CHAPTER 1
Meg removed the magazine from the black handle of her GLOCK 27. Pulling back the slide ejected the one hollow point round from the chamber. She placed the one round with the fully loaded magazine in the wooden box before securely locking them and the weapon in her closet. The .40-caliber was not something any woman would choose for a personal protection handgun. Then again, Megan Emily Swift wasn't just any woman, and she didn't take too kindly to the stereotype. At age twenty-four, she fulfilled many of her dreams. She had few regrets. The one milestone in life, which seemed to escape her, wasn't on her bucket list. She knew very well the clock was ticking and had all but given up on a sustainable, rewarding relationship. Everywhere she looked and everything she read, led to the same life fulfillment: a house, a husband, two-and-one-half kids, and living comfortably on two incomes in the suburbs of a city. Megan was not--and never had been--the typical woman. She had grown up in a non-typical household. Her mother and father had saved for years to get her into a college of her choice. They knew early on their little girl was gifted. Their hopes and dreams for their daughter came with lots of hard work, sacrifice and many prayers. They wanted for her whatever she wanted for herself. They were the best parents Megan could have dreamed of having. Being an only child meant she didn't have to compete as hard as those children in two-and-one-half-kid families. Megan did well in high school--very well. Her brains got her into the flagship University of Missouri, MU; then ultimately, Missouri University School of Law. Although they wanted her to spread her own wings and find her niche, it appeared she too, would follow in her parents' footsteps by becoming an attorney. Like any teen just out of high school, she had the world figured out. Her parents taught her to stand on her own two feet and think for herself. She was strong-willed, and it served her well. She never experienced the bullying like many kids did. It was never a question of why. She was tough--not just on the inside, but on the outside as well. She stood up for herself and for others who seemed to not find their own voice. Both of her parents were athletes, and Megan held up the family tradition. Although she could never dunk a basketball with just one hand, she could wrap fingers around the rim and box out any foe inside the paint who thought she was meager. She was a force to be reckoned with. She got her five-foot ten frame from both her parents. Her blue-hazel eyes were mesmerizing. Women envied her shoulder length, naturally curly, brunette hair. It was the blonde highlights and athletic physique that caught the eye of both men and women. It was her athletic ability that got her noticed by all those who either read the sports page of the local paper or attended one of the school's games. Her athleticism didn't capture the attention of any Ivy League scouts, as the small southwest Missouri town never seemed to warrant any prospective sport heroes. She had grown up most of her life answering to the name of "Meg". Her name, shortened by her parents, stuck through high school, college, and her post graduate pursuit in Columbia. She liked her name, and her life was on track.
Then came one, memorable, warm, spring day. While in class, her professor got a message handed to him from his administrative assistant, Shirley McPherson. Unbeknownst to Meg, that message would change her life forever. The interruption came at a time when all ears hung on every syllable uttered from the professor's lips. The class of twenty-eight students was focused. Their attendance in class hadn't been mandatory. It wasn't on this day either; however, this professor had a reputation of "tell all" when it came to what's expected on exams. Finals were fast approaching, and Meg was on track for another stellar academic year. She was already being offered an internship at a prestigious law firm. Her fall semester looked promising, with one foot in the door for what hoped to be a rewarding law career. Not that passing the bar would be easy, but she was confident in her abilities; her professors had repeatedly rewarded her with praises of future accolades.
There was a noticeable pause in the class instruction, and all eyes were on the professor. Dr. Theodore "Ted" Morris had more letters of the alphabet behind his name than many of his colleagues. His knowledge of law, coupled with his wittiness, made his courses popular with students. He had been interrupted by his assistants before, so students were used to a few minor breaks in discussions. This one was different. Dr. Morris seemed taken back. He stared at the note as if it were in a different language.
He looked up at the class and uttered the words, "Excuse me."
His monotone was almost a whisper. If it weren't for the wireless microphone pinned to his shirt collar, the class would not have heard him. He turned and left the room. A hush came over the class. This was a first. Everyone was intent on his every word. Each student was mindfully aware their success depended on how they interpreted the instructed content for the upcoming final. Being absent in class during the year wasn't a death sentence, provided each written exam was thoughtfully and thoroughly completed. After a seemingly exhaustive delay, Dr. Morris reentered the room. He was noticeably shaken. It was as if a client had failed to tell him a critical point for a successful defense, and the prosecution was aware of the omission. He glanced up, looking directly at Meg. He then appeared to scan across the tiered rows of seating as if looking for an answer to a question from a specific student. But it was obvious. He had locked eyes way too long with Meg, and the class of brilliant observant minds also caught the glare. Meg's stomach fluttered as she, too, noticed the obvious.
