morgan

needed her.

A comfortable silence enveloped them as Parker negotiated her

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own feelings about their chance encounter and where it had taken them.

They were one of only a few occupied tables in the bar and the waitress

was exercising excellent diligence in her ability to anticipate their needs

without interrupting either their words or silence. Parker’s nod ordered

their next round. She sensed her heart-to-heart with Morgan was in its

infancy.

Morgan proved her correct. No sooner had she licked the sugar

rim of her new glass than she posed a question for Parker.

“What is a star homicide detective doing working in a bar and

going back to school?” Morgan almost winced as she delivered the

words. She felt duplicitous. She did know part of the story from Ford,

and Parker had to know Morgan would have ready access to courthouse

gossip. But she didn’t know the whole story, and she sensed the complete

tale held the key to unlock the mystery. Parker was an enigma in so

many ways. She was earnest and hardworking, yet she had chucked an

entire career and was building a new life for herself from the beginning.

It had to be hard to go back to school with students much younger and

compete again for accolades she should have already earned from life.

Top it off with the fact Parker worked in a bar and lived in a house

with roommates. There were indeed many layers to Parker, and Morgan

wanted to see more than what was visible on the surface.

Why? she asked herself. Is it because we slept together? Has

it been so long since you had a one-night stand you feel as if you

have to get to know the person you were with so you can justify the

relationship, however fleeting? Despite the nagging questions, Morgan

knew the reason for her need to know came from a deep place. Once

again she was struck by the force of the connection she felt with Parker,

whose body she had thoroughly known but whose heart she had barely

glimpsed. She hung on Parker’s answer.

“Star homicide detective, huh? You might want to review the

evidence, Counselor. This here detective was fired from the force.”

Parker’s expression was cold, but sadness clouded her eyes.

“Can you tell me about it?”

Interesting phrasing, Parker observed. Sure, she was capable of

recounting the story of how her stellar career had crashed and burned.

She knew Morgan’s question was more probing than a simple inquiry

about whether she could tell a tale. She wanted to know if Parker had

the fortitude to survive the telling. Had time and distance severed the

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emotion surrounding the collapse of her aspirations? She wasn’t sure,

but she wanted to share her story with Morgan and she wasn’t sure why.

Maybe it was simply because she had asked.

Parker met Morgan’s patient gaze and answered, “Yes.”

Morgan waited.

“I don’t want to do it here.” The flat words were tinged with a

plea. Parker had not told her story in its entirety to anyone. Some knew

the details, but only because they had lived it with her. She had no idea

how sharing her experience would affect her and she did not want to

wind up blubbering in a hotel bar.

Morgan slid from her chair and motioned for Parker to wait. She

sought out the waitress, ordered another round, and asked that the

drinks and the bill be sent to her room. Returning to the table, she lifted

her jacket from the back of her chair, shrugged into it, and walked away

from the table, signaling Parker to follow.

She squelched her desire to hold Parker’s hand, to put her arm

around her waist and pull her close. Once in the elevator, she pushed

the button for her floor, resisting the urge to jam the car between floors

and exercise the physical yearning stirring in her core. She sensed

Parker needed some distance for what she was about to relay, and the

feelings she had for Parker outweighed the needs of her body. Idly she

wondered at her shift from lust to yearning. She pushed the thought

away, but the feeling lingered. What she felt in this moment for Parker

was vastly different from anything she had ever felt before, with Tina,

with anyone. Protective, empathetic, caring combined with infatuation,

affection, and craving to form a new emotion for which she had no

words.

You are falling in love.

The inner voice was strong and sure and Morgan felt certain

it was not her own. Love was a structured framework reached by

agreement, not this heady, lust-filled passion over which she had little,

if any, control. Love was sharing the mortgage, saving for retirement,

swapping household duties by turn. The emotion enveloping her now

held no room for such practicalities. Lust perhaps, but love? Not a

chance. She shrugged away the voice’s declaration and unlocked the

door to her room.

Parker followed Morgan all the way to the room without taking in

a single detail of their route. She was numb. When room service arrived

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with a new glass of Scotch, accompanied by the rest of the bottle, the

sight allowed her a small measure of relaxation. She was prepped to

remain numb for the storytelling portion of the evening.

Seated on the couch, she sipped her drink and watched Morgan

settle in. Slender feet slipped from designer sandals. Parker distracted

herself by conjuring up a name for the pearlized copper color of

Morgan’s toenails. Bronze seemed too plain. She remembered rifling

through a victim’s medicine cabinet one night while the scene tech

catalogued the contents. The nail polish names were endlessly creative:

Cheer Me Up Cherry, Over the Top Orange. Maybe Morgan’s could be

called Penny for Your Thoughts.

After an undeterminable length of time, Morgan settled in the

overstuffed chair across from her, poured herself a Scotch, and waited.

Parker knew this was her cue. She leaned back and closed her eyes,

picturing the events in her mind as she told the entire story for the first

time ever.

“We’d worked on the case for weeks without a break, and the

killings were coming faster. Each body was found wrapped in plastic

and dumped in the Trinity River. Days old, still buoyant, surrounded by

cast-off debris. Young women, beautiful women, their bright futures and

dreams violated, suffocated and abandoned. Skye and I had delivered

the news to four families and we were drained. Listening to their wails,

their tears, their dashed hopes, I vowed we would bring this killer to

justice, and I didn’t much care what form justice took. I had no idea my

resolution would spell disaster.”

Parker paused. Already she could tell dredging up these memories

was going to be harder than she imagined. She met Morgan’s patient

glance, took a drink, and pushed through.

“Vice had been investigating this guy, a sleazy little man who got

his rocks off looking at blondes in torture scenes on the ’net. Not your

average S&M, but full-on brutal torture—fire, baseball bats, racks.

They were convinced he was a key player in a child porn ring in North

Texas. Turns out they were right, though we didn’t confirm it until it

didn’t matter anymore. They had him dead to rights on obscenity, but

they decided to hold out for more. Child porn is a sure trip to the pen.

One image saved on the computer is all it takes to fuck up someone’s

life for good.

“Turns out one of the women we found showed up in a picture

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streaming from this guy’s computer. Vice brought us the info, desperate

to have us bring him in. Skye was all for it, but I didn’t want to spook

him and made the call we should wait until we had more. We were

working hard to connect this guy with the killings when next thing we

know Vice tips us off. The guy’s booking a one-way to Rio and putting

his house on the market. We didn’t have time to wait for the forensics,

and we decided to take a chance on talking to him to see if we could

turn up any leads on the killings. The investigation was ramping up

and we had nothing except the lead on this guy. We were determined to

follow it and nail the bastard. He had to know something, right?”

Morgan nodded, but Parker wondered if she truly agreed. Morgan

had never worked the other side, hadn’t had a chance to learn frontline

respect for a cop’s instinct. Parker pressed, desperate to earn Morgan’s

respect even as she feared she would never have it.“Skye and I showed

up at his house. We didn’t have a warrant, but sometimes these guys—

sociopaths—enjoy talking to the cops, playing with us. As we rolled up

to his place, Vice showed up as well, Detectives Morales and Ranell.

I’m sure they were either watching his house or following us to see

where our investigation was leading. Probably both.

“Sure enough, the guy, Edward Tucker, invites us in, dripping

hospitality. He offers to serve us afternoon tea, complete with finger

sandwiches and tiny cakes. Morales and Ranell left the questioning

to us and Tucker was more than accommodating. He went on and on

about how horrified he was to know the Trinity River Killer was still on

the loose and gushed about the fear all young women in the city must

be feeling to know this evil force had yet to be apprehended. He was

very convincing and he knew it. I wanted to punch him until the sneaky

gleam in his eyes died away.

“I didn’t hit him, but I didn’t live up to my gold shield either. I

guess I’ll never be entirely sure of what happened next.

“Tucker excused himself to the kitchen. While he was gone, I

talked to Skye about ways to break him, make him tell us something we

could use to wedge open a lead. I was more concerned about cracking

the case than following procedure—otherwise I wouldn’t have let him

wander off. Next thing I knew, Ranell was whispering in Skye’s ear

and I noticed his partner was MIA. I started to ask where he went, but

before the words hit the air, they were blasted by the sound of gunfire.

We drew our guns and ran toward the back of the house. I knew in my

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gut this was going to end badly.” Parker looked down at her hands, only

mildly surprised to find they were shaking. She released the iron grip

on the half-full glass in her hand and eased it onto the table, fighting

the drive to drink it down. She had battled similar urges back then and

she willed herself to do so again. At least until she could finish telling

her story.

“Tucker wasn’t so cocky anymore. He was lying face down in a

pool of blood, the back of his shirt ripped through from the bullet that

snuffed his life. Morales was standing a few feet away, his gun still

trained on Tucker’s body.

“I checked his pulse, but I knew it was pointless. I asked what the

hell happened, but nobody had anything to say. Morales completely

ignored me. He finally put his gun away and started frantically opening

doors and drawers in the room. Ranell joins in and the two of them

start tearing apart the room. Skye just stood there. She wouldn’t look

me in the eye. My first instinct was to call in the shooting, but I ignored

it. I wanted to know what the hell they were up to. Since Morales was

ignoring me, I grabbed his arm and got in his face and yelled at him to

tell me what had happened.

“Nothing could have prepared me for what he said. During my

conversation with Tucker, he had decided to do a little warrantless

searching, hoping to find some evidence in plain sight so he could

justify an arrest. While he talked I lost track of the number of ways I had

disgraced my badge during the afternoon. I was so intent on engaging

Tucker, I hadn’t even noticed Morales leave the room.

“He had found Tucker’s study, the room where we were standing.

As I looked around, I could tell Morales thought he’d hit the mother lode.

The room was full of computer equipment, complete with sophisticated

webcams and high-speed disc-writing drives. Morales said he’d barely

scratched the surface when Tucker snuck up behind him.

“Tucker started taunting Morales, telling him he knew what he

was looking for and asking if Morales thought he was stupid enough,

careless enough, to leave evidence lying around. He turned his back

on Morales and reached in a drawer, all the while needling Morales

about his inferior investigative skills. Tucker pulled something out of

the drawer and raised it over his head, saying, ‘I know how to protect

myself.’

“Morales heard his words and saw something shiny. He didn’t

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hestitate. He drew his weapon and fired point blank. The bullet hit

Tucker in the back and kept on going, blasting out of his chest. Morales

raced across the room and grabbed the shiny object out of Tucker’s

hand. It was a CD. Wiping software. A hard-core program not sold in

stores. Standard weapon for all serious child pornographers. There was

no gun.”

“But he didn’t know that when he fired.” Morgan’s voice was

gentle, her words couched in compassion.

Parker shook her head. “Maybe so. I would have found it a lot

easier to believe him except for what happened next. Morales finished

telling his story and went right back to searching the room. I finally

managed to recover enough to make him tell me what he was doing. He

acted like I was an idiot. ‘What do you think I’m doing? I just shot a

guy in the back. A worthless piece of scum who deserved to die and I’m

not going down for it. I’m sure he owns a gun and before we call this in,

the gun is going to be in his hand, freshly fired. Now, you can help me

or stay out of my way. Your choice, but shut up with the questions.’ He

and Ranell went back to their search as if I wasn’t there.

“It was becoming clear these guys were on a mission and they

weren’t going to tolerate anyone getting in their way. I looked at Skye,

but she woudn’t look back. Her face was set and stern. I’d known her

for years, and while I never questioned her ethics, I was well acquainted

with her aversion to rocking the boat. Over the years, she had gone to

great pains to keep her private life secret for fear an out lesbian would

garner less respect on the force. She thought her sexual orientation was

a closely guarded secret, but I’m sure all the guys she wouldn’t give the

time of day to had no doubt about her preferences. She made up for her

inability to emulate a straight woman by fitting in as one of the guys in

a brotherhood that demanded unfettered loyalty.

“Now, our loyalty to our brothers was being put on the line,

and while we both thought our choices were clear, we ended up on

completely different sides. This was never clearer to me than when Skye

pulled a throw-down from an ankle holster and handed it to Morales.

As I watched her hand him the gun, the key to their cover-up, I decided

I was on my own. I radioed in and reported the shooting. I clicked off

when the questions from dispatch started coming fast and furious.

“Skye pulled me aside and impressed upon me the importance of

sticking together. I had no idea her insecurities were so strong. Once

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they realized I had no intention of joining forces, they huddled together

and talked as if I wasn’t in the room and couldn’t hear their every word.

Next thing we knew the place was flooded with cops to take over the

investigation and union reps, one for each of us. Then the suits from

IAD arrived and our helpful union representatives gave us the only

advice they had to offer: give a statement or lose the job. We were

separated at that point. For all I know Skye and other two stuck to the

story they’d concocted. I turned over my gun and badge and left in

the department vehicle, accompanied by a uniformed rookie who was

clueless about why he was charged with the task of dropping me off at

home and then driving my vehicle back to the station.”

“What a horrible betrayal.” Morgan’s voice was full of anger now.

“Your partner should have had your back.”

“You can’t even imagine the many layers of Skye’s disloyalty.”

Parker winced at the memory of the pain inflicted by her former lover.

“The next few months were a blur. We were all suspended pending

investigation. I told the investigators the truth about the shooting,

though not the whole of it. I couldn’t bring myself to go so far as to

nail Skye with the truth of her role in the cover-up and I couldn’t figure

out a way to pin it on the other detectives without bringing her down as

well. It didn’t take me long to realize no one wanted to hear anything I

had to say. The normally brutal IAD detectives lobbed me chance after

chance to bring my story in line with the others. I was tempted, but

the truth was I had no idea if Skye and the others were sticking to the

story they cooked up at Tucker’s house. I told them everything I heard

and saw, but I pretended to have no idea where the gun in Tucker’s

hand had come from. And I didn’t. I had no idea Skye carried a throw-

down weapon. I learned I knew very little about her. I got more and

more disgruntled every time I was called back down to the station. The

lawyer the union hired was a spineless bastard who exerted more effort

trying to get me to conform than he did trying to defend me.

“I was number one in my class at the academy. I earned my gold

shield faster than any cop in the department. I had been decorated

for valor and had a list of commendations longer than my arm. My

accomplishments were meaningless in the wake of the train of deception

shooting down the tracks, and my ‘brothers’ were the ones who had tied

me down. I was fired for cause, stripped of rank, pay, and retirement. I

was so devastated I got no comfort from the fact Morales was fired as

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well. The outcome of the administrative hearing was Morales had acted

badly in snooping around the house and shooting a guy in the back and

I, as the lead detective, knew or should have known he was a loose

cannon. Never mind the fact he was a detective in his own right and

belonged to a different department. I got the message behind my firing.

I hadn’t gone along. I had betrayed the loyalty of the brotherhood and

I was no longer trusted to do the right thing, however loosely defined

the right thing was.”

Parker stared at the half-empty bottle of Scotch sitting on the table.

She had no recollection of drinking while she talked and shook her head

to assess the buzz she felt. It was strong, but not strong enough. She

leaned forward and filled her glass, drinking deeply through the silence.

Seconds stretched into minutes and, hearing no response, she turned

to meet Morgan’s face, fortifying herself for whatever expression she

might find there.

She saw pain and she wondered vaguely at the source. Finally,

Morgan spoke.

“Did it end there?”

“Not quite. Tucker’s family crawled out of the woodwork to sue

the department for wrongful death. Actually, they seemed like nice

people and I’m sure they saw the lawsuit as a way to compensate for

the pain of raising a child who, despite their efforts, turned out to be a

monster. I was subpoenaed as a witness and wound up hiring a lawyer

on my own to discuss the pros and cons of taking the Fifth. Out of a

job, I had precious little money, but I didn’t trust the union hack who

had ‘represented my interests’ to the department. My lawyer convinced

me to fight my termination and I wound up suing the department and

taking advantage of their desire to keep all their wrongful acts out of

the public forum. My settlement is paying for law school. You could

say I was inspired by my experience to use my powers to fight for the

underdog.

“The irony of it all is Tucker wasn’t the Trinity River Killer.

Everyone thought for sure he was the one since the killings stopped

right after he died, but the family gave permission for a DNA test

and there was no match. I think they wanted to know for themselves

whether his life had any redeeming value. The killer’s still out there.

Maybe he’ll call on me to represent him someday.”

Parker’s final words on the subject were delivered with thick

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sarcasm, but Morgan could read the pain behind them. She ached to

draw Parker close, hold her and comfort her, but Parker was distant

and she feared pulling her close would break rather than forge any

connection they had.

Morgan contemplated the rush of feeling she had experienced in

the elevator. Was she indeed falling in love? To the outside observer,

her feelings were well placed. Not only was Parker smart and beautiful,

she was brave and honorable as well. Morgan pondered whether what

she felt for Parker was real or whether it was the by-product of Parker

having saved the day the night she came to town. As she reflected on

that night, she had no doubt the physical attraction was real, but what

about this intense desire that had developed that was entirely separate

from their sexual attraction? Love and lust started to wind their way

around each other and Morgan wasn’t sure she could trust her ability

to tell them apart. She decided that until she did, she wouldn’t act on

either. To do so was to risk hurting Parker, and she had suffered enough

betrayal from others who lacked the courage of their convictions.

Morgan resolved she would keep her feelings to herself until she was

sure.

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chapter twelve

Parker walked in from the garage and headed straight to the

kitchen. She wanted coffee, but she needed water more. She

had woken up about forty-five minutes before, sprawled on the couch

in Morgan’s hotel room. They were both fully dressed and Parker felt

the dull throb of a hangover begin to take hold. She eased her way

out of the room, casting a wistful glance at Morgan sound asleep on

the couch. It had been a strange night. The only one they had shared

without sleeping together, yet it was the most intimate by far. Now, as

she chugged a bottle of cold water, Parker regretted not stealing a kiss

before she left.

Parker was so wrapped up in the memory, she didn’t notice

the presence of anyone else in the kitchen. The scraping sound of a

throat clearing caused her to turn abruptly and smack her head on the

refrigerator door.

“What the hell?” She rubbed her head and stared at Kelsey and

Dex, who were standing in the middle of the kitchen staring right back

at her. Slowly, her memory started to return. Dex. Research. Saturday

morning. Shit. She wondered if they had seen her come in from the

garage, dressed in yesterday’s clothes. Feeling like a kid caught with

her hand in the cookie jar, she scrambled. “Oh, hi, Dex. Sorry, I had to

run out this morning and get some stuff. Give me five minutes and I’ll

be raring to go.” She grabbed the bottle of water and jogged out of the

room without waiting for a response.

v

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They had been working for almost two hours when Dex abruptly

pushed the button on the computer monitor. As the screen faded to

black, Parker exclaimed, “Hey, I was reading a case!”

Dex settled into the chair next to her. “We need to talk.”

Parker squirmed in her seat. “Dex dear, we’ve been talking. We’ve

talked all morning. I think we’re getting close to having this motion

briefed. Can we finish please?”

“In a minute.” Dex took a deep breath. “Gerald Lopez came by to

see me last night.”

“Is he feeling a little left out? I’ll never figure out how he made the

team in the first place.”

“Yeah, me neither. But apparently he’s got a pretty big chip on his

shoulder and it has to do with you.”

Gerald had never hidden his jealousy for her success in school.

He believed he was entitled to accomplishment because his daddy was

a hotshot lawyer, alum, and major contributor to the law school. He

viewed Parker as a lowly cop, which figured into his calculation that he

was more deserving of success than she. Parker had no idea what Dex

was about to say, but whatever it was, she wasn’t surprised about the

fact Gerald didn’t like her. She was surprised, though, that Gerald had

bothered to talk to Dex about his feelings, since he had to know Dex

and Parker were tight.

“Gerald has it in his head you and Professor Bradley have a

thing.”

Not in a million years did she expect this revelation. Her feelings

furiously treaded water while her thoughts swam in search of an

acceptable response. “A thing? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dex gave Parker a knowing look. “Don’t make me spell it out.

You know what I mean. He says he saw you two, quote, ‘cuddling up in

class’ and riding off somewhere together last night.”

“What did you say to him?”

“I threatened to beat the shit out of him.” Dex gave her a pointed

look. “Was my bluster unfounded?”

Parker managed to return Dex’s look, but couldn’t find words to

convey a simple answer to his question complete with an explanation

of the complexity of her relationship with Morgan. She had trouble

understanding the situation herself. How could she expect Dex to

comprehend? As she watched his expectant expression, she realized

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their friendship demanded she at least try to explain. Knowing Dex,

Gerald had suffered for even bringing up the issue, and she owed Dex

for his loyalty.

Parker told Dex everything, from the first moment in the alley to

her soul-baring episode of the evening before. She omitted no detail,

not even her involved past with Skye, and was surprised at the sense

of relief she felt at the telling. Years of training allowed Dex to listen

without reacting, giving Parker no idea how he felt about her revelations.

When she finished she waited expectantly.

“Wow.” The one word revealed the surprise his flat tone was

meant to hide.

“Wow? You don’t have anything to say but wow?” Parker waited

for his thoughts to catch up to his feelings.

Dex shook his head. “So you’ve slept with both the lead detective

on the Chavez case and the lead defense attorney. Gee, Parker, any

other major players on this case you haven’t bagged?”

Parker stood abruptly, knocking over the reams of research they

had compiled. “You’re an ass.”

“Come on, Parker. What the hell did you expect me to say? ‘Way

to go’?”

Parker was furious at Dex for his callous reaction and furious with

herself for sharing with him. “I don’t expect anything from you. We’re

done here, aren’t we?”

Realizing he was being dismissed, Dex stomped across the room

and gathered his things. “Sure, Parker. We’re done. Since you seem to

have the inside track, why don’t you finish briefing the motion? I’m

sure your work will be more than satisfactory.”

