Whisper last night had really messed with her head. She’d intellectually resolved her issues with Suzy’s death, at least she thought she had. But Julie considered that somewhere, deep down, the guilt still fueled her every decision.
They arrived at the medical examiner’s office in the Harborview Medical Center. Ethan Beck, a tall man with dark, cropped hair and sky-blue, eyes was waiting for them in the family lounge.
“Julie Burns, how are you?” Ethan extended his hand but Julie went in for a quick hug. Ethan had been a good influence on Morgan growing up, and she’d always be grateful to him.
“It’s good to see you,” she said. “Had I known you were aSeattle cop I would have come to you instead of running to Port Whisper.”
“What, and miss getting personal attention from a police chief?” he teased.
“Let’s ID the body,” Morgan said, irritation in his voice.
Ethan’s expression hardened. “Why don’t you have a seat in the family area. I’ll get the photograph.”
“You mean, I won’t have to actually see the body?” Julie asked, slightly relieved.
“No, wait here. I’ll get the medical examiner.”
As Ethan went down a long, gray hallway, Julie couldn’t help but remember Andy’s mischievous smile and determined attitude. He was a fighter, and she thought he’d changed his battleground. She’d thought he was fighting for a healthier, productive life.
Yet now his body, a shell empty of spirit and personality, most likely lay on a cold slab down the hall.
Hugging herself, she released a sigh.
“Jules?” Morgan said.
She glanced at him.
“It’ll be okay.”
She bit back a frustrated retort. If she heard “It’ll be okay” one more time, she was going to lose it and scream.
“Thanks,” she said.
Ethan walked toward them accompanied by a middle-aged woman in a white lab coat. She carried something in her hand: the photograph.
Julie’s pulse raced into her throat at the thought of what Andy would look like. They approached her and the woman offered a consoling smile. “He was beaten up pretty bad, but his face is identifiable. Are you ready?”
Julie nodded and Morgan put his arm around her for support. “You can do this.”
And she could, as long as Morgan stayed close.
The medical examiner held up the photograph…
FIVE
T he air rushed from Julie’s lungs.
She turned and buried her face against Morgan’s chest. “It’s not him.”
Relief warred with sadness as the image of the dead boy’s face seared into her brain. Bruised, broken, lifeless.
“It’s okay,” Morgan said, stroking her back. For a second the comforting gesture calmed her frantic heartbeat, then anger burned its way through her chest.
“It’s not okay, Morgan. He’s dead for no reason, and…and it’s all so ridiculously senseless.”
Julie walked away from the group and went outside.
“Jules,” Morgan called after her.
She couldn’t stop running, running from the image of death, the tragedy of a boy’s life ending in such a violent way. Running from the frustration that she hadn’t been able to save him.
Leaning against the cold cement wall just outside the door, she crossed her arms over her chest and fought back the sadness eating away at her.
“Jules?” Morgan touched her hair and she fought not to lean into his touch.
She glanced up at him. “I’m just so frustrated. I give everything I have to help these teenagers, I try to save them, point them in the right direction, and yet there’s a dead boy in there and I couldn’t do anything to prevent it and—”
“Hey, stop. You’re making it sound like it’s your job to save all of them. You didn’t even know that kid.”
“It doesn’t make it any less frustrating.” She faltered, glancing at the cement walkway. “To see him that way.”
“True, but it’s not your job to save the world, Jules. Talk about setting yourself up for failure. Come on, let’s swing by your apartment.”
With a nod,
They arrived at the medical examiner’s office in the Harborview Medical Center. Ethan Beck, a tall man with dark, cropped hair and sky-blue, eyes was waiting for them in the family lounge.
“Julie Burns, how are you?” Ethan extended his hand but Julie went in for a quick hug. Ethan had been a good influence on Morgan growing up, and she’d always be grateful to him.
“It’s good to see you,” she said. “Had I known you were aSeattle cop I would have come to you instead of running to Port Whisper.”
“What, and miss getting personal attention from a police chief?” he teased.
“Let’s ID the body,” Morgan said, irritation in his voice.
Ethan’s expression hardened. “Why don’t you have a seat in the family area. I’ll get the photograph.”
“You mean, I won’t have to actually see the body?” Julie asked, slightly relieved.
“No, wait here. I’ll get the medical examiner.”
As Ethan went down a long, gray hallway, Julie couldn’t help but remember Andy’s mischievous smile and determined attitude. He was a fighter, and she thought he’d changed his battleground. She’d thought he was fighting for a healthier, productive life.
Yet now his body, a shell empty of spirit and personality, most likely lay on a cold slab down the hall.
Hugging herself, she released a sigh.
“Jules?” Morgan said.
She glanced at him.
“It’ll be okay.”
She bit back a frustrated retort. If she heard “It’ll be okay” one more time, she was going to lose it and scream.
“Thanks,” she said.
Ethan walked toward them accompanied by a middle-aged woman in a white lab coat. She carried something in her hand: the photograph.
Julie’s pulse raced into her throat at the thought of what Andy would look like. They approached her and the woman offered a consoling smile. “He was beaten up pretty bad, but his face is identifiable. Are you ready?”
Julie nodded and Morgan put his arm around her for support. “You can do this.”
And she could, as long as Morgan stayed close.
The medical examiner held up the photograph…
FIVE
T he air rushed from Julie’s lungs.
She turned and buried her face against Morgan’s chest. “It’s not him.”
Relief warred with sadness as the image of the dead boy’s face seared into her brain. Bruised, broken, lifeless.
“It’s okay,” Morgan said, stroking her back. For a second the comforting gesture calmed her frantic heartbeat, then anger burned its way through her chest.
“It’s not okay, Morgan. He’s dead for no reason, and…and it’s all so ridiculously senseless.”
Julie walked away from the group and went outside.
“Jules,” Morgan called after her.
She couldn’t stop running, running from the image of death, the tragedy of a boy’s life ending in such a violent way. Running from the frustration that she hadn’t been able to save him.
Leaning against the cold cement wall just outside the door, she crossed her arms over her chest and fought back the sadness eating away at her.
“Jules?” Morgan touched her hair and she fought not to lean into his touch.
She glanced up at him. “I’m just so frustrated. I give everything I have to help these teenagers, I try to save them, point them in the right direction, and yet there’s a dead boy in there and I couldn’t do anything to prevent it and—”
“Hey, stop. You’re making it sound like it’s your job to save all of them. You didn’t even know that kid.”
“It doesn’t make it any less frustrating.” She faltered, glancing at the cement walkway. “To see him that way.”
“True, but it’s not your job to save the world, Jules. Talk about setting yourself up for failure. Come on, let’s swing by your apartment.”
With a nod,
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