"Sorry for the interruption class, where were we?"
He stumbled through his notes as if he wasn't prepared. He was always prepared.
"Analytical separation from the accused client's charge," Meg quipped with a nervous stutter.
She couldn't get past the lingered glance from Dr. Morris following his return to the classroom. She was caught off guard.
Meg sat on the second-row seat, center stage as she always did. It wasn't by accident that Dr. Morris knew where Meg sat. It was as if she was supposed to have known she would have been called upon to help bring back the previous awkwardness of class interruption.
She could always be counted on to interject with an answer. Others did, as well, throughout the academic year as if it were a contest. Meg held her own, and classmates were consciously aware of how talented she was in grasping the subject matter. For her, it was like sitting home at the kitchen table bantering with her parents following a report on the evening news. There would be deep discussions of the guilt or innocence of someone arrested and charged with a serious crime.
Dr. Morris found his place, but he was off his game. He wasn't as sharp as he always seemed to be. He was no longer poised with perfection. It wasn't like him and the class was painfully aware. He glanced at the clock at the back of the room.
"Class dismissed; I'll see you all Monday."
Normally, class was held to the top of the hour, especially this close to finals. Out thirty minutes early was awarding college students to go enjoy the weekend early on a Friday. It was a Friday; and Meg was planning on taking in some of the three-game, SEC women's, softball tournament with Texas Tech. This was another sport in which Meg had found prowess. She liked the physical challenge of basketball, where she could show her strength and competitiveness.
"Meg Swift, please stop by my office before you leave today."
Dr. Morris' voice came clearly through the speaker system. He had always called her Meg. His inclusion of her last name made it seem official, far too official. The wrestling of notebooks and students gathering up their belongings seemed to hush, if only for a second. It seemed as if all eyes were on her, and they were. The complete class looked at her with wondering eyes. It was obvious--the note, the class delay, and interruption were all about her. This seemed urgent. No time for emails forwarded from instructors to students. This was personal.
CHAPTER 2
Megan sat in the plush, elegant office. The chair folded around her like a warm, gentle blanket. There was one problem with that feeling, she couldn't get comfortable. It wasn't the seat; it was the occasion. How could she sit comfortably waiting for the unknown? She had been there previously for counseling visits regarding her progress, or lack of it. Other students in his class were asked to visit with him as well. This was the first time, however, that she had ever been invited into his office without him being there. Dr. Morris's assistant seemed distant. She hadn't been that way before, and Meg sensed it was intentional. Her eyes were averted; there was busy work, and her typing on the computer keyboard appeared intentional to avoid conversation. Her suggestion for Meg to enter Dr. Morris' office and to wait for him was a sign — and not a good one. It all seemed odd, although she tried to sit comfortably in the exquisite surroundings.
There were reasons for all things, and she was totally convinced of that. Her moral compass was rock solid, and people who were acquainted with her were comfortable with that fact. Nothing was comfortable about where she was, and she was anxious about Dr. Morris wanting to see her. Meg knew her grades were good, and she had hoped this upcoming final would sustain her perfect four-point standing.
She was almost startled when Dr. Morris rounded his desk to sit down. She hadn't heard him enter. Her mind was focused on the unknown. She gave him her familiar smile that would melt any person who was on the receiving end. It took years for Meg to realize she was beautiful. Megan knew of her inner beauty, but she was naïve to her other attributes.
It was, in part, those attributes that made what Dr. Morris had to tell her so difficult. It was because of her intellectual prowess that it was much harder. Her world was going to be turned upside down.
"I don't know how to tell you this, Meg. I got a call from the campus police this afternoon."
"Was that the note Shirley brought you?" Meg quickly responded. "I knew it had something to do with me. But let me explain, it wasn't me who put shaving cream on Stephen's car. I saw some of the guys before class today, and they were all laughing about it, and said the word was out that I did it. They were joking of course. My apartment is off campus, and I wouldn't drive to town and on campus just for a prank."
Meg's nervous smirk quickly turned neutral. She could tell he was serious and she was rambling.
"Meg, let me explain. Campus police called to say they were contacted by the Greene County Sheriff's Department."
"Sheriff Macintyre? I haven't seen him in years. How's he doing?"