Parker glared through his departure. She waited until she heard

the front door slam shut before grabbing the nearest text and hurling it

across the room. Where did he get off? Their friendly competition to

graduate first in their class seemed to have morphed into a brawl at her

revelation. Surely he didn’t think she slept with Morgan to come out

on top? She glanced up at the sound of approaching footsteps and saw

Kelsey standing in the doorway.

“Are you done throwing things?”

Parker met Kelsey’s questioning look. “I don’t know. The first

throw barely scratched the surface of my anger.” She grimaced. “Enter

with caution.”

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To her surprise, Kelsey marched across the room and gathered her

up in a fierce hug. “Parker Casey, you’re not angry. You’re confused.

You’ve gotten yourself wrapped up in a complicated situation and you

can’t seem to find a way out of it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Parker. You’ve got a crush on your teacher.”

Parker felt the blood drain from her face. She was intrigued by

Morgan. She admired her. She was irresistibly attracted to her. But a

crush? Not a chance. Before she could eke out the words to challenge

Kelsey’s assumption, Kelsey put a finger over her lips.

“Not a word out of you. You’re about to vehemently deny my

conclusion. Forget it, Parker. I’m a doctor, which makes me a practiced

observer of physical and emotional signs. I know you didn’t come home

last night and I’m quite sure I know who you were with. When it comes

to Morgan Bradley, you exhibit all the classic symptoms of a woman

who is infatuated. Whatever you have to say isn’t going to change my

diagnosis. Think about it and get used to the idea. Because you’re going

to have to do something about it before you trample all your friends

beating a trail away from your feelings.” Kelsey released Parker from

her grasp and held her at arm’s length. “I’m going downstairs to make

dinner. Beat your pillows with a tennis racket, take a warm bath, count

to a hundred. Do whatever you need to do to regain your composure

and then join me in the kitchen. I expect you to eat.”

Parker stood transfixed as Kelsey left the room. Infatuated, my ass,

she thought. Surely Kelsey was reading more into recent events than

she should. After all, last night had been nothing more than a drink-

induced truthfest with nothing loverlike about it. All she remembered

was baring her soul, drinking most of a bottle of good Scotch, and

waking up with Morgan at her side. She had for a moment wondered if

more had happened, but seeing Morgan fully dressed next to her on the

sofa put to rest any questions she might have had.

She turned Kelsey’s words over and over in her mind, searching

for truth. After a few minutes’ consideration, she opted to ignore the

bulk of Kelsey’s advice. She spent the next hour furiously banging on

her laptop keyboard, then she printed her work, proofed it, and made

her way downstairs to feign an appetite.

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chapter thirteen

Morgan, Dex, and Luis were seated at the defense counsel’s

table, waiting for the judge to take the bench. Morgan leaned

over to her client and gave him an idea of what to expect from the

hearing they were about to have. She told him they would be discussing

various procedural issues, including the expected length of the trial

and any issues that needed a ruling in advance from the court. Morgan

told him the judge might decide to hear testimony about the motion to

suppress she had filed the day before.

Luis was dressed in a jail-issue black and white striped jumpsuit

and faux Crocs. Morgan noticed his sister was in the gallery and she

leaned over to ask Dex to remind her that Luis would need street clothes

for the actual trial. Satisfied that detail was addressed, Morgan focused

on the brief Dex and Parker had prepared on the suppression issue.

They had done a fantastic job, but the decision could go either way. The

judge was likely to focus on whether Luis had constructively waived

his rights by continuing to answer questions after his rights were read

to him. A lot would hinge on the testimony of Skye Keaton, who was

waiting with the prosecutor. If the judge decided to take up the motion,

Skye would be the State’s star witness.

Morgan wanted to claw the woman’s eyes out. Everything about

her, from the cocky comfort of her reclining pose to the smirk playing

along the edge of her lips, fueled the fire of Morgan’s rage. Channel

it, she told herself. Use her cockiness. Let her hang herself with pride.

Morgan took a deep breath and forced the strength of calm to take over.

This wasn’t the time or place to bring up Skye Keaton’s internal affairs

record. With no jury in the box, the shock value would be minimal, and

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it was likely the judge already knew about her record. After all, she had

probably testified in this court on numerous other occasions since her

reprimand and the damage to her credibility was old news to the man

on the bench. Morgan forced herself to wait, knowing she would get

much more play from the shock value of Keaton’s disciplinary record

in front of a jury. Resisting protective, personal feelings urging her

to tear this witness apart here and now, Morgan focused on the legal

grounds of her argument.

She was still torn about whether or not to fight this battle. She had

watched the tape at least a dozen times and its contents never changed.

Truth be told, she was fighting this battle because it was expected and

she didn’t want to show her hand to the prosecutor, who was trained to

expect the expected. Morgan reflected if she were prosecuting this case,

she would be tempted to forego admitting the defendant’s statement

into evidence—a move designed to force him to take the stand and give

his side of the story. As she turned the thought over in her mind, she

shot a look across the room, sizing up her competition.

Valerie Gibson was young, trim, and blond. She looked like so

many of her fellow female prosecutors, Morgan had given up trying to

identify her in the hallways of the courthouse. Probably a graduate of

a local school with good, but not great grades, she was either zealously

committed to the idea of putting away bad guys or viewed this job as

a stepping stone to private practice. In any event, her age meant she

had little real-life experience and though she had probably prosecuted

dozens of DWIs and petty thefts, it was unlikely she had tried many

violent crimes, especially not murder. Remembering her first big case,

Morgan speculated Valerie was either excited beyond belief or scared

out of her mind at the prospect of trying this high-profile case.

Morgan found it interesting that after all Lester and Teddy Burke’s

comments to the media about the death of their dear Camille, the district

attorney had not found it necessary to assign this important trial to one

of their more seasoned prosecutors. Though the elected DA rarely tried

cases himself, he would normally assign a sensitive case like this to

one of the several super chiefs who oversaw the prosecutors in the

trenches. Morgan scratched a note on a Post-it to remind her to ask

Ford some pointed questions. He was in tune with courthouse gossip

and if he didn’t know the answer, he could usually be counted on to

have a source.

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Moments later Judge Thompson doddered through the door behind

the bench and arranged himself in his seat.

“Counsel, are you ready to proceed?”

Gibson half stood. “The State is ready, your honor.”

Morgan, Dex, and Luis rose as one and Morgan announced,

“Morgan Bradley and Dex Gallagher for Mr. Chavez. We’re ready as

well.”

Judge Thompson leaned across the bench and pulled his glasses

down. “Why, Morgan Bradley, I haven’t seen you in years. I’m told

you’re teaching at the university.”

Morgan nodded. She was used to be recognized and remembered.

“Yes, Your Honor, I am. Mr. Gallagher is one of my students. He, along

with a few others, will be working with Mr. Rupley and myself on this

case.”

“What a nice surprise. Well, you be sure and tell your father hello

for me. I haven’t seen him in a while. I suppose he’s making the most

of his retirement.” Morgan smiled as she realized it was her father, the

retired judge, who was being remembered, not her.

Judge Thompson’s tone became more formal as he discussed the

preliminary issues to be resolved. Both sides agreed the trial would

likely take a week and the judge set the trial date for two weeks out.

Then he addressed the prosecutor. “Ms. Gibson, do you have your

witnesses ready for the motion to suppress?” When she responded in

the affirmative, he instructed her to proceed. Even though Morgan had

filed the motion, the burden of proof was on the prosecution to show

that Luis’s constitutional rights had not been violated by the way his

statement was obtained. The remedy, if his rights were violated, was to

throw out that piece of evidence.

Gibson called Skye to the stand and asked her a rote series of

questions about how Luis came to be in custody and the procedural

steps she took before she started questioning him. As she watched her

adversary questioning Detective Keaton, Morgan realized how excited

she was to be back in the courtroom. The hum of anticipation vibrated

to a steady pitch as she waited impatiently for Gibson to finish laying

a foundation for the video. Yes, teaching was gratifying, but the well

of the courtroom was where she belonged, using the skills she merely

simulated in the classroom.

“Judge, I have the video cued up if you’d like to watch it now.”

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Judge Thompson inclined his head toward the defense table,

offering Morgan the opportunity to object. She stood.

“Judge, we have no objection to you watching the tape at this

time. In chambers.” She didn’t want the gawking public to see a tape

she was trying to suppress.

The prosecutor started to voice her own objection, but her trial

partner grabbed her by the arm and whispered a word of advice. Half

standing, she called out to the bench. “The state has no objection to a

recess to allow the court time to view the tape.”

Morgan stood again. “I’m sure Ms. Gibson would like the court to

have the benefit of all the information at its disposal, so I want to make

sure the tape is cued to the very beginning—from the moment Mr.

Chavez is placed in the interrogation room.” Instinctually, she knew the

prosecutor would have started the tape, for the judge’s viewing, where

the actual questioning began, ignoring the full thirty minutes where

Luis sat gulping down food and otherwise looking furtive.

“Ms. Gibson, how long is this tape?” The judge’s tone conveyed

his feelings about how long he thought it should be.

The young prosecutor equivocated. “Judge, I’m not entirely sure

of the length. I imagine it’s under an hour.”

Morgan interjected in a helpful tone. “Actually, Judge, the tape is

ninety-eight minutes.” She knew the information would be like a burr

under a saddle. Ford had told her Judge Thompson was not a patient

man. He preferred counsel resolve issues among themselves so he

would not have to engage in any pesky legal analysis. Rarely did cases

come back on appeal when the lawyers had worked out all the issues by

themselves. No way was he going to be happy about having to watch

a movie-length tape laced with legal pitfalls and then have to render

a judgment about its admissibility. Hell, at his age he might not even

be able to stay awake that long. She could hear the whirring sound of

the prosecutor unraveling in the silence. Glancing over, she could see

Valerie Gibson engaged in a barely whispered exchange with her trial

partner. Morgan waited.

“Your honor, may we approach?”

The judge looked around, his tiny allotment of patience tapped

out. “Ms. Gibson, there’s no jury present. What is it you want?”

“Sorry, Judge. I was hoping we might have a short moment to

confer with opposing counsel.”

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“If it will save the Court valuable time,” he delivered a pointed

look, “you may have ten minutes. Detective, you may step down.”

Skye stood and started to walk through the well of the courtroom.

She stood before the rail, ostensibly to wait for further instruction

from Gibson, but her eyes searched the gallery. Morgan knew without

looking in the direction of Skye’s gaze she was searching for Parker.

Preparation for this hearing meant Morgan hadn’t had an opportunity

to share more than meaningful glances with Parker since their night

of mutual disclosure. Though Parker hadn’t included personal details

about Skye in the tale of her separation from the force, Morgan was

certain Skye’s betrayal extended beyond a dispute between fellow

officers. She had no doubt these women had been lovers. The sparks

their encounters ignited were searing and deeply personal. And Parker’s

expression when she spoke of Skye contained more hurt than would be

left by a professional betrayal alone. Masking her own mixed feelings

of jealousy and anger, she forced her features into a relaxed expression

and leaned back in her chair, waiting for the prosecutor to approach.

“Can we talk?”

Morgan smiled widely at the young woman. “Of course. Have a

seat.”“In my office.”

Morgan pointed at Mr. Chavez sitting next to her. “I’m pretty

sure whatever you have to say is going to impact my client. Don’t you

think he should hear it for himself?” She was deliberately goading the

prosecutor. Strategy discussions were rarely held in the presence of the

person to whom they mattered most. Morgan did a better job than most

making her clients feel they were part of the process. After all, it was

their freedom at stake. But once formal proceedings began, she was

like most lawyers, needing space from the raw emotion of the accused

in order to make the razor-sharp tactical decisions required to defend

them. She waited a beat and then shrugged. “Fine, I’ll hear what you

have to say. Mr. Chavez, I’ll be right back.” She stood, motioning to

the bailiff, who came over to take Mr. Chavez back into the holdover.

Seated in the DA workroom, Morgan crossed her legs and waited.

“You realize you don’t have good grounds to suppress this tape,

don’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Judge Thompson might not be too happy

when he sees how long your detective kept my client caged without

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explaining his rights, waiting for an opportunity to explain himself.

How she conveniently left off the waiver portion of the the Miranda

warning and clearly ignored his invocation of his right to counsel. Then

there’s the matter of how many times your detective feels the need to

mention his prior record on the tape.”

“If we redact those portions, will you withdraw your motion to

suppress the tape?”

Morgan forced herself to sound reluctant. “I’ll agree to hold

off on my motion. But I reserve the right to submit any issues about

its admissibility to the jury, and I want them to see the tape from the

beginning. You know, the part you didn’t think was important enough for

this judge. Furthermore, I want you to agree to instruct your witnesses

not to mention Mr. Chavez’s record in open court and to approach the

bench for a ruling before you ask any questions about his record. Do we

have a deal?” Morgan stuck out her hand.

The prosecutor shook her hand and told her trial partner to let

the judge know they wouldn’t need to finish the hearing. Morgan was

certain she felt like she had won this round. You keep thinking that

way, sweetie. You just got snookered. Morgan focused on maintaining

a neutral expression, hiding her relief that Luis would not need to take

the stand to tell his side of the story. The tape would do the trick, and

now that the prosecutor thought Morgan didn’t really want the tape in

evidence, there was no doubt she would play it for the jury.

v

Parker was itching to know what Morgan and the prosecutor were

talking about, almost as much as she was itching to talk to Morgan

about their conversation at Morgan’s hotel. Scotch hadn’t dimmed her

memory and she had a clear remembrance of the level of personal detail

she had shared. She had cursed herself repeatedly for taking off that

morning while Morgan was still asleep. Her hasty exit, and the fact they

had been too occupied with work on the case to talk about it since, left

her feeling frazzled. Dex’s revelation about Gerald’s crazy suspicions

and Kelsey’s diagnosis of her feelings were also weighing on her mind.

Parker wanted to tie up the loose ends and she needed to find a few

moments alone with Morgan to make that happen.

For now, she had to wait in the gallery. The judge allowed only

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two attorneys at a time to sit at the counsel table. Today Dex occupied

the second spot. Parker wondered how they would handle the issue of

who got to sit where at trial. Her experience at the public defender’s

office told her juries had mixed feelings about seeing a gaggle of

attorneys surrounding the defendant. On one hand the presence of so

many legal minds gave the appearance of power, but power doesn’t

always equal right. Sometimes the best approach when your client was

dressed in mismatched clothes gathered from the public defender’s suit

closet was to take advantage of the David and Goliath scenario and play

it for all it was worth. No crowd of expensive suit–wearing lawyers

sporting fancy watches and taking notes with Montblanc pens. Only

one attorney and one client facing the might of the State of Texas. She

imagined Morgan and Ford would sit at the table with Luis while she

and the other students would position themselves in the first row of

seats behind the railing—within spitting distance.

Parker watched Morgan and the DA make their way to the back

of the courtroom. With Morgan gone from the room, Parker felt the

slow burn of eyes focused her way. She knew, without looking up, the

eyes were gray, beautiful, and flame-throwing. She had once admired

Skye’s ferociousness. There was a time when their intensity was

evenly matched. Parker realized her own fervor was now tempered by

perspective. She feared Skye hadn’t learned a thing from witnessing

Parker’s ride on the rail out of the department. Instead, Skye clung to

the safety of believing if Parker had stood up for justice, she would still

be standing strong with her law enforcement brethren on the right side

of good versus evil. It was so easy to believe your cause was the right

one when you never had to see things from the opposite point of view.

I was no different. I thought the people we arrested were scum, and

defense attorneys no better, especially the ones like Morgan who gave

blow-by-blow accounts of decimating the prosecution on Court TV. Yet

here I am. Ready to defend this man accused of breaking the law with

the same zeal I used to enforce it. Skye’s first words summed up every

ounce of what Parker was feeling.

“You’ve changed.”

Parker shook her head, then stopped abruptly to acknowledge the

truth her former lover spoke. “Well, Skye, you’ve finally caught on.”

When Skye didn’t reply, Parker turned to go find Morgan, but she felt

a tug on her arm.

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“Have dinner with me.” Skye’s tone was not questioning.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Parker was sure she must be.

“You still eat, don’t you? We’ll go to Campasis, have some

wine.”

Parker couldn’t find enough words to express how much she didn’t

want to break bread with Skye. The search left her speechless.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.” Skye’s confidence was still alive and

well.Parker finally found the words she was looking for. “No. No way.

Not in a million years.”

“Why not?” Skye asked as if she could not imagine a single reason

Parker might turn her down.

Parker looked deep into Skye’s eyes, but she could not see beneath

the veneer of bravado Skye had in place. Ignoring Skye’s question, she

shrugged and turned away again. Within a second she felt the warm

whisper of Skye’s voice in her ear.

“Another time then. See you at trial.” Skye slipped away.

Parker looked around, but Morgan had yet to emerge from her

meeting with the prosecutor. Moments later, Parker nearly jumped out

of her skin at the sound of another voice over her shoulder.

“So, what do you think they’re talking about back there?”

Dex. Parker wondered if he overheard any part of her encounter

with Skye and prayed he had not. Things had been strained enough

between them since the scene at her house when he found out about

her fling with the professor. Because they’d been thrown into working

together, their relationship survived out of necessity. Parker missed

their camaraderie but feared she had lost the thing she wanted most

from Dex—his respect. Maybe he’ll come around, Parker hoped.

“Maybe they’re working out a plea. And then we can go back to

the way things were.” Parker intended every layer of meaning and she

silently willed Dex to hear her plea.

“Maybe they are. Frankly, I’d prefer we go to trial. I’m beginning

to appreciate seeing things from another perspective.” Dex feigned

nonchalance, but Parker knew him well enough to peel away the

indifference. Knowing he relied on her to maintain a stoic front, she

rewarded his overture of friendship with a simple nod.

“Good point. Let’s go make sure we get to trial.”

He pointed to the door. “Are you ready to go?”

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Parker glanced at the closed door of the DA workroom, then at her

watch. Even if she waited for Morgan, it was doubtful she would have

a chance to talk to her alone. The entire group was meeting for lunch in

twenty minutes. She decided to leave with Dex and catch Morgan alone

later. As they left the courtroom, Parker locked arms with Dex, grateful

they had reconnected.

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chapter Fourteen

The trial team gathered for lunch at Market Diner. Ford saved

them one of the only large tables in the back. Morgan resigned

herself to having to eat greasy diner food for the duration of the case

and gave a recap of the morning’s action against the noisy backdrop of

the lunch crowd. Gerald, who had not attended the hearing, had a ton

of questions, and his tone insinuated he didn’t think she knew what she

was doing.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t try harder to suppress Luis’s

statement. Especially after all the time and research that went into

preparing the motion.”

Morgan started to respond with an observation that Gerald couldn’t

take any credit for the hard work on the motion, but Parker and Dex both

started talking at once. Dex punched Parker in the shoulder and won the

right to deliver his response first. His tone was engaging, as if he was

trying to win the grumbling student over. “She made the prosecutor

think she didn’t want the tape in evidence, which means it’s definitely

coming in. And she reserved the right to challenge it again at trial.”

Gerald wasn’t buying it. “My father says you should never concede

a point to the other side.”

This time it was Ford who responded first, and he shut Gerald

down. Ford said, “I know your father well and I can assure you if he

knew the situation, he would have made the same decisions Morgan

did.” Ford’s tone made it clear he would not tolerate any more grousing

from Gerald.

Morgan smiled a look of appreciation. Ford had not been able to

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attend the pretrial hearing because of a conflict in another court, but he

embraced Morgan’s strategy as if they had planned it in advance.

With the issue of Luis’s statement resolved for the time being,

Morgan decided it was time to talk about the defense investigation.

Trial was two weeks away and the investigator assigned to work with

the public defenders was clearly pulled in too many different directions.

Ford was able to name three cases set for trial in the coming weeks the

investigator was working on, all of them “top priority.” Ford hadn’t been

able to get a solid answer on the status of the work on this particular

case and he expressed his concern to the group.

“I think we should file a motion asking Judge Thompson for money

to hire a private investigator,” Ford suggested. “We’ll just explain the

situation about the PD’s in-house investigator.”

Morgan agreed. “We don’t have any time to waste. We need to

start interviewing people we think are going to be on the State’s witness

list. We should draft the motion and take it to the judge today. Any

volunteers to write the motion?”

Dex, who had been exchanging whispered conversation with

Parker, was quick to answer. “I’ll do it.” Morgan caught him exchange

a conspiratorial look with Parker and wondered what was up. “Okay,

I’ll need it by three. Gerald, talk to Ford about some additional items

he wants to include in the trial notebooks, and, Parker, I’d like you

to prepare a list of proposed jury instructions.” Morgan let her gaze

linger on Parker. “I’ll be in touch soon to go over your first draft.”

She wondered if Parker realized she didn’t want to talk about jury

instructions, or evidence, or anything else related to this trial. She only

wanted to see Parker alone so they could reconcile the blazing passion

of their first encounters with the tender intimacy of their last night

together. She wanted to explore her feelings, figure out if the connection

between them was forged from stronger stuff than a physical craving.

Even as she had the thought, she decided it would be a mistake to delve

any deeper. It was obvious Parker was still smarting from the betrayal

she had suffered from her fellow officers, Skye in particular. She didn’t

need to be the subject of Morgan’s self-discovery, didn’t need to have

her feelings put at risk. Better they stick to the clearly defined roles of

teacher and student than to wade into murkier waters.

v

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Parker drove Dex back to the courthouse to retrieve his car. Once

they got in the car, Dex couldn’t wait to unveil his plan.

“I think you and I should do the investigation ourselves.”

Parker gave him a look that indicated she thought he had lost his

mind. “Morgan—” Seeing Dex’s raised eyebrows, she hastily said, “I

mean, Professor Bradley, will never go for it.” While Ford had insisted

the students call him by his first name, Morgan had not made a similar

offer.

“Why not?” Dex asked.

“I think she has a healthy dose of cynicism about law enforcement

types.”

“Most PIs are former cops. She has to know that.”

