Free Guilty by Norah McClintock Page B

her again, right?”
    â€œDidn’t you hear what I just said? She blew me off.”
    â€œYeah, but you’ve got to ask yourself—if she’s not interested, what was she doing at the funeral? Who shows up at the funeral of a complete stranger? I’ll tell you who—no one. Unless that person has already met one of the grieving family members—which you said she did, at the police station—and feels for that person, which I bet she does, because you said it yourself, she was there because her father died. Obviously he didn’t just drop dead of a heart attack. You don’t go to the police station for that. So it must have been something pretty bad. Maybe some grisly car accident. Maybe a hit-and-run. She’s obviously grieving, Finn. And she obviously sees you as some kind of kindred soul. That’s why she was at the funeral. If I were you—”
    I’m not listening to him. Instead, I’m thinking about the girl. She had a reason for being at Tracie’s funeral. I’m not sure what it is. I’d like to believe it was me, but maybe it wasn’t. No matter what that reason is, John’s right about what she must be going through. Her father died. And the fact that she was at the police station means it was something as traumatic as what I saw in my own yard. Maybe she came because she wanted to reach out to someone she thought might understand. And maybe she backed off because she’s shy, or she’s having a hard time, or whatever.
    â€œWhat if she hangs up on me again?”
    John crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you a man or what?”
    I think about that. “Maybe I’ll try her again.”
    â€œNo time like the present, my friend.”
    â€œI’ll do it later.”
    â€œMan up, Finn. Strike while the iron is hot. He who hesitates is lost. Carpe diem . Tempus —”
    â€œAll right. Jeez.” I dig my phone out of my pocket, find her number, hit the right button.
    The phone rings at the other end.
    No answer.
    No voice mail either, so I can’t even leave a message.
    â€œMaybe you should drop by her place.”
    â€œI don’t know where she lives.”
    â€œYou’re pathetic, you know that?” He puts his fork down and digs his own phone out of his pocket. “What’s her number?” he says. I tell him. He fiddles around with his phone. I can’t see what he’s doing. Then: “Murrich,” he says. “She lives on Murrich. 1833.”
    â€œHow do you—?”
    He turns his phone around, and I see the screen. He’s been on the Internet, doing a reverse number lookup.
    â€œBall’s in your court, dude,” he says.

Sixteen
    LILA
    I wake up the next morning feeling like all I want to do is sleep forever, mainly because I barely slept the night before. “Be careful what you wish for,” Aunt Jenny always says. What she means is, what you think you want doesn’t always turn out to be the thing you hope it’s going to be.
    Like going to The Siren the night before and finding someone who knew my father way back when. Hearing Dodo say, “How about this? Your daddy spent ten years in prison for something he never did.”
    I lie in bed, my covers up over my head. I remember the feeling when I heard him say those words. I remember my whole body being jarred, as if my heart slammed to a stop. I could barely speak.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I ask Dodo. I realize I’m holding my breath. I’m going to hear what I’ve ached to hear practically all my life.
    He looks me up and down.
    â€œYou seem like a nice girl,” he says. “You go to school?”
    I nod.
    â€œThat’s the best thing a young person can do—go to school. That way, maybe you don’t end up with a broom in your hand.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I ask him again. “About my father? Are you saying he didn’t do it?”
    He