Dr. Morris let Meg continue until she realized she was nervously babbling again. She paused to let him continue. Her nerves were causing a nauseous feeling, something she hadn't experienced in years. The last time was her senior year in high school during the championship basketball game. It was overtime, and the game was on the line.
"Meg, are you OK?" Dr. Morris noticed the blank stare in her eyes. She was staring at the shingles behind him on his wall. She was not herself, and he knew it was quickly going to get worse.
"Yes, Dr. Morris. I'm fine. You were saying you talked to Sheriff Macintyre."
"I talked with the campus police. It was they who spoke with the Greene County Sheriff's Department. Meg, I have some very bad news to tell you."
He watched Meg's face turn pale. He had never been given the task of telling a student news of this magnitude. He usually had sent warnings through email regarding their failing grades or missed assignment deadlines. It was during the counseling sessions he often recommended students change majors or perhaps withdraw from his courses. Some students just didn't have the intellect to pursue their lofty dreams. It bothered him to inform them of those facts. Most students were relieved with the options they were presented. Their college careers would still be intact. He wasn't sure about Meg's after today.
"This is the most difficult thing I've ever had to do," the professor continued. He knew he couldn't mince words. He had to deliver the message in simple words.
"Earlier this afternoon, your mom and dad were both killed in a traffic accident."
He continued to explain what had been relayed to him as to what occurred. He knew she would want to know details of what happened. Before returning to the classroom from the unintended break, he had his administrative assistant compile the contact names and phone numbers of those who could possibly answer the questions he couldn't. He reached out to Meg, holding the information on a notepad only to place it on his desk. She hadn't heard much more of what he had told her.
Dr. Morris called for Shirley to come into his office. He had warned her of the probability Meg would need consoling. He was right. What person, as close to their parents as Meg had been, could hold it together after learning of their deaths? An illness is one thing, but a traffic accident resulting in untimely loss of life is incomprehensible.
He left his office allowing his assistant and Meg to be alone. It was heartbreaking. He could hear Meg sobbing uncontrollably in his office. It was not going to be a day soon forgotten, not by a long shot. After a short while, which seemed like hours, his assistant came from his office and quietly closed the door. She wanted to give Meg some time to be alone with her thoughts before leaving. Dr. Morris then began to wonder if the crying he heard was all Meg's. Shirley was obviously upset and had been crying as well. It was somber. No one spoke but just sat waiting for Meg to come out of Dr. Morris' office. It was almost as if the lingering moment had frozen in time.
The door slowly opened as if it was being pulled by a draft from an adjacent door or open window. She stepped out and slowly walked to the office entrance doorway before stopping when Dr. Morris called to her.
"Meg, is there anything I or my office can do for you?"
"It's 'Megan.' My name is 'Megan.' My mom and dad called me 'Meg;' my name is 'Megan.' I would appreciate you calling me by my name."
CHAPTER 3
It had been only a few months since that dreadful day when Megan's world was turned upside down. She'd come a long way from picking up the shattered pieces. She miraculously passed her final exams, although there wasn't a professor who thought there was a possibility otherwise. The stress of losing her parents and the wanting to not disappoint them caused a near emotional breakdown. Her extended family, whom she had never really known, immediately reached out to her. She realized, however, it was for financial gain rather than bloodline that brought them to her aid. Megan's parents had multiple life insurance policies in her name and her name only.
Unbeknownst to her, she was financially sound. Her parents made sure of that, although she had no idea until a visit from a family friend. Brian Finch, the bank loan officer, had been a friend of her parents for many years. He came by to pay his respects one week after the services – so she thought. Megan couldn't remember his name and barely recognized him at all. Why would she, he just worked at the bank? She had her debit card, and there were no faces attached to the plastic she carried. It was only a form of unlimited cash to her. He came to explain to her the beneficiary addendum to the life insurance policies. She would never have to work a day in her life. With that in mind, she was tormented with the thought of something happening to her. It became too much to handle. She found herself sinking deeper and deeper into a world she hadn't recognized before that dreadful spring day that seemed like so long ago.
Perhaps she shouldn't have gone to the scene of the accident. She had to know for herself and see why her world had changed forever. Her fragile state, compounded with not understanding the "why", left her near the brink of disaster. She learned exactly where and what happened on that lone four-lane road in rural Greene County, Missouri. Self-consciously, she knew she needed closure. Going to the scene of the crash would help with that. She learned a simple tire deflation caused her world to fall apart.