“I’m sure she does. We just might not be ‘former’ enough. Besides,

we’re technically the lawyers on the case. We can’t testify.” Parker

voiced what they both knew. A non-lawyer investigator was necessary,

especially for witness interviews. If a witness took the stand and said

something different than they stated in a previous interview, the person

who conducted the interview would be called to the stand to impeach

the witness’s credibility, which meant they were done in their role as

the attorney. A lawyer testifying in his or her own client’s case was

too confusing for juries and raised too many questions about bias and

motivation.

“I know, I know. But if we help with the investigation, then

we’ll be able to get it done more quickly. We can type up the witness

summaries and we’ll have firsthand accounts to pass along to Ford

and Professor Bradley.” Dex was excited about the prospect of doing

something other than research and writing. “Come on, this is right up

our alley. Especially yours.”

Parker had to admit the prospect was exciting. The one thing she

missed about her former career was the challenge of sifting through

pieces of information to solve the whodunit puzzle. Though the State

believed Luis was the only possible answer to the question of who, why

he had killed Camille Burke was still a missing piece. Parker couldn’t

help but think if they could find out why someone had wanted Camille

dead, the resulting picture might not be what everyone expected.

“All right. I’m in. But you have to do the asking. By yourself.

Do it this afternoon when you take the motion to Morgan.” Parker

gave up trying to remember to call her Professor Bradley with Dex,

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but she didn’t want to admit she didn’t want to risk seeing Morgan

outside the formal bounds of their teacher-student relationship. The

fast pace of trial preparation meant she hadn’t spent any time alone

with Morgan since she had poured out her soul in Morgan’s hotel room

the week before. In the context of preparing, she had seen her plenty

and on every occasion she heard Kelsey’s words, whispering truth.

She struggled to ignore her feelings, knowing there was no hope they

would be returned. Morgan was her teacher and had expressed clear

regret every time she had crossed the line of propriety. Parker figured

if Morgan felt something more than physical attraction, she would find

a way to disregard the boundaries, but obviously that was not the case.

Parker pondered whether she should let Morgan know about Gerald’s

accusation. If he decided to, he could try to make trouble for them

both. But it wasn’t as if Gerald had said anything directly to her. If she

told Morgan, she’d have to admit Dex knew something was going on

between them. She decided telling Morgan would merely heighten her

anxiety about the impropriety of their relationship, and that was the last

thing she wanted to do. Besides, it was pretty clear there wasn’t going

to be a relationship anyway, so Gerald’s supposed bombshell would

turn out to be a dud.

v

Hours later, Parker sat in her room pretending to study. Dex was

supposed to come by this evening and let Parker know where things

stood. Parker was finding it hard to be little more than an observer

in the case and hoped Ford and Morgan would allow them the more

active investigative role. Waiting to hear from Dex contributed to her

inability to focus, and when she heard the doorbell, she jumped at the

sound. Before she could make it to the hall, she heard Erin call out,

“I’ll get it.” She waited upstairs, knowing Erin would tell Dex to go

on up. Moments later, she looked up to see Erin in her doorway with a

furrowed brow.

“Hey, Parker, there’s someone here to see you. Not Dex.”

“Any idea who it is?” Parker asked.

“Not a clue and she wouldn’t tell me. She said she wanted to

surprise you.”

Parker smothered a grin. Of course, Erin hadn’t met Morgan so she

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wouldn’t have a clue who she was. Well, except for the fact Dex was

supposed to show up any moment, Morgan’s visit was a very pleasant

surprise. Though they had agreed on friendship, it seemed their chance

encounters were laced with something more. Each had stolen glances

at the other during class and trial preparation, and more than once their

surreptitious outreach happened simultaneously. When it did, the effect

was smoldering. Parker refused to let herself reflect on the meaning of

the physical force she felt every time she caught Morgan’s eyes locked

on her. For once in her life, she chose to revel in the feeling and ignore

the consequences. If they were nothing more than friends, then surely

these feelings would subside at some point. In the meantime, she felt

good, right, and warm. She wasn’t in the mood to let meaning steal

those feelings away.

Parker told Erin she would be right down, then glanced in the

mirror and ran her hands through her unruly hair. Straightening her

shirt and smoothing out the wrinkles in her pants, she smiled at herself

before she turned to head downstairs. She took the steps two at a time,

not caring if she looked like she was skipping with excitement. As she

reached the bottom of the staircase, she saw Skye Keaton waiting for

her in the foyer, balancing a pizza box on the fingers of her right hand.

Parker lurched to a stop.

“Skye! What the hell are you doing here?” Parker stayed on the

last step.

“Helluva greeting for someone with dinner on board.” Skye

smiled as if Parker’s visceral reaction had no effect. Shoving the pizza

box toward Parker, she said, “I brought your favorite.”

Parker was furious, but fought down her emotions. She had no

desire to let Skye see she could still have such a strong impact on her.

Coupled with her anger was piercing disappointment at seeing Skye

instead of Morgan. Imagining Morgan and then seeing Skye instead left

her reeling with feelings she put aside to examine later. She struggled

for an even tone. “Skye, you don’t know me well enough to know what

my favorite anything is. Now, take yourself and your pizza and leave.”

“I see you’re going to need a little more time to come around.”

Skye spoke as if Parker had merely said, “I’m in the middle of

something, can you come back later?” Setting the pizza box on a table

in the entryway, Skye leaned toward Parker and hugged her. “I’ll check

in with you later. After all, we’ll have lots of opportunities to see each

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other now since you’ve managed to get a gig working on my biggest

case.” Turning toward the door, she called over her shoulder, “Enjoy

the pizza!”

Parker watched her leave, unable to move from where she was

rooted on the stairs. Erin poked her head in the foyer and, seeing the

pizza box and Parker standing alone, asked, “Is everything okay?”

Parker started to answer, when the doorbell rang.

“Don’t answer.”

Erin stared at her, trying to decipher her strange behavior. “Parker,

what’s wrong?”

The doorbell rang again.

“Nothing. Don’t answer. She’ll go away.”

A fist pounded on the heavy wooden door and Erin looked back

and forth between the door and Parker, trying to decide what to do. A

voice yelling from the other side made the decision clear.

“Parker, open the door!” The voice was loud, male, and Dex’s.

Parker moved past Erin and opened the door herself.

“What took you so long? I know it’s a big house, but I swear I was

standing out here forever.” Spying the pizza box, he asked, “Was the

chick who just left the pizza delivery person? She was hot. What kind

did you get?”

Parker almost closed the door right in his face but instead resigned

herself to having to explain. “You dope. She wasn’t a pizza delivery

person. She was Skye Keaton. Great powers of observation you have.”

Ignoring the shocked look on his face, she said, “And I wager the pizza

is from Campasis, all the way, well done.” It was still her favorite

and of course Skye would remember. For all their differences, Parker

had to concede Skye was a stellar detective with amazing powers

of observation and ability to memorize detail, though Parker wasn’t

particularly impressed Skye remembered her favorite kind of pizza.

“Well, we may as well eat while you tell me what’s going on.”

He picked up the pizza box and waited for Parker to follow him to the

kitchen. Erin followed along and joined them at the table. Dex grabbed

a slice of pizza and nodded toward Parker, urging her to start talking.

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t know why she showed up here

tonight.” Parker didn’t feel like getting into the fact Skye had asked

her out this morning. “Asked” wasn’t the word for it anyway. She had

more like ordered Parker to go out with her. Her authoritarian ways

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had always been a source of contention in both their personal and

professional lives. Parker often told Skye she needed someone much

more pliant, someone who actually liked being bossed around. Skye’s

consistent reply had been that it wouldn’t be as much fun if the other

person gave in without a fight. Funny, Parker thought, for someone who

professed to like a good fight, Skye sure had caved when Parker asked

her to fight for what was right. It may be she just likes to fight. Parker

rolled the revelation around in her mind and decided the assessment

fit. Skye liked conflict, and she and Parker had been consumed with

it when they were together. The heat of their conflict inflamed both

passion and anger by turns, but at the end of the day, Parker decided she

craved the consistency of compromise.

She gave Erin an abbreviated explanation. “Skye used to be my

partner on the force. She’s the lead detective on the case we’re working

on now. I saw her this morning at the courthouse and she expressed

an interest in meeting. I said it wouldn’t be appropriate, but Skye

has her own ideas about what’s appropriate and what’s not. I sent her

packing.”

Dex interjected, “But not without getting her to leave the pizza—

smooth move, Parker.”

Erin sighed. “As usual, your life is way more exciting than mine.

I’m on my way over to Bob’s. Mind if I grab a few slices to take

with?”

After Erin left Dex casually finished off the pizza. Parker begged

off, her stomach shut down after the events of the day.

“So,” Dex asked, “are you going to tell me the real reason Skye

was here?”

“Pretty much what I told Erin. If Skye had some other reason for

coming here than getting under my skin, I don’t have a clue what it was.

I didn’t exactly invite her in for tea and conversation.”

“Weird.”

“Not if you know her. She probably wanted to pump me for

information on the defense. Skye’s scruples allow her lots of leeway

when she’s working on a case. Speaking of cases, what’s the word on

our little side project?”

Dex’s face lit up. “It’s a go. Professor Bradley’s hired an

investigator who works with Ray Ramirez’s firm. If the judge denies

our motion, Morgan will foot the bill herself. You and I will team up

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with him to interview witnesses and go through the rest of the evidence.

We have our first meeting tomorrow.”

“Piece of cake. Way to go!”

Dex shook his head. “It wasn’t as easy. Professor Bradley required

a lot of convincing. You were right. She has a bit of a hang-up about

having us former law enforcement types doing the investigating. Has

she never worked the other side?”

“No, she hasn’t. But remember, my friend, up until this semester, I

never would’ve pictured you working for the defense. Did it ever occur

to you her reservations might be because we’re students and this is a

high-profile murder case? She might be a little worried about trusting

us because of our lack of legal experience.”

Dex threw a pizza crust at her. “There you go. Sticking up for your

girlfriend. I knew this is how things would shake out.”

Parker’s mouth fell open and Dex quickly added, “Parker, I was

kidding.”

His expression was earnest and Parker rolled his words around in

her head. At first she wanted to beat him over the head with the pizza

box, but one word in particular gave her pause. Girlfriend. She repeated

it silently to herself. Despite her growing pessimism about any sort of

future with Morgan, she had to admit “girlfriend” had a nice ring.

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chapter FiFteen

Why, if it isn’t Parker Casey. How’re ya doing, girl?”

Jake Simons hadn’t changed one bit since the last time

Parker saw him. He was still the same grandfatherly man, dressed in a

tan poplin suit, smelling of tobacco and peppermint. Parker speculated

he must own at least half a dozen of the same suits, since she had never

seen him sporting any other outfit. His close-cropped hair was whiter

than she remembered. Parker had known Jake since she graduated from

the academy. A former cop himself, he had been a regular fixture at the

department, always scouting out leads and keeping up acquaintances

with those who had the power and resources to funnel information his

way. Parker had had only a few interactions with him and, frankly, she

was surprised he remembered her.

“I’m good, Jake, real good. You’ve met Dex?”

Jake nodded toward Dex. “Sure have. He filled me in on the

basic details. Ms. Bradley just called to say she was on her way. In the

meantime, why don’t we sort through all these papers and let’s see what

we have?”

The three settled around the oak table in the small conference

room at the Ramirez Law Firm. Ray Ramirez had generously donated

the space to the Chavez defense team for a war room. Already the room

was covered with flip charts and flow charts detailing strategy for the

upcoming trial. Empty food and drink containers filled the trash cans to

overflowing. Although the police detectives spent weeks investigating

Camille Burke’s death, the fruits of their labor had only recently been

released to the defense. The students on the team were appalled to

learn how late in the game they might receive this information. Morgan

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and Ford had explained they’d received some of the information even

sooner than the law required. The moment the case was set for trial, the

defense team filed discovery motions requesting copies of the evidence

against their client as well as any evidence in the possession of the State

favorable to Luis’s case. This latter type of evidence was called Brady

evidence in honor of the Supreme Court case requiring prosecutors to

hand exonerating information over to the defense. However, with a few

narrow exceptions, the State was not required to hand over most of the

evidence requested in a defendant’s discovery motion until moments

before they intended to use it. It was not uncommon in the courtroom

for crime scene photos to be tossed on the desk of opposing counsel

seconds before the prosecutor questioned the witness who had taken

the photos.

Some prosecutors believed the primary reason for sharing

evidence before trial was to advance plea negotiations while others held

a genuine belief the system worked better when the playing field was

leveled, at least to some extent, by sharing the evidence before the start

of trial. Gibson rode the fence. She provided more than she had to, but

later than many would have. Certainly, it had been clear once Morgan

entered the case, that plea deals were out of the question. Morgan had

a reputation as a trial lawyer for a reason. She wasn’t afraid to try the

tough cases and her appearance in a case usually meant a jury would

decide her client’s fate.

The group was reviewing the catalog of evidence in the trial

notebooks Gerald had prepared, when Morgan entered the room. She

caught Parker’s glance and winced at the well of hurt in her eyes.

Morgan willed herself not to respond with anything more than a

pleasant smile. She had made peace with her decision that no personal

contact was the only way for both of them to emerge unscarred through

the gauntlet of emotions laid down by their shared intimacy. Morgan’s

plan would sting now but, like ripping off a bandage, the pain would

be over quickly. Resigned to her plan, Morgan focused on the purpose

of the meeting.

“I’m going to get you started, but then I have to meet with Ford

to go over our plan for jury selection.” Morgan flipped through the

notebook in front of her. “I’d like you to focus on witnesses. We

don’t have the State’s witness list yet, but we can construct a likely

list from the individuals identified on the police report. I know we’ve

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talked about motive and how the State doesn’t have to prove Luis had

a motive to kill Camille, but juries want to know the ‘why.’ Chaos

isn’t comfortable, and for someone to kill a person for no reason at

all, especially when he hasn’t exhibited any violent tendencies in the

past, can provide exactly the kind of doubt we can argue is reasonable

enough to merit an acquittal.”

Dex chimed in. “So, you want us to find out if someone else had

a motive?”

“Precisely,” Morgan answered. “Start with the rest of the staff at

the Burke household. Most of them have already been interviewed by

the police. Luis says he was working on the plumbing when he heard

gunshots. Someone in the house must have seen him working. Then find

out who Camille’s friends are and interview them. We know virtually

nothing about her other than she was the only daughter in a fabulously

wealthy family. Contact as many people as you can and have summaries

of your interviews ready by the end of the week.”

“What about character witnesses?” Jake asked. “Would you like

us to hold off on that?”

“Go ahead and identify some, but you can wait on those interviews

till next week. We’ll use most of the character witnesses for the

punishment phase of the trial.” Morgan grinned. “I like to be prepared,

but I’m a little superstitious about preparing for a loss.

“I have to run. Any questions?” Seeing there were no questions,

Morgan made a hasty exit, avoiding any eye contact with Parker.

v

Parker watched Morgan’s retreat and pondered the coolness of

their recent interactions. She couldn’t put her finger on the problem.

She didn’t feel any animosity between them, but there was a distinct

formality that didn’t usually exist between people who had seen each

other naked. Parker realized she had her answer about what Morgan

wanted from her. The answer was sex, and she had gotten all she wanted

and was ready to move on. Fine, I can move on too. Saying it was the

easy part.

“Hey, Parker, wake up.” Dex snapped his fingers in her direction.

“Any ideas how to find out who Camille’s friends are?”

Parker shook off her malaise and brought her mind back to the

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task at hand. “Maybe we can get her transcript, talk to her teachers,

find out who else was enrolled in her classes.” She paused as a nugget

of information struggled its way into her consciousness. “Seems like I

talked to someone recently who knew her.” She drummed her fingers on

the table. “Oh yeah! My roommate, Erin. She was in her undergraduate

class. She might have some ideas.”

Dex grinned. “She’s cute. I’ll talk to her.”

“Settle down, playboy. She has a boyfriend.”

“For now.”

“Enough, you two.” Jake interrupted their friendly banter. “I’ll

get a subpoena for Camille’s transcript, but go ahead and talk to Erin.

She might have some leads on folks we can talk to who Camille knew

outside of school.”

Parker nodded agreement with his plan. As Jake and Dex started

a list of the known witnesses, she flipped through the pages of the

autopsy report. “Hey, Jake, is Doc Hudson still practicing? He must be

a hundred years old by now.”

Jake shook his head at the mention of the doddering pathologist.

“A hundred and ten, and yes, he’s still posing as a doctor. The only

redeeming fact is he’s only allowed to work on dead bodies.”

“I don’t see the toxicology report. Any idea where it might be?”

“Why would they have done a tox screen?” Dex asked. “Wasn’t

she found shot to death in her own bedroom at home?”

“Toxicology screens are usually standard requests on suspected

homicides.” Parker was puzzled but then she realized he probably didn’t

work many homicides as a DEA agent. “The object of the autopsy is to

rule out causes of death, not to merely accept the obvious. It’s a simple

test and it doesn’t require any extra effort beyond filling out the request

and sending off the samples. There’s no reason not to do one. Let’s put

it in our list of follow-up items.”

While Dex made a note, Jake placed the papers in front of him

to the side and said, “I’m going over to the jail later this afternoon to

see Luis. Do either of you have any insight about his version of what

happened?”

“He’s not much help. Like Professor Bradley said, Luis says he was

working on the plumbing in one of the downstairs hall bathrooms when

he heard what sounded like a gunshot. He went inside to investigate,

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heard sounds upstairs, and found Camille Burke lying in a pool of blood

with her face missing.”

“His prints are on the gun and his boot prints are all over the

room,” Jake observed.

“He picked up the gun and he must have gotten blood on his boots

when he was checking to see if she was still alive.”

Parker chimed in. “Does he have an explanation for why he ran

from the house?”

“Not a good one. He said Teddy Burke saw him holding the gun,

so he dropped it and took off. He ran because he was scared he would

be blamed.”

Jake shook his head. “Full of holes. How the hell are we going to

explain the fact he didn’t call the cops, that he hid out?”

“Well, he has his reasons, but we can’t use them. About eight years

ago, Luis was arrested with his nephew, Raul, who was driving a car

he had ‘borrowed.’ While investigating whether the car was stolen, the

cops found drugs in the car. Luis says he didn’t know the drugs were in

the car, but he took the fall for his nephew. Raul was enrolled in school

and would’ve lost his scholarship. Luis figured he didn’t have as much

to lose as Raul, so he took the heat. The public defender who handled

his case got him probation, but the prior can be used against him if he

were to testify. Luis says the cops treated him like shit before and he

was in no hurry to call them in on this occasion. He figured there was

no way they would believe he wasn’t involved.”

“So your fella has a bad habit of being in the wrong place at the

wrong time.”

Parker’s first reaction to Jake’s words was to vehemently defend

her client and ask Jake how the hell he could work for their side

when he was obviously already convinced of Luis’s guilt. She forced

herself to hear beyond the actual words and realized Jake’s cynicism

represented a major obstacle they would need to overcome with the

jury. It was absolutely necessary that they keep Luis’s record out of the

evidence, and the only way to ensure it would stay out was for him not

to testify. The pressure was on. They needed something to present in

Luis’s defense besides Luis himself, and she was committed to finding

that something.

“Jake, while you go see Luis, Dex and I will find out what we can

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about Camille’s friends. How about we meet up in the morning and

start interviewing whoever we’ve identified?”

Jake and Dex nodded their agreement.

While she helped Dex construct a list of the people they would

need to interview, Parker shuffled through the crime scene photos

again. The image of Camille’s body sprawled in the throes of a violent

death clawed at a memory of another lurid crime scene she would never

forget. When Dex wasn’t looking, she stuffed a copy of the autopsy

report and a few of the photos in her notebook. She told Dex she had

an errand to run before she could get started on their project. Her actual

plan was to do a little research about the missing toxicology screen. She

cringed inside at the semi-lie, but she wasn’t ready to explain why she

was so focused on the autopsy report since her instincts were probably

off.

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chapter sixteen

Parker paced the room. She hated this place. Necessity had

called her to this section of SWIFS, the Southwestern Institute

of Forensic Sciences, on too many occasions to count, and her insides

twisted up without fail whenever she walked through the door. No

amount of cold air and sterile solution could block out the heavy stink

of death. Every room in the building reeked and she knew when she left

she would carry the scent.

“Detective Casey?”

Parker was startled at the use of her former title. The woman

standing before her was wearing a white lab coat and sporting a

clipboard. She was younger than Parker expected her to be. And way

better looking. Ah, she thought, now I understand why Kelsey developed

this “professional” relationship.

“I’m Parker Casey. I assume you’re Dr. Williams.”

The woman extended her hand. “Lauren Williams. Dr. James said

you had some toxicology questions. If you’ll follow me to my office,

we can talk there.” She started off down the hall without waiting for a

reply. “This way, Detective.”

The use of the title jarred her still. Kelsey must have used it to

secure this meeting, banking on the pretense of authority to get Parker

in the door. Parker vowed to correct the misimpression the moment they

reached the privacy of Dr. Williams’s office. She wanted information,

but not at the expense of lying to get it. Parker considered contacting

one of the many doctors she knew in the pathology department from

her time on the force. When she’d run through the list of potential

contacts, she realized she had no idea how any one of them would

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react to hearing from her. She had cut herself off completely from the

department and, as a result, severed her connection to anyone she knew

in her professional capacity as a cop. If she had it to do over, she might

have figured out a way to preserve her valuable contacts, but she spent

all her energy in the weeks and months after she was fired trying to find

the energy to get out of bed. Networking for a future career seemed a

waste of time when she didn’t foresee a future at all.

The crime scene photos and the autopsy report raised more

questions than they answered. Parker had turned to Kelsey for

assistance filling in the blanks, and Kelsey had set up this appointment

with Dr. Williams. Parker pulled up a chair and settled in across from

Dr. Williams’s desk.

