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he
had killed her he’d be thinking about it right now, wouldn’t he?
    “Did you know her well?” he
asked, his voice soft and kind.
    I wasn’t sure how to respond to
that compassion. “Well enough that I didn’t want her murdered.” My voice came
out harsher than I’d intended. I was angry, angry that I was attracted to a guy
who could be a possible murderer, angry that I couldn’t read his thoughts,
angry that everyone in this school was more worried about their own pathetic
problems than the fact that a girl, a living, breathing girl, had died. I
didn’t know what I thought anymore.
    “Where do you go next?” I
murmured, contrite. After all, I didn’t know Lewis. Maybe he was just a normal
guy.  
    “English.”
    I frowned, finding it odd that
we were going to the same place. It didn’t matter, we had assigned seats. I’d
drop him off at the door and hopefully avoid him for the rest of the day. We
were silent as we walked slowly to class. My thoughts were in turmoil, rushing
this way and that in full panic mode. I practically oozed nervousness. But I
had a feeling he was completely in control of his own mind.
    “I’m sorry about your friend,”
he said and it seemed like he meant it, but did he?
    “It’s all right, you didn’t
know.” The bell rang and the halls emptied. We were alone. Completely alone.
The school grew quiet, the only sound the soft murmur of Teacher’s voices and
the buzz of the fluorescent lights above.
    “Do they have any suspects?” he
asked, his deep, smooth voice oddly calming.  
    “No,” I said, wondering why he
asked. But wondering more where he came from, why he was here and why the heck
I couldn’t read his thoughts.
    He paused near some benches and
sat, looking thoughtful as he stared at nothing in particular. I glanced
nervously down the hall at the classroom door. I’d always been a good girl,
never skipped class, always did my homework, didn’t smoke or drink…it felt odd
knowing I’d be late, as if I was on a path to ruination.  
    “What’s sad,” he started,
breaking into my thoughts. “Is that someone knows something.”
    I shrugged, feeling slightly
sick. “Yeah, the murderer. I’m sure he knows a lot.”
    He crossed his arms over his
chest, his biceps bulging. He was lean, but fit. “How do you know it’s a he?”
    Shoot. Heat shot straight to my cheeks. Because the voice in my head had been male. “Most likely.”
    He nodded slowly, his gaze on me
the entire time. I found myself shifting under the intensity of his scrutiny.
Did he believe me? “We really should get to class; the principal likes to roam
the halls.” It was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that.
    He grinned. “You don’t lie
well.”
    I stiffened, startled by his
blunt comment. “I’m not, I’m…”
    He arched a dark brow.
    I took a few steps back. My
brain felt muddled, my body buzzing with some unidentifiable emotion. “Fine, I
want to go to class, so sue me. Are you coming or not?”
    He didn’t respond for a few
moments, his gaze on the wall behind me, as if lost in thought. “Yes, of course
the murderer knows what happened.”
    I sighed. Was he going back to
that now? Why was he so interested in Savannah’s death? I pressed my fingers to
my throbbing temples and took a step back, intending to leave him then and
there. I had a feeling he was playing some odd game with me, and I’d never
liked games.
    “But what I meant,” he stood,
looming over me. “Was that usually there is someone else who knows what
happened. Someone too afraid to tell the truth. And because of that, a murderer
kills again, might even go free.”
    He didn’t look at me as he said
the words, but started down the hall. So why then, did I suddenly feel totally
guilty?  
    He turned, walking a few steps
backward. “It’s too bad we can’t, say, read minds.” He flashed a brilliant
smile as my heart slammed erratically against my chest. He hadn’t just said
those words. “Then perhaps