The volume steadily increased, echoing in the open space, and Treya turned in her pew to catch a glimpse of the incoming flow. She had to catch her breath as, almost directly behind her, she recognized Abe Glitsky and -she had a hard time even believing the gall of it – the lawyer, Hardy, who'd been in the courtroom representing Elaine's killer.

The lieutenant seemed as disconcerted to see her as she was to see him. He put out a hand, stopping Hardy, then nodded. Now abreast of her, he halted. 'Is this pew reserved?'

In somber and measured strides, Gabriel Torrey walked up the center aisle and slowly mounted the lectern to the left of the altar at the front of the cathedral. The dying strains of the string quartet's powerful arrangement of 'Amazing Grace' still seemed to hang in the air. The Chief Assistant District Attorney wore a charcoal Armani suit, a white shirt with a black silk tie. His left lapel sported a little red AIDS ribbon, his right a tiny red rose.

For a short while, he gathered himself. When he was ready, he raised his head and looked out over the enormous congregation – more than five hundred souls were seated in the pews and standing behind them and to both sides, filling in all the space to the far walls.

After adjusting the microphone, he spoke with a quiet, even intimate familiarity, his voice firm and evenly pitched. This is a remembrance,' he began.

Midway through the service, she couldn't take it anymore. Suddenly, she stood, walked the length of the pew away from Glitsky, and strode for the back door of the cathedral. Outside, the cold sunlight glare stopped her, and she stood on the steps, blinking, drawing gulps of air.

'Are you all right?'

She turned, knowing who it was. He'd followed her out.

Her hand went to her neck, her hair. She started down the steps before her eyes had adjusted, stumbled. He was right with her and caught her by the arm, preventing her from falling. As soon as she recovered and realized he was still holding her, she all but shook off his hand. Immediately, he let go and stepped back. 'Are you all right?' he repeated.

'I'm fine. Fine.' She straightened up. 'I don't need your help.'

'No. It's just that you… I thought you might faint.'

'I don't faint. I've never fainted in my life.' Shaking her head, she spun for a moment back toward the cathedral's doors, then took another step away from them, toward the park. Getting away. Finally, her breath hitched, and she focused on him. 'I can't believe you came here. I think it's appalling.'

He backed away a step.

But she wasn't through yet. 'And your friend, that's a great touch. Elaine's killer's lawyer. What's that all about, him being here? This is supposed to be for her friends, for the people who miss her, not for… not for somebody like him. And you.' Having said her piece, she was done. 'Goodbye, Lieutenant.' She started down the steps again.

Glitsky didn't know what he was doing. Not exactly. He certainly hadn't planned to move into her row in the church, to sit next to her.

To follow her out.

Now she was telling him goodbye again, dismissing him, and he was following after her. 'Ms Ghent. Please.'

After a few steps, she slowed and came to a stop. Her shoulders heaved in a deep sigh and when she turned to face him, he noticed that her nostrils had flared in anger or frustration or both. Hip-shot, she crossed her arms. 'What?'

'I'm going to need to look at Elaine's files.'

He really didn't know what he was doing now. There was no way on earth he could look through Elaine's files. He was on administrative leave. He couldn't get a warrant. It was ridiculous even to suggest it. But suddenly he knew what he had to do. The police – his own police department – weren't going to look. It was going to come to him to lock down this case. And Elaine's files were the best place to begin.

'Haven't we been through this? Didn't I just see Cole Burgess arraigned the other day for her murder?' She took a breath. 'Look, I know those files and he's not in them, OK? She didn't know him.'

'I'm not saying she did.'

'So what are you saying?'

He realized that he'd been seeing her face since the last time he'd been with her. Now he raised his eyes, looking out behind her. He had to take off the gloves and he didn't want to see the effect it would have on her features. 'The first thing is I'm wondering why you're so hostile.'

Now he did meet her eyes. A cold, empty stare came back at him.

He ignored it. 'Normally, somebody's so hostile to the police, we wonder why that might be.'

Her reaction, if she had one at all, seemed to be a greater depth of loathing. If Glitsky thought intimidation would affect her, he was dead wrong. She set her jaw, narrowed her eyes in disparagement. 'What's the second thing?'

'The second thing…' He wrestled with it internally. 'The second thing is I'm not absolutely, positively beyond any doubt sure that we have the bastard that killed Elaine. And I've got to be sure of that.'

'And get, what do you call it, the collar? Another feather in your cap.'

Surprised at this direction, he shook his head. 'I don't care about that.' Another short pause. 'I cared about Elaine.'

This time she snapped back at him. 'And that's why you're here at this memorial, aren't you? Because you care. Because you were her friend.' She was in a high fury, her eyes threatening to spill over. 'And that's why you brought your friend with you, I suppose. Because you both care so much. Well, let me tell you something. It's pretty damn transparent and it makes me sick.'

'What is? What are you talking about?'

'I'm talking about your pretending to be close to Elaine so maybe witnesses will talk to you.'

Glitsky was rocked by her vehemence. He held his hands out, supplicating. 'I don't even have any witnesses. And even if I did, why would I do that? I couldn't care less if witnesses like me. You never get a witness who likes you. And who cares? They talk if you can make them.' He didn't realize it consciously, but the habits of twenty years were kicking in. He was a cop. This was turning into an interrogation. 'What I want to know,' he said, 'is why you don't want to talk to me. You were Elaine's friend, co-worker, maybe confidante. And yet you don't want to help me make sure about who killed her. I wonder about that.'

She challenged him with her expression, spoke into his face. 'I don't believe you. How about that? I don't believe anything you say. You didn't care about her then, and you don't now.' She moved forward, almost close enough to kiss him. 'She knew,' she whispered hoarsely. 'About you. Don't you understand? Her own father, her real father. And you never acknowledged her, never even tried.'

Glitsky's mouth opened to defend himself. But there was no defense and no words came.

Treya kept at him. 'And she didn't dare approach you. Big, tough, hard-ass homicide lieutenant with the big sign saying "Keep away. Everybody keep away". And you're trying to tell me you cared? Well excuse me, but I was there, I saw how much you cared. How much it hurt her. How you broke her heart.'

Glitsky was a stone embedded in the pavement. Behind them, the doors opened and the strains of the string quartet floated out. A lone trumpet played a mournful solo, piercing the morning air. Finally, Glitsky turned as the first mourners appeared.

There was a tingling sensation in his face and then, on its heels, a great, almost unendurable pressure in his chest. He turned back to Treya Ghent, the beautiful outrage, the righteous indignation.

He opened his mouth again, and again no words came. His own heart felt as though it was exploding. Pain shot out through his limbs and he felt himself falling, crumbling.