“Before we get started, I need you to know I’m not a detective. I

used to be, but I’m now a law student working on a case. A homicide.

Your office did the autopsy and I have some questions about it.”

Dr. Williams looked at the papers in Parker’s hand. “Did I do the

report?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“You should be talking to the doctor who did the report. Even if

I were to tell you something different, I would have a conflict if you

asked me to testify against one of my colleagues.”

“Who said anything about testifying?” Parker hedged. She was

here to get answers about procedure. She wasn’t asking her to reach a

different conclusion than Dr. Hudson, but she did want someone to say

a tox screen should have been done and list the reasons why. It would

be best if the testimony came from someone who knew the protocol

for this office and, if this doctor was willing to commit, Parker would

have Jake here with a subpoena in no time flat. Then the judge could

decide if the doctor’s conflict was more important than the truth. “I’m

not here to get you to give a different conclusion. I would like to ask

some questions about protocol. For my own edification.”

“Fair enough. Dr. James is a friend and I told her I would help.

What are your questions?”

Parker felt like she was cheating. She’d already gone over her

questions with Kelsey, who had done a rotation in pathology, and knew

what the answers should be. With Kelsey’s help and her own experience

watching dozens of autopsies performed, she was ready to poke holes

of reasonable doubt into the report prepared by Dr. Hudson. She laid

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the report and the crime scene photos in front of Dr. Williams and gave

her a moment to flip through the pages before posing her first question.

“When is it appropriate not to request a toxicology screen?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking. A tox screen is part of the

protocol on all autopsies. If we do an autopsy, we do a tox screen.”

“Are there any circumstances where you wouldn’t wait on the

results before assigning a cause of death?”

“Sure. If the cause of death was readily apparently from the

physical exam, there would be no need to wait on the results of the tox

screen.”

“Okay, so conversely, what, if anything, would cause you to wait?”

Dr. Williams picked up the crime scene photos and studied them

before answering. “Why do I think you already know the answer to the

question?” Dr. Williams smiled.

Parker returned the smile. “Because a good lawyer never asks a

question when she doesn’t already know the answer?” Leaning in, she

assumed her very best earnest expression. “Seriously, Doctor, I know

what I think the answer should be, but I want to know your opinion.

I think the cause of death determination should have been suspended

until the toxicology results were in. I think the findings in this report

were based on the obvious, but not the actual cause of death. Maybe

I’m wrong, but there’s only one way to find out.”

“As much as I’d love to play Nancy Drew with you, if a tox screen

wasn’t done, I can’t order one.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Parker challenged.

“If you were indeed a detective, you know this office has

procedures we are required to follow. First, this isn’t my case—you

should be talking to Dr. Hudson. Second, even if it were my case, I

don’t act at the direction of defense counsel. I work for the county.”

She examined the photos again. “Now, if the detective or prosecutor

assigned to the case asked for additional information, I’d be happy to

oblige.” Dr. Williams’s expression shouted what her words did not say

and Parker got the message loud and clear. The good doctor harbored

some measure of interest in learning if there was more to Camille

Burke’s death than the conclusory results contained in the “final”

version of the autopsy report. Yet she was making it clear Parker would

have to show her hand if she wanted to find the answers to her questions

about Camille Burke’s cause of death.

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Parker gathered her papers, thanked the doctor, and left the palace

of death stoked with purpose. She needed to talk to Morgan about their

options. She had enough experience to know the defense couldn’t order

the medical examiner to run tests. That would amount to asking them

to create evidence. The defense could certainly ask for their own expert

to run tests on the evidence in possession of the medical examiner, but

they would have to file a motion with the judge to obtain access. In

addition, because Luis was indigent, they would have to ask the judge

for money to hire their own expert to conduct the tests. If the defense

wanted tests, they would have to give the judge a damn good reason

why. Parker had a hunch, but she wasn’t confident her hunch would

meet the judge’s definition of good cause.

v

Aimee’s unexpected visit was a pleasant surprise, though Morgan

suspected it was hardly a coincidence. Yolanda escorted Aimee to

Morgan’s office offering some lame story about how she and Aimee

just had lunch. As it happened Aimee had an updated list of homes to

give Morgan, and Yolanda suggested she might be in her office.

Morgan had to admit she was relieved to be sifting through sheets

of home details rather than the gory evidence of Camille Burke’s demise,

even if the whole ruse of Aimee’s appearance was Yolanda trying to

play matchmaker. Fact was, she could do worse than Aimee. They had

spent a fair amount of time together over the past month looking at

houses. Morgan liked the way Aimee adjusted the search based on her

expressed likes and dislikes. She reasoned away the fact she didn’t feel

anything for her beyond surface-level attraction. There was no burning,

no yearning, to be in her presence, but Aimee did provide a pleasant

personal distraction from the stress of the murder case. And, Morgan

reflected, spending time with Aimee was completely appropriate.

Although they had a professional relationship, they were both adults

capable of distinguishing their roles based on circumstance. A nagging

inner voice queried whether she thought of Parker as an adult. Well, of

course she’s an adult, but our roles are different. I’m in the position of

deciding a part of her future and that places us in decidedly different

places. Even as Morgan had the thought, she questioned the rationale.

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Her feelings for Parker were vastly different than the shade of attraction

she felt for Aimee. She burned and yearned to feel a glance from Parker,

to run her hands through her wild hair, and to fall back into the strong

and gentle arms of the tough yet sensitive woman who sat in the third

row of her trial practice class.

Morgan shook off the sensory memory and focused on Aimee.

Aimee Howard was smart, beautiful, and interested. Those factors,

combined with the fact she didn’t make her feel feverish, probably meant

Aimee was the perfect choice for a distraction. Morgan was rocking

around several ideas for letting Aimee know she might be up for more

than a little house-hunting, when her office door swung open.

v

Parker didn’t have a clue what she would say to Morgan, but

she wanted to share her theory with the person she was sure would

appreciate it most. Parker toyed with the idea of calling Dex or Jake

first, but she ultimately decided in favor of impressing the teacher. Who

am I kidding, she thought, I want an excuse to see her. Alone.

Parker pushed open the door to Morgan’s office. “Morgan, you are

not going to believe—”

The blonde’s bright smile smashed Parker’s thoughts into little bits

and Parker was too thrown to pick up the pieces. All she could digest

was that a curvaceous beauty was comfortably sprawled along the edge

of Morgan’s desk and leaning too close to the object of Parker’s desire.

It was the blonde from the Lakeside. The one Morgan had been sharing

wine and laughs with weeks ago. Parker’s mind slowly opened to the

flood of facts pouring in. The beautiful woman who was breaking bread

with Morgan was here now, in her office, looking for all the world like

she owned the place. Giggles, whispers. Could this have been Morgan’s

ex? Maybe. There was no doubt there was something going on between

them. Must. Leave.

“Sorry, I should’ve knocked.” Parker left faster than the apology

fell from her lips, and the last words trailed behind her as she stalked

down the hallway.

v

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“Sensitive student?” Aimee asked after Parker’s abrupt departure.

“We’re working on a special project and my students are used to

ready access.” Morgan knew her response sounded lame the moment

it left her lips. She wanted to run after Parker but knew she couldn’t,

at least not without looking foolish. As she wondered what was behind

Parker’s strange reaction, she missed Aimee’s next words. It wasn’t

until Aimee’s parting words, “I’m looking forward to Friday night,”

that she realized she had made a date with Aimee.

v

Parker paced the tiny entryway to Skye’s duplex while she debated

if coming to this place was a smart decision. She acknowledged smart

choices weren’t her forte lately, and her silent admission was loud and

clear. She couldn’t help but think of Morgan. Every day, she listened

to her sharp and sure voice, witnessed her poise, and delighted in the

fire dancing in her eyes. Morgan Bradley was everything she could

ever want and nothing she could ever have. Seeing her every day was

painful. Seeing her today in the presence of a woman who so obviously

desired her was unbearable. Every time she saw Morgan she was

hungry for more. She had had countless encounters with women and

rarely repeated the exercise. Though Dallas was a big city, she hadn’t

been able to completely avoid seeing some of these one-night stands

again, but none had ever left her empty, wanting. Not like this.

Poor judgment be damned, she thought, and raised her hand to

ring the bell. Skye Keaton had been more than a one-night stand and

look how their relationship had ended. Skye, her partner, her lover, had

killed Parker’s ability to feel. Until now.

“Casey, I knew you’d come around. I don’t have any pizza to offer,

but you’re welcome to come in.” Skye was dressed in a wrinkled T-shirt

and cut-offs, her hair mussed, her eyes sleepy. She looked great.

“Hey, Skye, I’m not hungry, but I want to talk to you about

something important.” Parker looked around. Not a change in sight.

Like its resident, the apartment was exactly the same as she remembered.

Parker made her way to the living room and settled on the couch. Skye

watched her as if assessing the “something important” Parker was there

to discuss. Her eyes strayed to the folder Parker had placed on the

coffee table.

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“What’s in the folder?”

Parker decided she wasn’t ready to get into the reason for her

visit. Her past consisted of a host of memories, many of them shared

with Skye. Looking into her eyes, Parker felt long-dead feelings stir

in anguish. She needed to numb those feelings before she could talk

business.

“Do you have any beer?”

Skye didn’t blink at the non sequitur. She left the room, returning

moments later with two cold bottles. She pushed aside a random array

of junk mail, indicating an old magazine to serve as a coaster. Parker

downed half her beer and leaned back.

“Casey, I’m trying not to take personally your need to preface

whatever you have to talk to me about with alcohol. But if you wait

much longer to spit it out, I’m going to get the wrong idea.”

Parker tilted the bottle and fortified herself with another healthy

draft. She could sense that whatever her original reason for being here,

she was about to start down a path she hadn’t expected and the alcohol

was a necessary provision. “Skye, did you ever love me?”

Skye’s sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the room.

Parker watched her face but couldn’t read anything from Skye’s

expression. Gone was the cocky jeer of the Teflon-coated detective.

Parker saw fear replace shock and then settle into pain. Skye’s pain

cried out and Parker answered with her own. “Then why?”

The one-word question packed a punch and Skye looked worn

from the blow. “You know why. You made me choose. I only picked

what I thought you would’ve picked. No one was more surprised than

me when you decided to be all honorable and throw yourself on your

sword. I thought we had an understanding. We meant something to

each other, but the job meant more. I didn’t have any idea it wasn’t the

same for you. Not until you decided to walk the plank, all to protect the

reputation of a crazy pervert.”

“Don’t you think you’re simplifying things a bit? You lied.

You should’ve known me well enough to know I would never lie for

anything, not even the job, and I certainly would never ask you to lie

for me.”

“We’re different. I loved you in my way.” Skye contemplated her

beer bottle for a very long time and then met Parker’s eyes. “I still love

you, you know.”

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Parker shook her head. The revelation fizzled and her reply

referenced a past long gone. “I loved you too, Skye, but it was different.

It is different.”

“We don’t have to ‘love’ each other to have a good time. I seem

to remember some great times.” The edge softened into want and Skye

drew closer, clearly angling for a kiss. Parker stiffened at first, then

questioned her own hesitancy. What the hell? I’m here and she wants me.

Maybe this is all there is. Longing and gratification. Love is too fancy

a concept when all you need is to satisfy a craving. Her lips touched

Skye’s and her mind stopped whirring. She melted against her waiting

mouth and gave in to the embrace. Skye’s fingers sliding under her soft

cotton shirt left a trail of want in their path to her breasts. Breaths, deep

and quick, registered the passion. Passion she did not want to feel and

did not seek. The beer was not working. She was anything but numb.

Ignoring the sour taste of love’s memory, she met Skye’s kiss with equal

fervor, seeking new flavor to replace the taint of the past.

Locked in passion, they exchanged hungry grasps with lips and

hands. Parker’s head was spinning as she whipped through feelings she

didn’t recognize—torrid, hungry feelings. Skye was toxic and as she

drank her in, her mind spun in heady clouds that hid rational judgment.

No one else ever made her feel this way. Wait—a thought fought its way

forward. The way she felt with Morgan was like this. No, she insisted,

it was different. Her fuzzy head acknowledged she was right. It was

different. What she felt with Morgan was as consuming, but it was not

toxic. If she slept with Skye, she would feel empty afterward. Yet after

passion with Morgan, she was full. It was the desire to maintain the

satisfaction that kept her wanting more.

Parker placed a hand on Skye’s chest and eased her back. “Skye,

look at me.” Skye eased open hazy lids and cast a dreamy look at her.

“This isn’t why I came here tonight.”

“Plans change, Casey.”

“Not for me, they don’t.” Parker pulled back farther. “I’m sorry I

let things get out of hand.”

Skye adjusted herself into a more powerful seated position and

shrugged. “Things are nowhere near out of hand. I was having a good

time. I guess you don’t know how anymore.” She was petulant. This

Skye was as familiar to Parker as the cocky cop who showed no fear

in the streets or the courtroom. Parker knew she better act fast before

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It Should Be a Crime

Skye’s mood turned stormy, which was likely when she hadn’t gotten

her way. She reached for the folder on the coffee table. “Here, I want

you to look at something.”

As Skye flipped through the pages, she shook her head. “Casey,

we can’t talk about this.”

“Why not? The evidence is what the evidence is. Are you scared

I’m going to read your mind about the prosecution’s theory? Seriously,

Skye, like I don’t already know what Gibson thinks. Luis Chavez was

an ungrateful employee of the Burke family who lusted after their

prize daughter until he couldn’t stand it anymore. One fateful evening

he decided to take what wasn’t offered and when he was spurned, he

delivered a fateful blow. Am I close?”

“Okay, so you’ve got it all figured out. What do you want from

me?”

Parker shoved a couple of the crime scene photos under Skye’s

nose. “Take a good look at these and tell me you don’t see something

wrong.”

Skye barely glanced at the photos before replying. “You’re not

kidding. Camille Burke’s deader than a doornail.”

“You always were the sensitive type.”

“Don’t get all self-righteous on me, Casey. You sure picked the

wrong side of the law to show you care about innocent victims.”

Parker shook the photos. “Skye, don’t get off track here. Take a

close look and tell me what you see.”

Skye focused on the photos. Camille Burke was in the grip of

death, a pool of blood fanned out from her head. The medical examiner

estimated the time of death to have occurred within a couple of hours

of the police’s arrival, not surprising since Teddy Burke made the 911

call from the house moments after he heard shots fired. Camille Burke

had been shot in the face at close range. The result was a pulped-up

wreckage of brains and blood. No eyes, no nose, no mouth. Camille

wouldn’t need the senses those parts provided anymore. The shooter

made sure. No matter how many times Parker looked at photos of the

mangled, lifeless victims of murder, she would never stop feeling pain.

She took small pleasure from the grimace that crossed Skye’s face. It

was nice to know she hadn’t become completely desensitized.

“Give me a clue, Parker. What am I supposed to be looking for

beyond the obvious?”

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“Look at her arms, legs, her hands.” Parker gestured at the lifeless

form of Camille Burke. Her limbs were contorted, her hands frozen into

fists, clutching only air. “The ME noted rigor at the scene. When was

the last time you saw a two-hour-old corpse in full rigor?”

“Maybe he made a typo.”

“Give me a break, Skye. I know you well enough to know you’ve

reviewed the autopsy report already and you probably observed the

exam. If you thought there was a mistake, you would have made sure

it was corrected. The photos leave no doubt. She was in rigor probably

before you even got to the scene.”

“So what?”

“So, maybe she didn’t die from the gunshot wound.”

Skye snorted. “You’ve lost your mind.” She shoved one of the

photos at Parker. “Look at her face!”

“Skye, look at the rest of her! She’s balled up like someone

shocked her with a cattle prod. Have you ever seen a gunshot victim

twisted up that way?”

Skye didn’t reply, but she appeared unable to look away from

the gruesome corpse in the photo. Parker read her silence as a tacit

invitation to continue. “I have an idea about what would have caused

what you’re seeing there.”

“You do, huh?”

“Poison. Strychnine. It has that effect on the body, causes severe

convulsions, quick onset of rigor. Dr. Hudson should have caught the

signs and ordered a tox screen. Hell, he should have ordered a tox

screen no matter what.”

“Gimme a break. Why waste the taxpayer’s money? Her fucking

head was blown off. Even if you’re right, it doesn’t matter.”

Parker looked hard at her. Though it had been several years

since they worked side by side, she could tell the difference between

confident conclusions and plain old bluster. This was bluster and Parker

was determined to get beneath it. “Humor me, Skye. You don’t want

the defense to try to drum up reasonable doubt. Order a tox screen,

then decide for yourself if the results make a difference in how you

see the case.” When Skye didn’t immediately respond, Parker pushed

a hair more. “If you don’t want to piss off Hudson, get Dr. Williams

to do it. I think she’s actually interested in finding out what happened.

• 180 •

It Should Be a Crime

Frankly, I thought you’d be concerned about anything that casts a shade

of reasonable doubt all over your case.”

It took less than a second for Parker to realize she had said too

much. Skye went ballistic. “Dr. Williams, huh? What the hell does she

know about this case?” Skye pressed on. “Did you talk to her behind

my back?”

Years apart hadn’t changed a thing. Skye knew how to press her

buttons. “Behind your back? Since when are all county employees

subject to your bidding? I have every right to talk to whoever I want.

In fact, I have a duty to do whatever it takes to zealously represent my

client.”

“Your client? Your client is a murderer. He deserves nothing less

than to rot in prison for the rest of his hopefully very long life. Don’t

act all self-righteous about your duty. I have a duty too—to protect

the citizens of Dallas County, and before you dis it, you might want to

remember it wasn’t so long ago you took an oath to do the same.”

Parker bit back the sharp retort hovering on her lips. Would there

ever be a time she and Skye could talk about things that mattered

without battling? You didn’t fight when you were talking about love.

Parker shook away the thought and focused on the topic of the moment.

She knew Skye well enough to know once she was this worked up,

she would only get more agitated if Parker persisted. Holding up a

hand, Parker gave in. “I hear you. Let’s forget I asked.” Noting Skye’s

surprised look, she realized Skye fully expected her to put up more of

a fight. “I have a lot to do, so I’m going to head out. Thanks for talking

to me.” Parker left, smug with the knowledge Skye wasn’t getting the

battle she was armed to fight.

• 181 •

• 182 •

It Should Be a Crime

chapter seventeen

Is this a date or did you feel obligated to go out with me because

I’m the best realtor in town and you’re desperate to find a

house?”

Morgan stopped fiddling with her salad and looked solidly into

Aimee’s questioning eyes. “Honestly?” She waited for Aimee’s nod. “I

don’t know.”

“I get the impression you’re distracted.”

Morgan reached for words to express how she was feeling, a task

made difficult by the fact she didn’t know what she was feeling. “It’s

this case we’re working on,” Morgan lied. “It’s complicated and all-

consuming.” She struggled to deliver the statement without betraying

its untruth.

“Uh-huh.” Aimee’s tone conveyed clear disbelief.

“And I have some personal things going on right now.” Morgan’s

voice trailed off.

“At the risk of prying, Yolanda told me the reason you’re in the

market for a house is because you recently broke it off with a longtime

partner.”

Had she broken it off, or had things between her and Tina merely

broken? Once she might have been annoyed with Yolanda for sharing

such personal information, but tonight she was actually relieved since it

gave her the perfect out. Try as she might, she wasn’t up for dating, and

as appealing as Aimee might be, she wasn’t… Morgan quit the thought

with full knowledge she planned to insert Parker’s name.

“It’s true I recently went through a civil, but nonetheless nasty

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breakup.” Morgan declined to add more, thinking it was safer to let

Aimee fill in the blanks.

“Too bad. You’re stunning, and smart too. I was hoping you were

available.”

Morgan laughed at her frank assessment of the situation. She liked

Aimee Howard. She was a competent professional and cute and funny to

boot. But even pushing aside the allure of the handsome Parker Casey,

she could envision only friendship with Aimee. “Sorry to disappoint. I

could use a friend, though.”

Aimee sighed dramatically and grabbed the bread basket. “Friend

it is. Pass the butter. Now that I’m no longer trying to impress you, I

may as well eat what I please.”

v

“She’s a great catch.”

Morgan hid her surprise at seeing Yolanda standing in the hall

outside her office. She had returned to the law school after her date

with Aimee and didn’t think anyone else was in the building “She is. If

you’re fishing.”

Continuing the metaphor, Yolanda tossed back a line. “Or

depending on what you’re fishing for. You don’t have to marry her, for

crying out loud, but you could at least have a good time. You’re back

too early to have had a good time.”

“Spoken like a true old married lady.”

“I am not a lady. Please, allow me to live vicariously through you.

Now that you’re single, you’re bound to have a ton of great adventures

and I want to hear about every one. Don’t shoot me for speeding things

along.”

Morgan sighed and resigned herself to Yolanda’s good intentions.

“Tell me your own life isn’t so boring you waited here to find out about

my dinner.”

Yolanda’s features rearranged into a more serious expression.

“Actually, no. I need to talk to you about something and I wanted to get

it out of the way. Can we talk now?”

Morgan gestured Yolanda into her office. “Okay if we talk in

here?”

• 184 •

It Should Be a Crime

As Yolanda took a seat across from her desk, Morgan wondered if

the Burke family had gone over the dean’s head to try to keep Morgan

and her students from working on the case. She had told Yolanda about

the incident with Teddy the day after it happened. The day after she

and Parker downed a bottle of Scotch, she remembered. Yolanda told

Morgan not to worry about Teddy’s outburst. She had made it clear to

his father the university had to be free from monetary influences when it

came to student projects. She had told him she regretted this particular

project would have an impact on his daughter’s case, but their grief

did not give his son, Teddy, free rein to threaten one of her valuable

and popular professors. Morgan hadn’t heard from Teddy Burke since,

but she wondered if perhaps he found a sympathetic ear on the board

of regents. She was completely unprepared for the real reason behind

Yolanda’s late night visit.

