“Vigil?”

“Yes, the hospital is holding a special service, tomorrow afternoon at three. Everyone’s been grieving, and our administrator thought it would be a tribute to her and help us heal. It’s open to the public, too. She had so many friends, and the neighbors want to come.”

The younger nurse wiped her nose. “I don’t know how I’ll get through it.”

The older nurse put an arm around her. “You can do it, honey. You’ll do it for Gail.”

Christine’s chest tightened, seeing their pain, but she couldn’t forget her mission. “I know she lived on the second floor. Do you know who lived on the first?”

“Yes, an older woman. June Jacoby, she’s a sweetheart, just turned eighty. Gail always checked in on her. She had diabetes.”

“Do you know where she is?” Christine wondered if she would have seen or heard anything.

“She went to her sister’s in Atlanta. She was so sad about Gail, but she had to leave her apartment since the police taped it up as a crime scene.”

“I see. Do you know when she’ll come back?”

“No.” The older nurse shook her head, sadly. “Dink will have to get Gail’s things out of the apartment. She was her best friend.”

“Dink…?” Christine was fishing for the last name.

“It’s a nickname. We all work together in orthopedic surgery. Dink’s a wreck. A wreck.”

“I’m sure.” Christine made a mental note of the nickname. “I read that Gail wasn’t married. Did she have a boyfriend?”

“No, she didn’t,” the older nurse answered.

“She didn’t?” Christine allowed her voice to reflect her surprise. “She was such a beautiful woman. I’m surprised she wasn’t seeing anyone.”

“She did about three years ago, but he was killed in Iraq and she never got over it.”

“Oh no,” Christine said, caught short. She was getting a fuller picture of Gail Robinbrecht, who must have been trying to regain her emotional footing after a terrible loss. It made the nurse’s murder all the more poignant because, by all accounts, she seemed like the type of woman who would have gotten back on track, in time.

“She was so dedicated and she spent a lot of time with us and with her other friends. She was a really great girlfriend. Anything you needed, she would be there.”

“It’s nice to have a girlfriend like that.” Christine was thinking of Lauren. “I was here with my best friend on Saturday. I couldn’t get through life without her.”

“That’s what I always say.” The older nurse nodded with a game smile. “I tell my husband, ‘marriage may not be forever, but girlfriends are’ an—” She caught herself mid-sentiment, realizing the irony only belatedly.

“Still,” Christine said quickly, “girlfriends are forever. People are forever. We never lose the people we love.”

“That’s true.” The older nurse looked over at the younger one, who began to tear up again.

“I’ll leave you alone, I have to keep going anyway. Good-bye.” Christine walked away stiffly, burdened with a guilt that she couldn’t identify. She walked to 307, the last house on Warwick, which had a red-lacquered front door, black shutters, and a wreath of dried flowers on the front door. She knew someone was home because she could hear children giggling on the other side of the door. She knocked, and the door was opened by an adorable Indian-American girl, with dark eyes and eyelashes for miles.

“Hi!” she said with a big smile, and Christine smiled back.

“Hi, is your mommy or daddy home?”

“Emma, don’t answer the door!” someone called out in mild alarm, and the next moment, a woman rushed to the door, presumably Emma’s mother, taking the little girl gently by the shoulder and placing her protectively behind her. The mother was a short, slender Indian-American woman in a gray Penn T-shirt with cutoff shorts, who blew a dark tendril of curly hair from her eyes. “Hello. How can I help you?”

“Sorry to disturb you.” Christine introduced herself, handed over the business card, and told the same cover story.

“Hello, my name is Jerri Choudhoury.”

“I’m wondering if you heard or saw anything unusual the night Linda Kent was killed?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did you hear her scream or even fall? This would be Sunday, around midnight.”

“No. I must say, I’m sure there’s no basis for a negligence lawsuit.” Jerri shook her head. “You can ask any of the neighbors, Linda had a drinking problem and I’m sure that’s why she fell. I didn’t allow the children around her for that reason. Her language was often inappropriate. She used to scare my little boy. You probably know, she didn’t work. She was on disability, for her back, or so she said.”

Christine made a mental note. “Were you home the night she had her accident?”

“With two young children?” Jerri chuckled ruefully. “Of course. My husband and I never go anywhere. If we didn’t have On Demand, we would never see a movie, and we never get to watch the entire show.”

Christine smiled, not bothering to explain that she prayed for that very life. “But you didn’t hear anything?”

“No, we were asleep. My husband uses a sound machine.”

“By the way, my condolences on the loss of your neighbor, Gail Robinbrecht. That must be so upsetting.”

“Horrifying!” Jerri’s dark eyes flew open, and she leaned closer to Christine, lowering her voice. “It’s horrifying to think that a serial killer struck so near. If they hadn’t caught him, I’d never have slept again.”

“I’m sure.” Christine had her standard last question. “By the way, did you notice anything unusual that night, out back of Gail Robinbrecht’s house?”

“Not that night, but I told the police what I saw.”

“What did you see?” Christine asked, keeping her tone light.

“I saw the serial killer,” Jerri answered, eager to share. “The one they arrested!”

“You did? What was he doing?” Christine let her face show the surprise she felt.

“I saw him going up the back stairs to Gail’s apartment on the Thursday before she was murdered.”