“Are you romantically involved with Parker Casey?”

Morgan looked at the earnest expression on her face. Frantic

thoughts raced while she fought to hide a telling reaction. She made a

snap decision to deflect. “What in the world would give you that idea?”

She struggled not to wince at the insincerity of her response. Yolanda

was her friend. She had shared years of life’s ups and downs with her,

yet she couldn’t bring herself to answer the question directly. Should

she share her feelings or the reality of the situation? She had decided

nothing was going to develop between her and Parker, but she couldn’t

deny the steady pull of attraction whenever she thought about her. The

allure extended beyond the desire to touch. Her glimpse of Parker’s

vulnerable side tempted her to seek out the bigger picture of her heart

and soul, but she was firmly set against giving in to temptation. Aren’t

I?

Yolanda waited through the silence as if giving Morgan time to

reconsider her initial response. Morgan took the cue. “No. And yes.”

Noting Yolanda’s raised eyebrow, she pressed on. “Remember at the

beginning of the semester, you and I had brunch at La Duni?”

“Yes,” Yolanda replied, hesitantly.

“We talked about the first night I arrived back in Dallas? I went

out to surprise Tina and I was the one who got surprised?”

Yolanda nodded as she recalled their beginning of the semester

brunch. “Of course. Yes. I remember—Tina was all over some other

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woman right there in front of you.” She stopped as if waiting for Morgan

to say more, but Morgan merely widened her eyes, urging Yolanda

to remember more details. Realization dawned in shades. “Wait, I

remember! You met some hot woman, had mind-blowing sex, and

went home the next morning with nothing but a smile to commemorate

your night of wild abandon.” She smiled when Morgan confirmed her

recollection, then frowned. “What does your night of passion have to

do with my question?”

Morgan dove in. “The hot woman with whom I had mind-blowing

sex? Well, that would be Parker Casey.”

“Fuck.”

“Well said.”

“Seriously, Morgan. This isn’t good.”

“What was I supposed to do? It wasn’t like I knew who she

was.”

“Tell me this—have you had sex with Parker since you found out

she was one of your students?”

Silence. Morgan knew her lack of response spoke volumes and

she waited for Yolanda’s judgment.

“Shit.”

“Language. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss so much.”

“I’m upset. This is a grave situation and you don’t seem to be

taking it seriously.”

Morgan considered her assessment and decided Yolanda was

wrong. She did take the situation seriously. After all, wasn’t she the one

who had been so adamant with Parker about their inability to see each

other anymore, once they discovered their respective roles? Why was

she so resistant to let Yolanda see how seriously she considered these

circumstances? Well, for one thing, she wasn’t used to having a boss.

For years, Morgan ran her own show and was used to operating by her

own set of rules. Plus she and Parker were both adults. She knew her

assessment was shallow and Yolanda considered this a serious situation.

She held a position of authority over Parker and even though her strong

ethics enabled her to separate personal feelings from her professional

ones, the mere appearance of impropriety would be enough for someone

to question any grade she gave Parker, high or low.

“Morgan?”

• 186 •

It Should Be a Crime

“I heard you. I don’t know what to say without making you mad.

Maybe I’m not cut out for this teacher gig after all. All my life, my every

move has been calculated toward a specific end. I have one spontaneous

tryst and next thing you know, I’ve thrown off the balance of the

universe. If I were back in practice, this never would have happened.”

Even as she spoke the words, she cringed at her lapse of logic.

“What, you never would have slept with her?”

“I don’t know. All I know is things wouldn’t be so complicated if

I hadn’t.”

Yolanda looked long and hard at her, then said, “You haven’t acted

like things were complicated. I never would have known if someone

hadn’t said something.”

“Who?”

“Who what?”

Glaring, Morgan asked, “Who said something?”

“I can’t tell you who.” As Morgan’s face become heated with

anger, she held up a hand. “I can’t tell you, because I’m required to

keep anonymous the identity of anyone who reports a violation of the

honor code.” She continued deliberately as if willing Morgan to hear

beyond her words, “Because, if you knew the individual’s identity, you

might be inclined to retaliate against him,” she paused for a few beats,

“or her by taking some action like,” long pause again, “giving whoever

it is a bad grade.” Yolanda’s long, hard stare punctuated the obvious

meaning of her words.

Morgan turned through each phrase carefully and considered. So,

a male student in one of my classes ratted on me. He must be in the

Advanced Evidence class because it was the only place he would have

seen us together. He chose to report me, not Parker, so he must be mad

at me for some reason. The answer was crystal clear. She could see him

now, fuming over his assignment to make trial notebooks for the team,

while the others handled more substantive work. What in the hell could

he have witnessed and why was he so sure his story would be believed?

Like a flash, Morgan recalled the day she offered subtle comfort to

Parker in class. Gerald’s eyes had watched her, full of rancor.

Morgan stored away the knowledge that Gerald Lopez had it in for

her and directed her attention to dealing with Yolanda. “So, what are

you going to do about this?”

• 187 •

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“I guess it depends on what you’re going to do.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“A reasoned one.” Yolanda sighed. “I don’t know what to do, but

I have to figure out something. I have no doubt if I don’t deal with this,

I’ll have another formal complaint to deal with”

“And I’ve been the cause of all of them.” As Yolanda started

to protest, Morgan waved her off. “Seriously, Yo, it’s true. I don’t

mean to cause so many problems. I’m not cut out for the politics of

academia and, frankly, I don’t want to be. You better start looking for

my replacement.”

“Whoa, there. I’m not replacing you, but we do need to figure out

how to handle this. Go, do your trial, and when it’s over, we’ll figure

this out.”

“What about Parker? Are you going to talk to her about this?”

Morgan silently willed Yolanda to wait until after the trial. She didn’t

want her action to rob Parker of the ability to work on the case, and she

knew whatever Yolanda decided, she would be better equipped to deal

with the fallout if this case were behind her.

“I do need to talk to her and I intend to. This situation affects her

most of all.” Yolanda looked hard at Morgan, reading her plea. “It can

keep another week. Go get ready for trial.”

v

Morgan stewed in her office for another hour after Yolanda left.

She didn’t accomplish any real work, but did manage to work up quite

a storm of anger over the complications caused by Yolanda’s late-night

visit. She had half a mind to pack up her office and leave university

life behind. Then she could see whoever she wanted and everyone else

could be damned.

Did she want a relationship with Parker so badly she would pull

up roots here so soon after having found a place to settle? The question

sent her spinning. She could name a few things she knew she wanted,

but none of them answered the larger question about a relationship. She

wanted to crawl up next to Parker and trade whispered versions of their

most intimate secrets. She wanted to run her fingers through her thick,

unruly hair while listening to her share her favorite color, her favorite

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It Should Be a Crime

food, her favorite music. She wanted to gently slide her hands along the

buttons of Parker’s jeans and feel her passion on her fingers while they

shared their dreams and fears.

Strong knocks jerked Morgan from her thoughts. She scrambled

to compose her heated thoughts and croaked “Come in” toward her

office door.

“Burning the midnight oil?”

She was surprised to see Jim Spencer. Though their offices were

next door to each other, she’d been too busy over the last few weeks

to do more than give him a quick wave as they passed in the hall. Ever

since their outing at Rangers Ballpark, he made a point of stopping

by her office each week to renew his offer to help her with anything,

anything at all. While she appreciated his earnest desire to make her feel

at home, she had actually settled in on her own. Other than asking him

to judge the competition to determine who would work on the Chavez

trial team, she brushed off his regular offers of assistance. Seeing him

here, late at night, she felt a twinge of guilt at not having reciprocated

with some goodwill of her own.

“Actually, I might be merely burning out.” She waved him in.

“What in the world are you doing here so late on a Friday night?”

“Ruining my reputation as a Casanova, apparently.” He grinned.

“I had no idea anyone else was here. I could lie to you and say I ran by

here after a hot date, but frankly I was on a geeky exam-writing roll and

didn’t want to risk losing the evil genius mindset. Then I saw Yolanda

leaving your office and was overcome with curiosity as to what she

would be doing here so late on a Friday night. So I came over to see

if you have any juicy gossip you’d care to share. It is your turn, you

know.”

Morgan stared at his eager expression and pondered an appropriate

lie. She decided her efforts to dissemble weren’t worth the energy and

she plunged in before she could change her mind. “I have a hypothetical

question for you.”

“Go ahead.”

“Suppose a professor had an affair with one of her, or his, students.”

She stopped to gauge his initial reaction. He nodded, encouraging her

to continue. “Is there any way to resolve the situation without sending

the world crashing down around them?”

• 189 •

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“Pretty broad question, Professor,” Jim said, pointedly. “I assume

both parties are legally adults?” He waited for her nod. “And the student

is currently enrolled in the professor’s class?”

Morgan nodded again and added, “The affair started before they

ever even knew they would have a teacher-student relationship.”

Jim rubbed his chin. “Interesting. So they started seeing each other

when there was no professional benefit to be gained by either party.”

“Right.”

“And they kept seeing each other after they entered into the

professional relationship?”

Morgan squirmed a little at the word “seeing,” certain Jim assigned

more to its meaning than the casual sex she’d experienced so far with

Parker. She almost corrected him, but held back. Though she kept

referring to her encounters with Parker as casual, they were anything

but. Casual sex by definition wouldn’t have left her filled with such raw

and open need for more.

“And I assume part of the problem stems from the fact neither

wants to end the personal part of the relationship.”

She had no idea how Parker felt about their relationship or even if

Parker thought what they had constituted a relationship. As for herself,

she was no closer to an answer about what she wanted. She decided

since the question was supposed to be hypothetical, she may as well go

out on a limb. “Yes, they want a chance to see where the relationship

goes.”

“Pass/Fail.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pass/Fail. If both parties agree, then she, the student, can get a

pass/fail grade, thereby eliminating any suspicion her loving professor

gave her a good grade in class because she gets good grades outside

the classroom, if you know what I mean. It’s more of a big deal for the

student, since if she was on track for an excellent grade, her transcript

will suffer, but it’s better than having to take the whole class over or

have no credit for the class at all.”

Morgan rolled the thought over in her head. “Interesting

solution.”

“Sure it is. Of course, my advice is worth what it cost you.”

“Then I better pay you something to make it golden. I went to

dinner already, but I didn’t feel like eating. Are you hungry?”

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It Should Be a Crime

“Always.”

“Lead the way.” As she turned off the light to her office, Morgan

wondered how Parker would feel about Jim’s solution. Even as she had

the thought she felt silly. Parker had a lot at stake. She was on track

to graduate at the top of her class with an impeccable transcript full

of high marks. What in the world was she thinking to consider asking

Parker to take a simple “Pass” for six hours of grueling coursework

in her chosen field, all because Morgan wanted to see if they had a

chance at a relationship? Hell, she didn’t have a clue if Parker wanted

anything more than what they had already shared. Considering she

wasn’t sure herself, she had no business asking Parker to join her in

disclosing a relationship, especially in light of Parker’s past. Parker had

already suffered enormous loss as a result of telling the truth. Morgan

wasn’t going to ask her to risk a similar sacrifice. Doubt crawled in and

chilled her warm thoughts of happily ever after. No, better to finish the

trial and bow quietly out of this politically charged teaching gig. There

would still be enough time left in the semester for someone else to take

over and assign a real grade to the star student.

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chapter eighteen

We’ve talked to most of her friends and we keep hearing the

same thing. ‘Camille was a wonderful person, a kind and

gentle friend. We can’t imagine anyone who would want to hurt her.’”

Dex pushed aside his notes and rubbed his red eyes. None of them had

gotten much sleep in the last week and Parker and Dex, still carrying

a full class schedule, were both feeling the pain. They were gathered

in a conference room at the law school on Friday afternoon to begin a

weekend’s worth of last-ditch trial preparation.

“We have one more name: Leslie Hammond. She’s out of the

country, but she gets back Tuesday. I’ll hang out near her apartment and

try and catch her when she gets in from the airport,” Jake volunteered,

seemingly undaunted by the schedule they had all been keeping the last

week.

“Okay, but I don’t think she’ll have anything to add. Even

Camille’s acquaintances can’t imagine she would have any enemies.”

Parker looked toward the door of their makeshift war room, wondering

when Morgan and Ford would join them. The team had worked on

separate assignments during the past week, so she hadn’t seen much

of Morgan and when she had they had been in the company of others,

which meant they hadn’t spoken about the “incident.” Parker was

ambivalent. She wanted to square things with Morgan, but she wasn’t

sure what “square” meant in these circumstances. She was horribly

embarrassed that she had run like a chicken at the sight of Morgan with

another woman. Hell, they’d only been talking. For all she knew there

was nothing going on between them. Even as she finished the thought,

she knew she was deluding herself. The blonde had been drooling. And

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who wouldn’t? Morgan was a supreme catch. She was brilliant, tough,

sharp, and witty. As if those attributes weren’t enough to attract hordes

of admirers, she was beautiful as well. Parker resigned herself to the

fact she was only one of many admirers and even though she felt like

there was more of a connection, Morgan’s actions since the other night

put a chill on any such thoughts. Morgan had been polite but cool.

No more subtle touches and grabbed chances to be close. No more

glances held beyond the bounds of professional courtesy. All weekend

long, Morgan had directed more questions at Dex and Gerald and rarely

met Parker’s eyes. She seemed to be making a point to keep both a

physical and emotional boundary erected between them. It was as if

she had decided to adhere to her original resolution, shared on the park

bench the first day of classes, to keep their relationship completely

compartmentalized. Fine, Parker thought, I can compartmentalize too.

The only chinks in the boundary are a few rounds of sex and me spilling

my guts after too much alcohol. Consider it forgotten. But it wasn’t,

and she knew in a place deep inside that she had been more intimate

with Morgan than with any other person in her life.

v

“Sorry we’re late.” Morgan and Ford entered the room, and the

group launched into a discussion of what was left to do to prepare for

trial. Stealing a glance at Parker, Morgan fought to put her discussion

with Yolanda out of her head and concentrate on trial prep.

The one thing Morgan knew she couldn’t teach was the most

important thing of all. Flexibility. She remembered her first trial. Though

she was the lead attorney, a partner at the firm had sat second chair. She

wasn’t sure at the time if his presence was to provide assistance or

to take over when she got so nervous she threw up. She didn’t throw

up, but she did learn the limited value of the many nights she spent

carefully planning the clever cross-examination questions she would

ask and the insightful objections she would raise.

Months later, during her fifth trial, she reflected there was only so

much preparation you could do for the real thing. Though good defense

attorneys hired investigators and researched every angle before the big

day, there was no way to prepare for the stories witnesses concocted,

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often for the first time, while they were on the stand—this after having

taken an oath, hand raised high, to tell the truth, nothing but the truth,

so help me God. She was often tempted to ask the judge to make the

witness show his other hand so she could make sure fingers weren’t

crossed. After years of trying cases, she had come to the conclusion most

witnesses made shit up, and the shit they made up was so necessary to

preserving their view of the ways things should have happened or must

have happened that they would have gambled their lives on the truth of

their testimony.

She’d once tried a murder case where six witnesses testified,

consistently, the dead man was really and truly dead when they had

come upon him. But the victim’s father was the seventh witness and,

not privy to what the other witnesses revealed about the condition of

his son during their testimony, no sooner did he take his oath than he

blurted out a revelation: his son had made a dying declaration. With

his last breath, the poor boy confided to his father that Morgan’s client

shot him, point blank. Hell, even the prosecutor almost fell out of his

chair at the revelation. But he recovered nicely and asked the necessary

follow-up questions to ensure the grieving father’s revelation would

be admissible into evidence. Morgan would never know for certain

whether the prosecutor’s surprise at this astounding piece of evidence

was feigned. There was no doubt, however, of the effect it had on the

jury. They hung on the grieving father’s every word and attributed not

a whit of importance to the fact he had been interviewed by the police

four times and hadn’t mentioned the fact his son named his killer with

his last breath to either them or a single other soul before he offered

it up in open court. No amount of preparation could have equipped

Morgan to deal with his lies, and only years of experience enabled her

to continue the trial without letting anyone see she wanted to throw up

in the middle of the courtroom. Remembering the nauseated feeling as

if it were yesterday, Morgan knew her students would have to suffer

plenty of nausea on their own if they were going to develop into good

litigators.

As she glanced around the room, her gaze settled on Parker and

she realized she was spending more time thinking about her than she

was the facts of this case. Of all of her students, Parker was the one in

whose abilities she was most confident. She had already perfected the

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art of questioning witnesses, although her experiences had taken place

in less sterile environments than the courtroom. Equally impressive

was the fact she had testified in dozens of complicated cases over the

years. Though she had a lot to learn about lawyering, Parker came

equipped with the skills to learn fast and well. Once she graduated,

she would make a fantastic addition to whatever practice she chose to

join. Morgan vowed not to do anything to jeopardize Parker’s chances

at success.

They went around the room and offered their reports. Morgan

would pick the jury with Dex and Gerald taking notes. She added

Gerald to this task only after her talk with Yolanda and because she

felt she needed to throw her a bone. Ford and Morgan would split the

witnesses. Morgan reserved Detective Keaton for herself, ignoring

Parker’s raised eyebrows at this pronouncement. Dex and Parker would

be responsible for working with Jake to run down any new issues likely

to crop up during trial, as well as handling witnesses for the defense.

This last was a lean task since Luis had only one sister who lived in

the States and no one else had been convinced to step forward to speak

on his behalf. Jake was still working to convince at least some of the

other Burke family employees to vouch for the good character of the

handyman or tell what they might know about what he was actually

doing in the house that night, but the Burke influence easily extended

its reach to curb the willingness of their staff to speak in favor of the

man who allegedly brutalized their only daughter.

After they settled on their respective assignments, Morgan asked

if anyone had anything to report. Jake reported he had one more friend

of Camille’s to talk to and he was going to get in contact with her

when she returned to the United States, but he didn’t hold out much

hope the interview would yield any helpful evidence. Morgan was

about to adjourn the meeting when Parker cleared her throat. She had

avoided direct eye contact with her up until this point and barely broke

the barrier now. Waving a hand in Parker’s direction, she indicated she

should speak.

“I’ve been looking over the autopsy report and the crime scene

photos with a doctor friend of mine.” Parker hesitated. She had a theory

but nothing concrete to support it. And even if her theory was spot on,

she didn’t have a clue what it meant. Here they were, the weekend

before trial. Was this the time to be throwing a wrench in the works?

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Ignoring the internal questions, she spat out her conclusion before she

could censor it to death. “I think Camille Burke was poisoned.”

Gerald smirked and Ford coughed away a snort of laughter. Dex,

steadfastly loyal, maintained a neutral expression. But the reaction

Parker focused on was Morgan’s raised eyebrows and she met her eyes

straight on.

“You do, do you?” Morgan’s tone conveyed her disbelief.

Parker resisted the urge to bristle. Logic told her even the members

of her team would think her crazy poison theory didn’t have legs to

stand on. There wasn’t much to it anyway. She surmised Camille Burke

had been poisoned before she was shot in the face, but her theory

stopped there. She had no idea how or why and had not a clue as to

how this piece of the puzzle fit into their mission of defending Luis

Chavez. If Luis shot Camille, did it even matter whether or not she

had been poisoned? Was she already dead when she was shot? Parker

realized her theory raised more questions than answers, but there was

value in the uncertainty. The jury would be instructed to acquit Luis

if they had a reasonable doubt about his guilt. Any reasonable doubt.

Parker knew her theory that Camille Burke was poisoned did little

to answer the question of who killed her, but it certainly raised some

reasonable doubt. Why would a handyman with a gun take the time to

poison Camille before shooting her?

Parker channeled her thoughts into a simple answer. “Yes. And

if she was poisoned before she was shot, it raises some doubt as to the

identity of her killer or even as to whether she was already dead when

she was shot.” Her words were directed at Morgan and for the next few

moments it felt as if they were the only ones in the room.

“What support do you have for the proposition she was poisoned?”

Morgan’s question was direct and Parker felt like she was on the witness

stand.

“I was looking at the crime scene photos and realized something

seemed off. Teddy Burke told the cops he heard a gunshot and within

moments called nine-one-one. The first police unit arrived on the scene

within fifteen minutes. The autopsy report puts the time of death right

around the time of the nine-one-one call.”

Parker paused and Ford prompted her along. “Nothing out of the

ordinary there.”

“Look at the photos,” Parker responded. “These were taken by the

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crime scene investigator, about an hour after the first unit arrived on

the scene. Camille Burke is in full rigor.” Parker pointed at one of the

photographs. “No gunshot victim goes into rigor that fast.”

“How do you make the jump she was poisoned?” Ford asked.

“It’s a hunch. I worked a case once where an angry wife put a

heaping dose of strychnine in her husband’s morning coffee. She waited

till he finished convulsing and called for an ambulance. She told the

paramedics who found him dead under the kitchen table that he had a

history of heart disease and that he had probably suffered a heart attack.

The hospital doctor was suspicious about the condition of his body and

ordered a toxicology report. The guy, like Camille, was in full rigor

mortis, just an hour after he had died. The toxicology report showed

the presence of large amounts of strychnine, which causes the body to

experience such strong convulsions that the victim’s body contorts into

weird positions and rigor mortis sets in almost immediately after death.

That just doesn’t happen from a gunshot wound.”

Ford pressed. “What were the toxicology results?”

“No report was done.” Parker took a deep breath. Even as she

spoke, she sensed Morgan and the others doubted she had the expertise

necessary to draw the conclusion she had. She ended with a statement

designed to bolster her supposition. “When I discussed this information

with Dr. Williams, I detected a reaction from her. If this were her case,

she would’ve ordered a tox screen to see if she could confirm the poison

angle.” She instantly regretted her words.

Morgan came up out of her chair. “You discussed this with

who?”

“Dr. Williams. A medical examiner. Not the one who did the

autopsy. She said we would need to get the prosecutor or detective to

instruct her to run additional tests or obtain a court order.”

“Parker, what the hell were you thinking? She’s a county employee.

Anything you tell her, she’s going to run off and share with the

prosecutor. If you had a valid theory—big if—then we would bring in

an independent expert to determine if it was something worth following

up on. Now, even if you are onto something, the other side knows it and

can do whatever they think necessary to subvert our efforts. Typical

cop—not thinking things through.” Morgan was so angry, she didn’t

realize she had spoken the last thought out loud, but she could tell her

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words cut Parker to the core. She could see the pain in Parker’s eyes and

she fought dueling desires to comfort and to push away. She decided

the latter was the best path for both of them and she resisted the urge to

soften her blows. “I’m tempted to ask you to leave the team.”

Parker hid her hurt, but let her anger show full force. Staring

directly at Morgan, she pronounced, “No need. Consider me gone.”

Morgan felt foolish as she watched Parker stalk out of the room.

She hadn’t expected her to actually leave. She’d imagined they would

exchange more angry words but would then put their differences aside.

The last thing she wanted was for Parker to quit the team, especially

now that she had decided to forgo a chance at a relationship. If Parker

quit now, she wouldn’t get any credit for the long semester’s work.

Addressing the group, she suggested they take a break. The words were

no sooner out of her mouth than Jake and Dex shot out of the room.

Ford pulled up a chair to sit beside her and asked, “Do you want to talk

about what’s going on?”

“You mean my lack of temperament for this teaching job?”

Morgan knew what he meant and she wondered how many of the others

caught the undercurrent of the conflict between her and Parker. She

loved Ford like a brother, but she couldn’t get into the details now. She

needed every ounce of her composure for the battles of the week ahead.

Avoiding his eyes, she said, “I’m sorry for the outburst. I’m not used to

being ambushed by someone on my side. I know she was trying to help,

but her methods took me by surprise.”

Ford looked at her for an extended time as if divining her true

thoughts. Finally, he spoke and his words were layered with meaning.

“She’s not your average law student.”

v

Parker’s strides were long and carried her quickly down the hall.

She heard light footfalls behind her but ignored them in her haste to

get away.

“Parker, wait. I want to talk to you.”

Parker glanced back and saw Gerald trying to catch up to her.

What the hell was he doing? Of all the people I thought might try to get

me to come back, he’s the last candidate. Besides Morgan, she added.

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After all, she’s the one who wanted me to leave so badly she would

shame me in front of the rest of the group. Curiosity overtook her desire

to flee and she stopped.

“What is it, Gerald?” she snapped.

“Don’t be mad at me. I’m not the one who threw you off the

team.”

Parker tempered her tone. “Sorry. Look, I’m in a hurry to get out

of here. Is there something you want?”

“I was checking to see if you were all right.”

The gleam in his eyes told Parker right away he was lying.

Checking to see if I’m all right. Fat chance. More like he was gloating

at her distress. This guy isn’t even human. Parker wasn’t up for another

confrontation, though, and she decided it would be easier to play

along.“I’m fine. I just need to get out of here. Did you need something

else?” The question was dismissive. Parker wasn’t remotely prepared

for Gerald’s next words.

“I mean, it must hurt to have your lover betray you, especially in

front of so many others.”

Parker felt a slow sour curl in her belly and the taste of bile

rendered her speechless. Gerald took her silence as tacit permission to

continue his ramblings.

“She’s not all that. You could do so much better. I know it must

have been nice to be her favorite, considering you’re so focused on

beating everyone else out to graduate first in our class. I know you

would do anything to achieve your goals, but her? She’s washed up.

If she isn’t, then why is she here teaching? How lucky for you she’s a

man-hating dyke. Too bad she’s also a user. She used you for a good

time and gave you nothing in return. Bet you were counting on a much

bigger return on your investment. Well, you’ll be happy to know she

won’t be teaching here much longer, so I guess all your efforts were for

nothing.”

Roaring rage blacked out all other emotion. Parker grabbed

Gerald’s shirt and slammed him against the wall. She twisted the cloth

of his shirt and watched with satisfaction as red rose from his constricted

neck to his scared and darting eyes. She twisted harder, ignoring the

pull of strong hands on her shoulders.

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“Parker, for crying out loud, let him go.” It took both Dex and

Jake to pull her off the whimpering Gerald. She was in kill mode and

continued to fight against their grasp even as Gerald ran down the hall,

far away from her fury.

With Gerald gone, Parker directed her anger at the others. “Leave

me alone.”

Dex grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Why? So you can beat

the hell out of Gerald? What did he say to you?”

Parker struggled to regain her composure. She had no desire to

rehash what had transpired. More than anything she wanted to get away

from this place since it no longer held familiarity and comfort. Getting

involved with Morgan was the stupidest move she had ever made. She

had broken her rule of mixing work and pleasure, and the price she paid

was safety. Years of education, her stellar GPA, her class standing—all

were no longer safe because she traded a few grabs at lust for the prize

of scholarship and success. Apparently, the lessons she learned from

her lost career had been for nothing. All she wanted right now was to

be alone—her only sanctuary.

She faced him. “Dex, let me go. I swear I won’t go after him.”

He held her for several seconds longer as if unsure whether to

believe her assurances. Finally, he released his grasp. “Wanna talk

about what just happened?”

“No.” She started to say more but saw Jake standing patiently

behind Dex. “Not right now.”

“Forget about him. Come work out with me.”

“I don’t have the energy.” Parker knew Dex was trying to distract

her from the swirl of thoughts and maybe he was right. A brutal hour of

weightlifting might be exactly what she needed. Trade one kind of pain

for another. She was torn, but her desire to be alone and safe won out.

“All I want to do right now is leave here.” Seeing the hurt look in Dex’s

eyes, she tossed out a compromise. “Let’s talk later. Call me.”

He nodded and she almost felt bad. She knew she wouldn’t answer

when he called. She was already erecting walls and couldn’t risk her

safety by allowing anyone in. She would say whatever was necessary

to leave in peace and begin her task.

v

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Parker heard the doorbell and ignored it. She didn’t want to see or

talk to anyone. The doorbell kept up its insistent ringing and she willed

her mind to another place. Finally, she heard the front door open and

the ringing stopped. The sound of a woman’s insistent voice roused her

from her stupor.

“I need to talk to Parker. Now.”

Kelsey’s reply was forceful. “Look, Detective. Unless you have

a warrant, you don’t have any right to push your way in here. Tell me

what you want and then I’ll decide if it’s worth bothering her.”

“Kelsey, I know you’re trying to protect her, but I’m only here

to help. I have some information Parker asked me to get. I think she’s

going to want to see it.”

“Go away, Skye. Don’t you think you’ve caused her enough pain

in one lifetime?”

Skye entreated again. “Please, Kelsey. I know Parker doesn’t want

to have anything to do with me, but I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t

important.”

Kelsey relented. “Come in, but wait down here. I’ll ask if she

wants to see you. If she doesn’t, I’ll need you to leave. Understood?”

As Parker listened to Kelsey climb the stairs, she wondered what

Skye was doing on her doorstep on a Sunday afternoon. Maybe it wasn’t

Sunday. Parker couldn’t really be sure. Kelsey didn’t knock before

she entered. The room was dimly lit, but Kelsey’s gasp told Parker

she’d been spotted. Parker looked over at the mirror and saw she was

dressed in the same clothes she’d worn home Friday night. Dark circles

surrounded her red-rimmed eyes. Her usually wavy hair hung limp and

lifeless. Kelsey sat on the arm of her chair and drew her close. Stroking

her head, she murmured endearing comforts. “Honey, whatever it is

you’re going to be okay. We’ve gotten through worse before, I’m sure

of it. Let it go, sweetheart, let it go.”

Parker leaned into Kelsey’s arms and tried to let go of the hurt,

the pain. She’d spent the last two days thinking, and her thoughts were

driving her further inward. She knew it wasn’t healthy. She knew action

had the greater power to heal, but she wasn’t ready to heal. She had

only enough energy to wallow in her pain, soak it in, and make sure the

memory of it was so ingrained in her being she could never allow it to

catch her by surprise again.

Kelsey held Parker for a long time before broaching the subject

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of Parker’s visitor. “Parker, Skye’s downstairs. She insists she needs to

see you.”

When the doorbell rang, Parker had half expected it to be Morgan.

She had refused to take any of Morgan’s many calls. Kelsey had finally

unplugged the phone. Parker told herself seeing Morgan was the last

thing she wanted, but she had to admit it wasn’t completely true. Even

so, Parker experienced relief that the woman who showed up on her

doorstep was Skye. Things have certainly changed.

“What does she want?”

“I don’t know. If you don’t want to see her, I’ll gladly send her

packing. She has a folder and said she has some information you

want.”

Parker had no doubt Kelsey could send Skye firmly on her way,

and normally, she would enjoy watching her loyal friend drive Skye

from the house. But her inner voice told her it would have taken a

complete submersion of pride for Skye to show up here again so soon

after being rejected. Parker’s curiosity won out.

“As much as I’d like to see you kick her ass, I want to know what’s

she’s got to show me more.” Parker glanced down at herself. “I’m pretty

ripe. Let me grab a quick shower and I’ll be right down.”

Kelsey smiled. “I’ll tell her you’ll be down when you’re damn

well ready.”

v

“Skye?”

“You look pretty ragged.”

Parker managed a grin. “You always know the perfect thing to

say.” Waving off a retort, she added, “Should’ve seen me thirty minutes

ago.” Pointing at the folder in Skye’s hand, she asked, “Kelsey said you

had something for me.”

“I do.” Skye shoved the folder toward Parker, but held tightly to

one end. “I haven’t shown this to anyone else.”

Parker read her entreaty and nodded solemnly. She opened the

folder and her eyes darted across the top of the first page inside.

Toxicology report for Camille Burke. She shot a glance at Skye, then

carried the folder into the living room, sank into a chair, and devoured

the report. Strychnine, extremely high levels present in the blood.

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Addendum to the full autopsy report concluding Camille Burke had

been poisoned prior to being shot. Probable cause of death—poison.

The new report was signed by Dr. Lauren Williams.

When Parker finished reading, she met Skye’s impatient eyes.

“Well, don’t you have anything to say?” Skye asked.

“How did you get her to do this?”

Skye grinned. “I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”

“Give me a break. I met Williams. She was impervious to my

charms.”

“Maybe you don’t have the right charms. I was on my best ‘gee,

I’m a hardworking cop who is seeking justice’ behavior. Women find

it hard to resist.”

“Not this woman. Don’t let Kelsey know you put the moves on the

good Dr. Williams. I’m pretty sure she has the hots for her.”

“Well, you know me. I got what I want, I’m on to the next.” Skye

cast her eyes down even as she delivered the flippant remark. Parker

knew her flip was all bluster. She knew how hard it must have been

for Skye to not only ask for, but to hand over the new report. Skye’s

Sunday delivery was a peace offering of sorts and she took it in the

spirit in which it was intended.

Parker asked, “Have you shown this to the prosecutor?”

“Not yet. I’m on my way to see her now.”

Proof positive Skye was intent on making up for the past. While

delivery of the toxicology report didn’t heal all wounds, it was definitely

a salve. Parker reached out a hand. “Peace?”

Skye grasped her firmly. “Peace.”

Parker held up the folder. “I wish I knew what this means.”

“You have until tomorrow to figure it out. And since I need to grab

something to eat before I have the energy to face the know-it-all Ms.

Gibson, you have a couple of hours’ head start.”

Parker shook her head as she watched her leave.

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chapter nineteen

Morgan stood with the rest of the attorneys and spectators

as sixty potential jurors filed into the room. The process

was slow as each juror handed a clipboard containing a completed

questionnaire to one of the bailiffs and another bailiff pointed out where

they should be seated. While Dex and Gerald scribbled notes as they

entered the room, Morgan concentrated on making eye contact with

each person who would be a judge of the facts of the case.

Though the process was called jury selection, it was actually jury

deselection. At the end of a couple of hours of questioning, each side

would strike six of these individuals from the pool of potential jurors for

reasons ranging from their answers to questions, to simple assessment

of their body language. In addition, each side could suggest potential

jurors be dismissed for cause—such as they couldn’t follow the law or

they couldn’t understand English. The key to figuring out who to strike

was to get them to talk, hence the name voir dire: “to speak the truth.”

As Morgan contemplated the individuals lining up in the aisles of

the courtroom, she thought, not for the first time, there would be little

truth telling during the next couple of hours. Some would consciously

lie to get out of jury service and some would lie, all the while believing

their words to be the rock-solid truth. This latter group would say they

respected the presumption of innocence and no, they wouldn’t hold

it against the defendant if he didn’t testify. Morgan was sure they

believed they could be impartial, but the truth was the defendant in any

case, having been arrested and indicted by a grand jury, faced an uphill

battle fighting a strong presumption of “why are we here if he didn’t do

something wrong?”

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The panel was seated and the judge began with simple questions:

who has a vacation planned this week, who doesn’t understand

English—asked in English, of course. Morgan projected a relaxed

appearance, but under the surface she was struggling to focus on the

task at hand: listening. Normally, Morgan’s attention was laser sharp,

but today she fought distraction and the primary source was the folder

tucked in her briefcase and the woman, standing in the back of the

room, who brought it to her early this morning.

v

Parker had dressed for court even though she had no intention

of participating in the proceedings. Her singular goal was to hand off

the folder to Jake and Dex and head out. She’d made a late-afternoon

appointment with Dean Ramirez and she intended to keep it. But from

the moment she reached the courthouse, her plans spun out of her

control. She had called Jake the night before and told him the gist of

the report, but now that she was here, Ford and Morgan wanted to hear

all the details for themselves. Parker felt the heat of Morgan’s attempts

to meet her eyes, but she avoided the temptation of reconnecting.

Facing the others, she recounted Skye’s eve-of-trial delivery. The guys

on the team expressed excitement at the various ways the information

could be used while Morgan quietly read the report for herself. Parker

watched her bowed head and wished they were alone. She wanted to

apologize for storming out of the prep session on Friday. She wanted

to know what Gerald had done and if Morgan was hurt because of it.

Come to think of it, where was the little bastard? She glanced around,

but he was nowhere to be found. As she turned back, she was struck by

the powerful impact of Morgan’s eyes boring into her own. They spoke

over each other.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” Parker felt Morgan’s hand on her arm and she registered

Dex and Jake had slipped away. She opened her mouth to say more, but

the sear of Morgan’s touch blocked out any professional comment she

could have made and the personal was, well, too personal. Flushed,

she broke eye contact and stepped back. “You should get in there.” She

nodded toward the courtroom doors. “And I should go.” She didn’t wait

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for a response, instead she walked down the wide hall of the courthouse.

She knew without looking back that Morgan was rooted in place.

Parker was riding the escalator to the first floor when she felt a

hand on her shoulder. Jake’s gravelly voice was unmistakable. “Where

you think you’re off to?”

“Air, Jake. I need some air.”

“I don’t blame you for not wanting to settle back in around here.”

Parker was startled by his frank assessment, but she realized she

shouldn’t be. Certainly, Jake had been privy to the gossip over her

departure from the force. Try as she might to put it behind her, fact was

the shade of the past would dance its shadows into her professional life

for the foreseeable future. “If only it were so simple, Jake.”

Jake’s hard yet gentle stare dared her to a different conclusion.

“Jake, I have some things I need to do.”

He didn’t relent. “But here I was counting on you to help me out.

We have a witness to go see. Leslie Hammond.”

“I thought she wasn’t back in town until later this week.”

“I got wind she blew back in town last night. Accounting for jet

lag, I figure she should be awake and moving around by now. Come on,

let’s make a trip to her house and see what she has to say.”

Parker looked at her watch. She had plenty of time before her

afternoon meeting. She could do this small task and feel like she hadn’t

abandoned the team altogether. “Fine. You’ll hate riding in my noisy

car, though, so you’re driving.”

“Fair enough.”

v

Camille’s friend Leslie had means, though you’d have to know

the neighborhood well to realize it. The small Tudor house was situated

on a postage stamp lot. Parker figured the house had no more than

two bedrooms, one bath, and a small detached garage, but the house’s

location, smack in the middle of the M Streets, meant it was valued at

close to a half million dollars. Pretty swank for a college student.

Jake eased his sedan into Hammond’s driveway, pulling up

close to the Porsche 911 nestled against the house. Parker followed

him to the door, intent on merely observing this interview. A tousled

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twentysomething male answered the door, steaming mug of coffee in

hand.

“Can I help you?”

“Maybe. We’re looking for Leslie Hammond?”

The affable young man nodded and replied, “I’m Leslie.”

Jake glanced at Parker and both attempted to mask their surprise.

The man in the doorway grinned. “Let me guess. You expected a nice

young lady to answer the door? No worries, it happens all the time. I

think my parents are the last holdouts on using old family names long

after they’ve gone out of style.”

Jake smiled. “Can we come in for a moment?”

“You’re not selling anything, are you?”

“No, we’re here about Camille Burke.”

Leslie’s face paled and he waved them in. Heading to a table in

the kitchen, he motioned for them to be seated. “I heard what happened.

Weeks after the fact. I’ve been in a remote area of Africa working on a

research project.” As he talked he ran his hand through his unruly blond

waves.

Parker was struck with a thought. Did Leslie return early so he

could be a witness for the prosecution? What would he have to say

that would help the case against Luis Chavez? “If you don’t mind my

asking, why did you come back early?”

If Leslie was puzzled at the fact Parker knew his schedule, he

didn’t show it. “I finished up ahead of schedule and frankly, I missed

having hot running water.”

Relieved, Parker said, “We’d like to ask you some questions about

Camille. But before we begin, I want to let you know we are working

with the team representing the person on trial for her death.”

“The handyman, right?” At their nod, he continued, “I don’t get

it. Camille was the sweetest person I had ever known. I have no idea

why he, or anyone, would want to kill her.” Leslie choked as he spoke

the last words and Parker watched him carefully, suddenly clear about

something.

“Leslie, were you in love with her?”

His expression was tinged with sadness, but he smiled nevertheless.

“Pretty obvious, huh? Yes, I loved her. I wanted to marry her and thought

she wanted me too. I was wrong.”

Parker leaned forward. “What happened?”

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“I don’t know. She broke it off with me the day before I left. She

was vague.”

Parker pushed. “Vague how?”

“She said the usual amorphous break-up lines. ‘It’s not you, it’s

me,’ ‘I need some space.’ You know.”

Parker nodded. Even though she carefully avoided relationships,

she had delivered similar phrases to keep from hurting another woman’s

feelings. But the lines she had spoken in the past had always been

true—it was her and she did need space. Her thoughts strayed unbidden

to Morgan and she couldn’t help but think space was the last thing

she wanted. How unlike her to crave closeness. Shaking herself, she

focused on the young man seated in front of her.

“Leslie, did you have any contact with Camille while you were

out of the country?”

“I didn’t speak with her at all. I didn’t speak to anyone at home.

Our location was so remote, I didn’t even receive mail. I did write to her,

but I have no way of knowing if she received my letters.” Leslie kept up

a strong front, but the crack in his voice betrayed his attempts to hide

his hurt. Camille Burke had broken his heart and he was still in love.

Now she was dead and he would never have an opportunity to win her

back. Parker felt tendrils of his pain wrap around her and squeeze. As

his heartache held her in its grasp, it became her own. What if she was

in love with Morgan? What if she lost the opportunity to explore her

feelings? A cynical voice inside told her it didn’t matter. Morgan clearly

needed nothing more than the physical encounters they had shared. The

curvaceous blonde salivating in her office was now fulfilling Morgan’s

needs. Parker’s questions battled her cynical conclusions. She needed

answers, but right now she needed to leave before she suffocated in the

reflection of her own anguish. Turning to Jake, she realized she had

monopolized the interview and gladly turned it back over to him.

“Jake, can you think of anything else?”

While Jake asked Leslie a few additional questions to round out

background information, Parker walked around the room. Mementos

of Leslie’s love were scattered around like wildflowers, coloring his

otherwise stark bachelor pad. Smiling for the camera, he and Camille

had embraced in a host of exotic locales, and their love was framed

and displayed for all to see. Parker tried to imagine a photo of her and

Morgan sporting leis and cuddling on the beach. Focus, Parker. She’s

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not interested in anything more than what we’ve already had. Especially

since what we already had has almost cost her job. Parker looked at her

watch. If they hurried, she still had time to make her meeting with Dean

Ramirez. Glancing once more at Leslie’s photographs, she mentally

noted if he was this upset about the breakup weeks later, he must have

been livid at the time.

Jake indicated he was finished and handed Leslie his card. Parker

begged off riding back to the courthouse, instead asking Jake to drop

her off on campus. All she wanted to do was see Morgan, but she had

to see to something else first.

v

“Ms. Bradley, I have some additional discovery for you.” Valerie

Gibson thrust an envelope forward. “These lab tests were delivered

today. Nothing of any consequence, but I wanted to make sure I

provided you with them prior to the start of evidence.”

Morgan looked at the envelope but didn’t reach for it. “I suppose

you missed the section of my discovery motion asking for Brady

material.” Morgan’s voice dripped sarcasm. The prosecutor knew she

had an obligation to turn over any exculpatory evidence, and ethics

should have compelled her to do so even if Morgan hadn’t specifically

asked.

“Who said there’s anything exculpatory here?” Gibson shook the

envelope.

“Not you, though you should have. Don’t you think the fact

Camille Burke was poisoned sheds some doubt on your theory my

client shot her dead?” Morgan watched for Gibson to register the fact

Morgan already knew the contents of the envelope. It didn’t take long

for the prosecutor’s face to redden, but she pushed away embarrassment

at being caught in a breach of ethics.

In a blatant display of denial, Gibson responded, “Obviously you

already knew about the poison, so you can’t claim your case has been

prejudiced by not having this report sooner. Frankly, I don’t think this

report makes a lick of difference to my case.”

Morgan faced her squarely. “You’re bluffing, and if you think any

of the twelve fine people we selected to serve won’t see through it, you

have severely underestimated both them and me.” With a pointed look

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at the envelope still in Gibson’s hand, she shook her head, turned, and

walked out of the courtroom. She would study the copy of the report

she already had. Skye Keaton was likely to be the prosecution’s first

witness and it would be much more fun to use the copy of the report

Skye herself had provided when she ripped into the credibility of the

State’s key witness.

Her intense concentration on the lineup of the next day distracted

her and she ran directly into Skye as she made her way out of the

courtroom.

“Ms. Bradley.”

“Detective.”

Morgan

snarled

her

response

to

Skye’s

acknowledgment.

“Did I do something to piss you off?”

Skye’s question caught Morgan off guard and she realized Skye

probably expected a different reception from her, especially since she

had provided the report casting doubt on the prosecution’s case. But for

once Morgan couldn’t compartmentalize her feelings. Skye had pierced

the heart of the woman whose heart Morgan wanted for her own. Anger

rose through her core and struggled to lash out. Skye had been privileged

to receive Parker’s most treasured feelings, yet she’d crushed them as

if they had no value. Morgan tallied the value of Parker’s intimacy

and trust and wished she could afford the price. Knowing neither she

nor Parker had the means to take the feelings they had any further, she

resented Skye all the more for throwing away her own opportunities.

Her resentment wrestled with the strong façade of self-control for which

she was famous, but the resentment battled forward.

“Yes, matter of fact, you did.”

“Mind telling what it was?” Skye’s expression was genuinely

puzzled.

“You hurt someone I care about.” Skye’s puzzled expression

remained and Morgan was sorry she had said anything. “Never mind.”

She pushed past the detective and started out of the room.

Skye grabbed her arm, but her touch was gentle. As Morgan faced

her, she saw the questioning lines on Skye’s face settle into a knowing

look. After all, there was only one person it could be. Skye’s response

was a whisper. “I’m sorry for what I did, but it was a long time ago.

She’s forgiven me.”

“She may have forgiven you, but she still bears the scars.” Morgan

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shook off Skye’s hand. She didn’t want to be having this conversation

with Skye for a multitude of reasons, including the fact she would be

skewering this witness on the stand first thing in the morning. If there

was anyone she should be talking to it was Parker. Parker, with her

sparkling charm in public, but guarded pain in private. Morgan wanted

to erase the hurt that haunted Parker and see the affection she felt

reflected in her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Morgan looked into Skye’s face, and noted her cocky demeanor

had been replaced with genuine angst. She nodded and walked out.

v

Parker answered the phone because she knew no one else was

home. If Kelsey or Erin had been there, she would have enlisted them

to screen her calls. Parker imagined Dex was calling to give her a blow-

by-blow of the first day of the trial and she knew him well enough to

know if he wasn’t able to reach her by phone, he would show up at

her door. She was torn about wanting to hear the details of the trial.

Dex would be gushing about Morgan’s prowess and justifiably so, but

she didn’t want to talk about Morgan. She had done enough talking

about her professor during her afternoon appointment with the dean,

and it had worn her out. She focused on making her voice sound sleepy,

hoping he would take the hint and keep the conversation short.

“Parker? You sound like you’ve been sleeping. Well, get up, girl.

We have things to do.”

It was Jake. Parker’s first reaction was to tell him she was off

the case and explain her work earlier in the day had been a freebie but

she was officially retired from the Chavez defense team. She started to

form the words, but curiosity forced a different response. “Gimme five

minutes. I’ll be out front.”

Parker waited on the porch, watching for the lights of Jake’s

car. She wondered at her eagerness to jump back into the case when

she’d spent the afternoon explaining to Dean Ramirez why she was

dropping the Advanced Evidence class. Her decision to drop the class

was calculated to protect Morgan, but she couldn’t deny the small

part of her that hoped removing their professional relationship might

open the door to something more. If nothing else, now that she was no

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longer one of Morgan’s students, she could work on the case without

jeopardizing Morgan’s career.

Jake’s car pulled into the driveway and Parker shrugged off the

lingering questions about her motivation and climbed into Jake’s sedan.

“Okay, Sherlock, where are we going?”

“Leslie Hammond got a letter in the mail and he wants to show it

to us.”

“A letter?”

“Yep. From Camille Burke.”

v

“Here it is.” Leslie’s hand shook as he passed the envelope to

Parker. Clearly he deemed her to be in charge of the investigation.

Parker took the envelope and carefully pulled a sheaf of pages from

it. Casting a gentle look at the tearful young man, she asked, “May I?”

He nodded and Parker began to read. Camille Burke’s last letter was

both gripping and horrific. Parker was caught between the desire to

race to the end and the urge to cram the gruesome story back into the

envelope. When she finished, she handed the pages to Jake and focused

her attention on Leslie. “When did you receive this?”

“It’s postmarked the day she died. It was in a pile of mail being

held at the post office until I returned.”

“Before you got this, did you have any idea?”

“No. I knew she was troubled, haunted even.” His voice choked.

“She was breaking up with me, for God’s sake. I thought her distress

was all about me, wanting to end things with me, wanting to be rid of

me. I had no idea, none, she was in her own personal hell. I never would

have left if I had known.” He wiped away tears. “I loved her.”

She was sure he did and equally sure it would be a long time

before he recovered from the knowledge the woman he had loved had

been systematically victimized for years by her own brother. She knew

Teddy Burke was a talented sociopath, but the juxtaposition of his

public persona with the tale of horrific abuse he heaped on the sibling

he purported to love would repulse even the most jaded. Parker, who

had felt the raw pain of too many sickening revelations during her

career as a cop, was no less sensitive from her experience, but necessity

demanded she stuff her feelings. They had work to do.

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“We need to let the police know. I’ll tell them.” Indicating the

letter, she asked, “May I take this?” Leslie nodded.

v

The rest of the night was a blur. She directed Jake to the Palomar

and led him to the door of Morgan’s room. She ignored Morgan’s

surprised look to find them in the hall of her hotel at the late hour. Parker

watched intently while Morgan sat on the end of her bed and burned

through the pages Camille Burke had penned. She wanted nothing more

than to go to Morgan. She needed the close warmth of Morgan to melt

away the pain inside her soul. Instead, she waited quietly for Morgan

to finish reading.

“She killed herself.” Morgan looked at Parker as she spoke the

words and her look conveyed sorrow for Camille as well as apology to

Parker for not having lent credence to Parker’s theories.

“Yes, and who could blame her? Teddy Burke has spent his life

skating around the edge of trouble but never coming close enough to be

caught. No one would have ever believed he had been raping his sister

for years. I’d be willing to bet he paid off Dr. Hudson to make sure

there was no tox screen done. If there was a suicide note at the scene,

it’s probably long gone. Camille had nowhere to go, no one to tell. I’m

sure she was so ashamed, she thought Leslie Hammond would drop her

once he found out. Clearly, she loved him. She wrote this letter to him

to make sure he knew he wasn’t the reason she broke things off.”

Morgan grasped Parker’s hand. She sensed Parker was internalizing

Camille’s pain and she wanted to ground her in the here and now.

“Parker, there’s nothing anyone could have done. Camille kept the

secret and by doing so, she shut out anyone who could have helped her

break free.” Placing her hand under Parker’s chin, she tilted her face

until she was staring into her eyes. The connection was electric.

The rough sound of a throat clearing broke the wordless bond.

Morgan looked across the room where Jake waited patiently.

“Ladies, I think we need to make some decisions.”

Morgan nodded. “I have Gibson’s cell phone number. She’s

probably practicing a stinging opening argument. I’ll take great pleasure

in interrupting her. Jake, will you give Ford a call and let him know

what’s going on?”

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It Should Be a Crime

“Yep.” He fished a cell phone from his jacket pocket. “I think I’ll

call from downstairs so we don’t talk over each other. Parker, meet me

downstairs when you’re done helping Ms. Bradley explain the situation

to Ms. Gibson.” Nodding, he left the room.

Parker looked down at Morgan’s hand still clasping her own.

“Subtle.”

“Has he always been so perceptive?”

“He’s a regular Sherlock Holmes.” Parker fastened her gaze on

Morgan. “I have so much I want to say to you.” All she wanted to do at

this very moment was lean in and take. Take Morgan’s hair and sweep it

back from her face. Take Morgan’s full lips with her own and kiss away

the distance between them. Take Morgan’s clothes and tear away all

barriers to her soft and lovely skin. But before she could take, she had

to know Morgan wanted to be taken, and now was not the time to solve

the case of the unrequited love. Love? Was she feeling love? Surely

she desired Morgan; she craved her, even. But love? She turned the

question over in her mind and examined it from all angles. The answer

was clear, but this was not the time to take the chance. “We’ll talk later.

Right now, you need to make a call.”

Morgan’s steady stare almost dissolved Parker. Her brain sent

signals telling her to ignore her doubts and take what she wanted, but

before the synapse fired her into action, Morgan picked up the phone

and started dialing. Parker barely caught herself and settled in to listen.

Later, she thought. Later.

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chapter twenty

I would like a brief continuance to investigate this matter.”

Judge Thompson looked down his nose at Valerie Gibson

before glancing at Morgan and Ford. “I assume you two have something

to say about this.” Morgan had been up half the night strategizing,

but she was poised to respond to the prosecutor’s request. They were

scheduled to present opening statements in thirty minutes and Ford

was prepared to deliver one for the defense. Immediately following,

Teddy Burke was scheduled to take the stand. Morgan had been up late

revising her cross-examination, including damning questions about his

role in his sister’s death, whether it was suicide or murder. Despite her

hours of preparation, she was willing to bet they wouldn’t be presenting

anything to the jury today.

“Certainly, we do, Judge. We think the prosecutor already has

enough information to dismiss the charges against our client. A

county medical examiner will testify Ms. Burke was poisoned and

now the prosecutor has a suicide note. I’m not sure what she intends

to investigate, but certainly her case is already riddled with enough

reasonable doubt for an acquittal.” Despite her attempts to persuade,

Morgan knew the judge would most likely grant a short continuance to

the prosecutor, who had been as surprised by last evening’s revelations

as she was, but she didn’t have to agree to it. The delay was likely to

be very short considering the fact they had a jury sworn and in the box

ready to go. Judges weren’t in favor of inconveniencing those citizens

who actually showed up for jury duty, especially since those same

citizens were likely to vote in the next election.

“Judge, this new evidence hasn’t been entirely verified. Plus,

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it’s not as if any of this information negates the fact Mr. Chavez’s

fingerprints were on the gun that shot Camille Burke in the face and

he was found standing over her dead body. I’m asking for a day to sort

through this. One day is all I ask.”

“Granted. We’ll reconvene tomorrow morning at eight thirty. Ms.

Bradley, do you have any motions to make at this time?”

She was ready. “Yes, judge. Mr. Chavez has been in jail for several

months pending the trial of this matter. In light of the new evidence and

the additional delay, we respectfully ask he be released on a personal

bond.”

Valerie Gibson flew out of her seat shouting “Your honor, defense

counsel’s request is premature. We’re only asking for a day delay.”

Judge Thompson studiously avoided looking at Gibson as he

made his ruling. “Defense motion for personal bond is granted. Bring

me an order and I’ll sign it.” He stood to indicate their meeting was

over and everyone should leave his chambers. Morgan and Ford filed

past the stunned Gibson on their way to let Luis know the good news.

Luis was to be released on his own recognizance pending the outcome

of the case. The judge had made known his opinion about the state of

the evidence by his ruling. If he thought the trial was going to proceed

in a day, it was unlikely he would have agreed to the bond. Morgan

knew she should waste no time in case the tide turned, and she planned

to spend the rest of the day reviewing her notes even though she knew

the adrenaline pumping through her veins would likely rob her of the

ability to concentrate. She pondered ways of channeling her energy, but

practicality settled in. A resolution about her feelings for Parker would

have to wait the outcome of this case. Even as she had the thought,

she knew that where Parker was concerned, her feelings were already

resolved.

v

Bag of bagels in hand, Parker approached the door to Skye’s

duplex. It was a beautiful fall morning and she felt good. She had

talked to Dex and gotten a full report on the morning’s activities at the

courthouse. He added in that the prosecutor was ranting about the fact

both her key witness and lead detective were missing in action. Parker

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It Should Be a Crime

figured Teddy Burke had gotten wind of Camille’s letter. His family’s

influence had always saved his ass in the past, and no doubt someone

at the courthouse had tipped him off. As for Skye, she was probably

taking cover till the chaos at the courthouse blew over. Gibson couldn’t

be happy with her for getting the tox screen, and now that her case was

falling apart, Skye would be the most convenient scapegoat. Parker

didn’t wish that on anyone.

By the looks of things, the Chavez case would be over soon and

then she and Morgan could have the talk they had both alluded to. She

was so immersed in her own perspective she had only a vague idea

of how Morgan felt, but she at least wanted to let Morgan know her

job was no longer in jeopardy even if nothing were to come from the

feelings she harbored. No matter what, she had to face her past before

she could find a future with Morgan, or anyone else. So, bagels in hand,

she raised her hand to ring the bell and make one last visit back in

time.

Parker stopped with her hand in midair. Skye’s front door was

slightly ajar, a small but clear signal something was wrong. Cops

weren’t careless. Parker bent down and carefully placed the bag of

bagels to the side of the porch. Instinctively, she reached around her

waist for the gun she no longer wore. After years of carrying a weapon,

she still felt naked without it. Parker leaned forward, almost touching

the door frame, and listened through the crack. Tense, whispered voices

drifted through Skye’s small home, and though she couldn’t make out

the words, Parker felt urgent action was required. She gently pushed

Skye’s front door open until she could slip through the opening.

Parker stepped quietly through the small hallway and glanced

into each room she passed. Skye’s place was modest—one bedroom,

one bath, living area, and kitchen. The whispered voices stopped and

Parker had only her instincts to guide her. Each room appeared to be

empty until she reached the kitchen where she saw the shadow of a

figure seated at the small dinette. Parker could only see the figure’s

back, but she knew it wasn’t Skye—it was a man. She watched as the

stranger raised a mug and drank, slowly, as if enjoying a leisurely cup

of morning coffee. There was no turning back now. She knew Skye was

in trouble and she had to face this man in order to save her. She had

faced him before, but something about the cool, confident way he made

himself at home here shook her steady resolve, but only for a moment.

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She knew she had to display more control than he if she was to wrest

away his confidence. She channeled all the hurt and anger from Camille

Burke’s last words and drew strength from Camille’s pain.

“Why, Teddy Burke, don’t you know everyone in town is looking

for you?”

He swiveled in his chair and faced her. She caught a glimpse of

fear in his eyes before his expression settled back into calm. When he

spoke he displayed no affect.

“Well, hello, former Detective Casey. If you, a discharged and

disgraced detective, found me, I can’t be so very hard to locate, now

can I?”

Parker stifled natural responses and merely stared at him. She’d

known for years Teddy Burke was a sociopath, but she’d had no idea

he was capable of the torment he’d inflicted on his own sister. She was

consumed with worry about Skye. Her car was parked outside. She had

to be here somewhere. Parker concentrated her full attention on him.

She knew her every word, her every action, could mean the difference

in whether both she and Skye escaped unharmed. She played along.

“I suppose you’re right. I imagine others will be here soon to look

for you.”

His lack of affect was unsettling. “Certainly. We have time to

share a cup of coffee. Sit. Drink with me.” He pointed to an empty

chair at the table.

The last thing Parker wanted to do was sit. She knew it was

imperative to remain in a position of readiness. In addition, she had no

desire to drink anything Teddy Burke might offer. But she also knew

she needed to buy time, time to learn Skye’s location and time to figure

out a way to take control of the situation. She sat and took the mug he

offered. Parker drew on years of practice coaxing criminals into telling

their stories and offered Teddy the chance to tell his tale.

“I assume you know Camille left a suicide note.”

“I heard something to that effect.”

“She said a number of things about you in the note. Despicable

things. I’m sure you’d like a chance to refute her accusations, substitute

truth for her lies.”

His eyes flashed anger. “Are you calling my sister, my flesh and

blood, a liar?”

Parker realized she was pushing too hard, too fast. “No, no. Not at

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all. I don’t know why she wrote the things she did.” She took a different

tack. “Perhaps someone forced her to write those awful accusations.

Someone who was jealous of your relationship with her.”

Teddy Burke stroked his chin and leaned back in his chair, eyes

half closed. “There were many who were.”

Ah, I’ve hit on something here. Parker tamped down on her

excitement and continued in an easy tone. “I have no doubt you loved

her. It must have been hard to know she was desired by many others.”

He looked through her as he answered, his eyes and thoughts

focused on a past scene. “If I tell you everything, you will

understand.”

It was part declaration, part question. Parker answered simply,

“Yes.”

v

“I went to be with her as I had many nights before. Camille was

my true love and she always welcomed me. Our bond was special,

everlasting.

“I looked for her in the bed. It was late and she should have been

waiting for me. Her bed was empty. I looked around and found her

lying near her desk, curled into a hideous display of the grotesque. Her

arms and legs were sprawled into spasm and her face was frozen into

a mask of horror. The sight of her was revolting. I could barely stand

to look at her.

“On her desk, I found a letter full of lies and hurt, obviously

conjured by a jealous lover who made her write painful words designed

to pierce me to the core. My darling would never speak such lies.

“I knew she wouldn’t want to be found like this. Wouldn’t want

people to think she was weak. Taking your own life is weak, even if

you’re pressured by forces stronger than your own. I burned the note.

She would have wanted me to. I would fix her death scene so no one

would ever know she had succumbed to frailty.

“When I was done, I stared at the gun in my hand, willing it to

draw back the bullet with the same force it had expended to send the

metal hurtling into my beloved’s face. Seconds seemed like hours as

I stood still, contemplating the consequences of this final act. I raised

the gun to my own temple and sorted through the reasons death would

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bring me peace. Like a rush of cold, my composure returned and I chose

to survive. She would’ve wanted me to go on. I found a handkerchief in

my pocket, and slowly and deliberately, I wiped the black casing of the

weapon to a mighty shine.

“I was just finishing when I heard rough boots running up the

stairs. I shoved the cloth in my pocket, tossed the gun on the floor, and

ducked into the adjoining study. Peering through the slightly cracked

door, I watched the dirty handyman burst into my beloved’s sanctuary,

leaving spots of grass and dirt to mark his path. He stopped short at

the sight of her lying in a massive pool of her own blood, but not short

enough. His boots trailed the essence of her being everywhere he

stepped. I watched him look at her face, perhaps searching for signs of

breath. He even leaned close, barely touching. Seeing no indication of

life, he backed away, his heavy boots catching on the gun lying behind

him, sending it skittering across the wood plank floors. As if entranced,

he followed its path and, joy of joys, picked up the shiny weapon and

held it in his rough and grimy hands. I was barely able to conceal my

glee. Tiptoeing to the hall, I charged into the room and surprised him,

standing over her body.

“The handyman…what kind of name is ‘handyman’ for someone

who does little bits of nothing? He turned at the sound of my entrance

and read the accusation pouring from my eyes. His glance flicked down

to the gun in his hand. Uneducated, yes, but he was not entirely lacking

in common sense. He threw the gun to the ground and ran past me, his

master, hurtling down the staircase. I pretended to pursue him, but I had

more pressing matters to attend to.”

v

“So you destroyed the note and called the cops?” Parker spoke to

break the trance his telling had evoked and she found the sound of her

own voice jarring after the singsong revelations of the madman. She

knew she shouldn’t push him if she wanted to buy time, but his cold-

blooded account of his sister’s death left her repulsed and impatient.

“I protected my family, yes.” Not a shade of defensiveness in his

tone.

“You protected yourself.” Parker assumed the most disgusted

expression she could muster. It wasn’t hard under the circumstances.

• 222 •

It Should Be a Crime

“How much did you have to pay the ME to cover your tracks?” Tired

of the imbalance of the situation, she resolved to provoke him to anger.

Anything to gain some advantage while she formed a plan. She was

certain she could hear a quiet groan close by. Steeling herself for sure

conflict, she resisted the urge to cut a glance through the doorway of the

adjoining room. Skye, where are you?

“How long had you been raping your little sister, Teddy?”

“I’m tired of talking now. Drink your coffee and I’ll take you to

see your friend.”

Parker glanced down at the mug in her hand. All she could see

was the glass of poison this man had driven his only sibling to drink.

Teddy’s hands were tucked under the table’s edge and his stillness was

unsettling. She had no doubt he was armed and was equally certain he

had no intention of letting her live to reveal his sordid tale. She knew

she had only seconds to act. Parker noted the steam as it wafted from

the coffee mug and it inspired her. She drew the cup of coffee to her

lips but at the last moment she wrenched it away and threw the heavy

ceramic mug and its scalding contents at Teddy’s head. He leapt from

his seat, screaming in pain, as the liquid burned his eyes. Parker lunged

across the table and knocked him to the floor with the entire weight of

her body. She stepped on his wrist until he let loose his gun and she

knocked it across the room. Fists whaling, she delivered the punishment

she had wanted to administer since she caught him threatening Morgan

weeks before. Unleashed, her rage drove her fists to strike him over and

over again and she lost herself in revenge, for Morgan, for Camille, for

countless other victims she had never been able to avenge.

A moan, louder now, broke her trance. Parker looked down at her

own hands, bloody and broken, and shook her head as if to clear away

the entire scene. Her mind cleared and she realized the sound wasn’t

coming from the man beneath her. She concentrated her every effort

to focus. Skye. I have to find Skye. Parker winced as she grasped the

arm of a chair for balance and stumbled across the room, following the

sounds of Skye’s pain.

Skye lay on the floor beside her bed. Her forehead was bleeding

and her face was puffy from several well-landed blows. Her hands and

legs were bound and it looked as though she had snaked her way out

from under the bed before giving in to the pain of having been beaten.

Parker bent to untie her and murmur words of comfort.

• 223 •

carsen taite

“Skye, baby. Look at me. You’re going to be okay.” Parker hurried

to untie the cords wrapped tightly around Skye’s wrists and ankles.

Skye, hands now free, motioned for Parker to lean in. Parker moved in

close, but could still barely make out Skye’s labored words.

“I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Camille. Poisoned. I knew.” Skye coughed and Parker motioned

her to say no more. She didn’t want to hear anymore because she didn’t

have the energy to absorb, let alone process, the revelation. Later. She

would process things later. Right now, she knew she needed to call this

in, but she needed to make sure Skye was okay first. Her face was almost

unrecognizable. Once she freed Skye’s bonds, Parker lifted her onto the

bed and walked over to the bedside phone. She lifted the handset and

started punching the numbers to bring help. Before she could finish, she

heard a loud bump against the door frame and looked up into the eyes

of the psychopath she thought she had rendered harmless. Teddy Burke

leaned heavily against the door, weak from his beating, but drawing

strength from the large handgun he trained on Skye. His eyes were

mere pinpricks seated in swollen sockets, but his voice was clear and

loud.

“Put the fucking phone down or I will kill you both.”

Parker knew it was a lie. He planned to kill them both no matter

what she did. She met his stare without waver, but she did not see him.

Her mind was turned inward and all she saw was Morgan. All she could

think of was how she would never be ever to tell Morgan she loved her

beyond measure. She couldn’t help it. She let loose a mirthless laugh at

the irony of the revelation that surfaced too late.

“You think this is funny?” Teddy’s hand shook as his rage

consumed him.

Parker made a snap decision and she delivered her words on the

run. “No, but I do think I’ll have the last laugh.” She was almost on him

when the shot rang out.

v

“Hey, Morgan, what are you doing back down here?” Ford was

hunched over his desk in his office. From the doorway it looked like he

• 224 •

It Should Be a Crime

was hard at work reviewing a file, but a closer examination revealed he

was poring over a crossword puzzle.

“I’m not good at waiting alone. My students seem to have scattered

to the wind so I thought I would bother you for a while. Any word?”

Morgan spent the morning paralyzed. She could fine-tune her opening

argument, but not knowing if she was going to need it robbed her of

motivation. She had no idea where Dex was, and Gerald was the last

person she wanted to see. Yolanda had sent her an e-mail letting her

know Parker had dropped her class. Her e-mail, though terse, conveyed

Yolanda’s obvious anger at Morgan for letting her tryst with a student

get so out of hand it affected the student’s coursework. Morgan didn’t

blame Yolanda for being angry at her, but she had no idea how to

resolve the situation. I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Parker seems to

have found a resolution all on her own and she didn’t need or want my

help. Morgan reached for the phone several times to call Parker, but

hung up before dialing because she had no idea what she could say to

bridge the gap that had formed between them.

“Let’s go downstairs and bother young Valerie. She’s bound to be

all stressed out, and you’ll feel much better if you can add to it.”

“You know, I think you’re right.” She grabbed his hand and pulled

him from his chair. “Let’s go.”

“Morgan.”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?” Ford asked. “I mean, I’ve never seen you get this

stressed out working on a case. Excited, yes, but stressed, no. And, I

couldn’t help but notice you seem to have some sort of rift with Parker

Casey.”

Morgan started to deliver quick words of reassurance to let Ford

know everything was fine in her world, but as she looked into his caring

eyes, she knew she couldn’t lie even if she couldn’t bring herself to tell

all. “I’m sure you’re not the only one who noticed the ‘rift’ with Parker.

There is something else going on, but I’m not ready to talk about it. Can

we leave it at that?”

Ford locked arms with her and gave her a solid hug. “Of course

we can. You know where to find me if you need to talk. Now, come on,

let’s go have some fun.”

Ford and Morgan found Valerie Gibson hunched over her desk in

• 225 •

carsen taite

the DA workroom, but she wasn’t working on crossword puzzles, she

was furiously examining her case file. Seated in a chair nearby was

Detective Peterson, Skye’s partner. He was nursing a cup of coffee but

otherwise looked like he hadn’t a care in the world. Morgan slide into

the chair closest to Gibson’s desk.

“Any news?”

Gibson growled her answer. “Not yet.”

Morgan nodded at Peterson. “He seems to be hard at work looking

for the suspect.”

Peterson came out of his seat. “Look, lady, I’ve been out all night

looking for Burke, and I’ll likely be doing the same the rest of the day—

all because of your stupid theories. Your client shot Camille Burke in

the fucking face and no dirt you kick up suggests otherwise.”

Gibson’s hard stare forced the detective back into his chair, but it

was obvious she felt the same way. Speaking to Morgan, she asked, “Is

there some reason you stopped by?” Her tone was dismissive.

“Nothing specific. We’re merely checking in, but I can see you

have a lot to do so we’ll leave you to it.” Morgan rose and started to

the door with Ford close behind. The ringing of a cell phone caused

them both to pause and everyone in the room looked at their phones.

Detective Peterson flipped his open. Morgan continued on toward the

door, but she couldn’t help but hear his side of the exchange.

“Peterson. What?…Yeah, that’s Keaton’s house…What

hospital?…I’m on my way.” Slamming his phone shut, Peterson started

toward the door, tossing words at Gibson as he moved. “There’s been a

shooting at Skye’s house. Two females are being transported to the ER

at Memorial. I’ll call you when I know more.”

Morgan froze. Two females. She knew in her core Parker was one

of them and she raced after the detective who was practically running

down the hall. “Detective?”

He glanced back, but didn’t slow his pace. “What?”

She cut to the question she needed answered the most. “How

badly are they hurt?”

He shook his head and continued running.

v

• 226 •

It Should Be a Crime

Morgan jumped from Ford’s still moving pickup and ran to the

doors of the ER while he went to find a place to park. On the drive

over, Ford had contacted one of his police buddies and learned Teddy

Burke had been arrested and Skye Keaton, along with another female,

had been taken to Memorial with unspecified injuries. Morgan had just

enough information to fuel an overactive imagination. Morgan had no

idea how she was going to get more information from the nurses than

she’d gotten from the detective, but she formed the beginning of a plan

during the lightning drive across town. Rushing to the ER gatekeeper,

she flashed her bar card.

“I came directly from the courthouse. I understand the detective

on my case is being seen here.” She hoped her authoritative tone would

buy her entrance. “I’m meeting Detective Peterson here.” All of her

statements were true. The harried desk clerk pushed the button opening

the automatic doors and waved her through. “She’s in two C, on your

right.”

As Morgan walked through, she took a deep breath, steeling

herself for whatever might greet her on the other side of the doors. She

spied Peterson talking to a nurse in the hall and ducked past, her target

straight ahead. She read the number on the door: 2C. Taking a deep

breath, she pushed her way into the room.

v

Parker refused to leave Skye’s side. She knew her own body well

enough to know she wasn’t hurt badly, but Skye was a different story.

Teddy made full use of the time before Parker arrived at Skye’s house

to administer a thorough beating and Parker was certain he had broken

bones, at least in Skye’s face.

“Parker.” Skye’s voice was faint.

“Don’t try to talk. They are waiting on the x-rays and then you’ll

see a doctor. They’ll fix you right up.”

“We need to talk.” Skye grabbed and held Parker’s hand, willing

her to listen to the words she forced from swollen lips. “Camille.”

“Skye, you already told me. Let it rest. We’ll talk about it later.”

“You saved my life. I owe you the truth.” Skye took a deep breath.

“Crime scene techs recovered a glass from Camille’s desk. The lab

• 227 •

carsen taite

report showed it was loaded with strychnine. I got rid of it. ME was

too lazy to do a tox screen and without the lab report, he didn’t have a

reason to. I thought I was doing the right thing. Didn’t want it to mess

up the conviction. I mean, Luis did shoot her even if the bullet wasn’t

what killed her.”

Parker knew any guilt Skye was feeling now about her part in

hiding the fact Camille Burke had been poisoned would skyrocket the

moment she found out Teddy Burke, not Luis Chavez, had been the one

who shot his dear sister in the face. Skye measured her worth by her

ability to ferret out the truth. She knew Skye well enough to know the

revelation would crush her self-confidence. Perhaps because she had

her own beliefs shattered, Parker found herself wanting to protect her

from the disillusionment of learning that no matter how hard you tried

to get at the truth, you were limited by your inability to be omniscient.

Having received a crippling dose of the same disillusionment herself,

she wished its effects on no one else. Parker knew Skye’s brush with

death would mark an indelible change in her attitude about truth

gathering. Skye had played fast and loose with the facts for the last

time. Empathy drove Parker to lean in and speak gently in Skye’s ear,

delivering the words she knew Skye needed to hear. “I forgive you.”

A sound at the door caused Parker to glance back. She expected

to see either the nurse or doctor come to deliver news about the results

of Skye’s x-rays. Instead she saw the last person she expected to see

in this place. Morgan Bradley was stunning even when she was wild-

eyed and harried. Her hair looked as though she had been running her

hands through it and her suit was in disarray. Parker was so absorbed

by the intense craving she felt for Morgan, it took her a moment to

realize Morgan seemed paralyzed. She stood transfixed, her hand still

on the door, her eyes riveted on something in the room. Parker followed

her stare and realized Morgan’s sight was trained on her hand, firmly

clasping Skye’s. She was aware she was still leaning close to Skye and

her face was mere inches from Skye’s ear. She jerked upright, but not

before Morgan turned as if to leave.

“Morgan, wait.” Parker started toward the door.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in. I wanted to make sure you were

all right.” Morgan refused to meet Parker’s eyes though she remained

rooted in place.

“I am.”

• 228 •

It Should Be a Crime

“I heard there was a shooting. I was…I didn’t know…” Morgan

couldn’t manage to speak her fears out loud.

Parker grabbed her hands and ducked to meet Morgan’s gaze.

“Teddy Burke is a bad shot. At least when he’s shooting at the living.”

Morgan shook her head. She didn’t have the capacity at this

moment to process anything other than the fact Parker was alive.

The terror she felt the entire drive over washed away at the sight of

Parker here and whole, leaving her feeling empty and out of place.

Parker wasn’t alone and she seemed fine, at least fine enough to hold

and comfort Skye. Morgan felt her presence was superfluous and she

started to walk away.

Parker slid her arm around Morgan’s waist and moved her into the

hall. Spying a storage closet, she steered them into the cramped space.

“Morgan. Look at me. Please.” Morgan’s resistance collapsed against

the strength of Parker’s embrace. She turned her head and met a look

from eyes so full of longing she shook from the impact. She started to

speak, but Parker placed a finger across her lips and delivered words

of her own.

“I love you.” Parker had started to say more, but once those words

left her mouth she knew no more were necessary.

Morgan pulled her closer and held her tight. Her words displayed

an uncertainty her body did not possess. “Why are you telling me

this?”

Parker’s smile was slow and easy. “Because it’s true and life’s too

short to be scared to embrace the truth when you discover it.”

Morgan looked at her and noticed for the first time, the gash on

her head and her bloody and bruised hands. Shots fired. She could have

lost Parker to the bullet of a psychopath before she ever had a chance to

admit her own feelings. Standing here, in her arms, she couldn’t bring

herself to care about all the things she once deemed so important: job,

boundaries, propriety. All she cared about was the pulsing desire, the

unwavering affection, and the limitless adoration she felt for the strong,

sexy Parker who had softly spoken words of promise she deserved to

hear spoken in return. “Parker, I love you too. I want to find a way past

the obstacles. Can you be patient with me?”

“No.” Parker let her response register before she continued. “Like

I said, life’s too short. I quit your class. In fact, I have enough hours to

graduate without it at the end of this semester and that is precisely what

• 229 •

carsen taite

I’m going to do. This case is over. All your obstacles are gone. Be with

me. If you say no to me now, your reasons are all your own.”

Morgan registered Parker’s gently worded ultimatum and knew

she had this one opportunity to accept or reject Parker’s offer of love,

life, happiness. Control, mastered through years of work, was the one

thing standing between her and promises offered. Even as she had the

thought, she realized the extent to which her desire to be in control

blocked her path to happiness. If she loved Parker, truly loved her,

she should be able to shout it from the rooftops, let alone profess her

feelings in front of one other person. And she did love Parker. She’d

loved her from the very first time they stood in the alley and Parker

provided what she wanted, what she needed, without a second thought.

She had loved her since the day Parker introduced herself in class. And

she couldn’t have loved her more than the day she listened to the tale of

hurt and betrayal this formidable hero faced from the ones she trusted

the most. Morgan reached her arms around Parker’s neck and pulled

her in. She spoke the words she knew Parker needed to hear, words she

meant with all her heart, words she had spoken to no other, words she

wanted the whole world to hear.

“I’m yours.”

• 230 •

It Should Be a Crime

chapter twenty-one

I’ve never seen so many people show up for early graduation.”

Yolanda surveyed herself in the mirror in her office. “We only

have ten students graduating and there are over a hundred people in the

audience.”

Morgan straightened Yolanda’s hood and made sure her doctoral

robe was squared on her shoulders. “Maybe some of your students are

very popular.”

“You think?” Yolanda grinned. “Don’t you want to go see her

instead of hanging out here with me?”

“I’d love to, but she has plenty of friends fussing over her right

now. They’ve all been here for her from the beginning. This is their

time.” Morgan sighed. “Besides, who else would be back here with you

making sure you had your robe on straight?”

“If you are looking for volunteers…”

They turned at the sound of the male voice and Yolanda called out,

“Jim, get the hell out of here. I’m getting dressed.”

Jim Spencer was undaunted by rejection. “Don’t worry. You both

have on more layers than I care to fool with.” He looked at Morgan.

“Our friend has quite the fan club out there. I bet you can’t wait for her

to graduate.”

“Matter of fact, I can’t. I have more work lined up than I can handle

on my own.” Morgan referred to the law office she’d opened several

weeks before. “She better pass the bar the first time out. I’ve already

had business cards made up.” Morgan pulled Jim aside. “I want you to

know how much I appreciate whatever it was you said to Gerald.”

“Not a problem. Gerald may think that because his father’s a

• 231 •

carsen taite

bigshot, he can throw his weight around, but I happen to know his father

very well, and I urged him to have a talk with his wayward son. Gerald

will be happy with whatever grade he truly deserves from you.”

“Enough chatter, people. Let’s get this show on the road.” Yolanda

clapped her hands and waved them out of her office. With Jim leading

the way, they made their way to the small auditorium where the rest

of the faculty and family and friends of the graduating students were

assembled. Midyear graduations were normally small, intimate affairs

with no more than a dozen or so well-wishers in attendance, but today

the room was packed. Morgan recognized many of the faces and realized

Parker was indeed popular. Quite a few law school students postponed

leaving for the holiday to be present for this occasion, including Dex

and several 1Ls. As she continued to scan the audience, Morgan noted

several faces from the bar where she met Parker for the first time.

Parker, however, was nowhere in sight and Morgan fought the urge to

leave her colleagues to go looking for her.

v

“Stand up straight. You can frame this one and hang it in your new

office.”

Parker shifted one last time as she waited for Kelsey to take her

picture. As much as she wanted to take off the silly robe and run far

away from all the pomp and circumstance, she knew this day meant

as much to her friends who had always been there for her as it did

to herself. At least the ceremony for early graduation was a smallish

affair. Parker was ready to reenter the real world and swap solving

hypothetical problems for championing genuine causes. Kelsey’s next

words killed her hopes about a modest, intimate affair.

“You should see all the people who are out there. I heard someone

saying it’s standing room only.”

“Jeez. Think we can sneak out the back door?”

“Not on your life. I know of a certain woman in particular who

would be very disappointed if you didn’t walk across that stage.” Kelsey

paused. “And speaking of disappointed women, Skye’s here.”

“I saw her come in.”

“Does it bother you that she’s here?”

Parker shook her head. “No. It’s okay. I’m okay. Skye doesn’t

• 232 •

It Should Be a Crime

have the power to hurt me anymore. I think what happened with Teddy

Burke shook her to the core. She’s resigned from the force and her only

involvement with the law will be to testify at his trial. He’ll go away for

a long time for what he did to Skye.”

“Not long enough. Too bad they can’t prosecute him for murdering

Camille.”

“Damn straight.” Parker grabbed Kelsey’s arm. “Walk me to my

seat?”

The ceremony itself was a blur. Because she was sitting in the

front row, Parker didn’t register how many people were in attendance

until she walked across the stage. Irene must have closed the bar for

the day and required all her employees to attend. And, of course, there

was Dex, who had teased her unmercifully about graduating early. He

insisted she did it so she could win their competition to be top of the

class. Most surprising were all the other law students in attendance.

And there, in the front row of the faculty section, was her favorite

professor. As Parker crossed the stage, she flashed Morgan a smile full

of promise.

v

“I thought I’d never get you alone.” Morgan slipped her arms

inside Parker’s gown and pulled her close.

“There are a hundred people about ten feet away. At some point

they’re going to get tired of punch and cookies and go in search of more.”

Despite her words, Parker didn’t move out of Morgan’s embrace.

“Scared they’ll find us in a compromising position?” Morgan ran

her palm along Parker’s breast and sighed at the shivered response.

Parker unzipped her gown and pulled Morgan all the way in.

“Maybe.”

Morgan held her close. She didn’t care who witnessed her passion.

This day was about celebration. Parker was graduating and she and

Morgan were poised to begin their new life together as lovers and

partners. She resisted the urge to shout her feelings, instead whispering

in Parker’s ear, “Would you like to know the first thing I have planned

for us?” Morgan didn’t wait for Parker’s response, instead relying on

her demonstrative skills to make her case.

• 233 •

About the Author

Carsen works by day (and sometimes night) as a criminal defense

attorney in Dallas, Texas. Though her day job is often stranger than

fiction, she can’t seem to get enough and spends much of her free

time devouring other people’s fiction and plotting her own. Her goal

as an author is to spin tales with plot lines as interesting as the true,

but often unbelievable, stories she encounters in her law practice.

Her first stab at fiction, truelesbianlove.com, was a pure romance,

released as one of the debut novels in the Bold Strokes Aeros eBook

line. It Should be a Crime, Carsen’s second novel, draws heavily on

her experience in the courtroom.

Carsen is married (Canadian-style) and she and her spouse live near

White Rock Lake in Dallas, where they enjoy cycling and walking

the trails with their four-legged children.

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Borgia court, presents Michelangelo with the greatest temptations of

his life while struggling with soul-threatening desires for the painter

Raphaela. (978-1-60282-051-7)

radical encounters by Radclyffe. An out-of-bounds, outside-the-

lines collection of provocative, superheated erotica by award-winning

romance and erotica author Radclyffe. (978-1-60282-050-0)

thief of Always by Kim Baldwin & Xenia Alexiou. Stealing a diamond

to save the world should be easy for Elite Operative Mishael Taylor, but

she didn’t figure on love getting in the way. (978-1-60282-049-4)

X by JD Glass. When X-hacker Charlie Riven is framed for a crime

she didn’t commit, she accepts help from an unlikely source—sexy

Treasury Agent Elaine Harper. (978-1-60282-048-7)

the middle of somewhere by Clifford Henderson. Eadie T. Pratt sets

out on a road trip in search of a new life and ends up in the middle of

somewhere she never expected. (978-1-60282-047-0)

Paybacks by Gabrielle Goldsby. Cameron Howard wants to avoid her

old nemesis Mackenzie Brandt but their high school reunion brings up

more than just memories. (978-1-60282-046-3)

uncross my heart by Andrews & Austin. When a radio talk show

diva sets out to interview a female priest, the two women end up at

odds and neither heaven nor earth is safe from their feelings. (978-1-

60282-045-6)

Fireside by Cate Culpepper. Mac, a therapist, and Abby, a nurse, fall in

love against the backdrop of friendship, healing, and defending one’s

own within the Fireside shelter. (978-1-60282-044-9)

A Pirate’s heart by Catherine Friend. When rare book librarian Emma

Boyd searches for a long-lost treasure map, she learns the hard way that

pirates still exist in today’s world—some modern pirates steal maps,

others steal hearts. (978-1-60282-040-1)

trails merge by Rachel Spangler. Parker Riley escapes the high-

powered world of politics to Campbell Carson’s ski resort—and their

mutual attraction produces anything but smooth running. (978-1-

60282-039-5)

dreams of Bali by C.J. Harte. Madison Barnes worships work,

power, and success, and she’s never allowed anyone to interfere—

that is, until she runs into Karlie Henderson Stockard. Aeros EBook

(978-1-60282-070-8)

the limits of Justice by John Morgan Wilson. Benjamin Justice

and reporter Alexandra Templeton search for a killer in a mysterious

compound in the remote California desert. (978-1-60282-060-9)

designed for love by Erin Dutton. Jillian Sealy and Wil Johnson

don’t much like each other, but they do have to work together—

and what they desire most is not what either of them had planned.

(978-1-60282-038-8)

calling the dead by Ali Vali. Six months after Hurricane Katrina,

NOLA Detective Sept Savoie is a cop who thinks making a relationship

work is harder than catching a serial killer—but her current case may

prove her wrong. (978-1-60282-037-1)

truelesbianlove.com by Carsen Taite. Mackenzie Lewis and Dr.

Jordan Wagner have very different ideas about love, but they discover

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Table of Contents

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter Four

chapter Five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten

chapter eleven

chapter twelve

chapter thirteen

chapter Fourteen

chapter FiFteen

chapter sixteen

chapter seventeen

chapter eighteen

chapter nineteen

chapter twenty

chapter twenty-one