Free Dead Ringer by Sarah Fox Page B

that. Luckily, everyone still seemed oblivious to our conversation. “I don’t,” I said.
    Mikayla’s brown eyes widened. “But, what, the police do? Seriously?”
    â€œShh!” I admonished. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
    Mikayla mimed zipping her mouth shut. She raised her violin to her chin, but then lowered it to her lap again. “Hey, how do you know about this?”
    Heat rushed to my cheeks. I glanced around again to make sure no one was listening and then leaned over to whisper in her ear. “I was at his house when the police picked him up for questioning.”
    â€œAt his house?” Comprehension dawned on her face. “Midori! No way! You and—­”
    I shushed her again, frantically this time.
    Maestro? she mouthed, finishing her sentence.
    I didn’t reply, but my flushed cheeks provided enough of an answer.
    She stared at me. “I had no idea!”
    â€œYou weren’t supposed to,” I said.
    Her eyes narrowed again. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
    â€œI would have eventually. I mean, if things . . . progressed.”
    Mikayla shook her head, still surprised. Hans tapped his baton on his music stand and the orchestra fell quiet, one instrument at a time.
    â€œYou owe me details,” she said before focusing on the maestro.
    I sighed, but not because she now knew my secret. I was disappointed that I was no closer to clearing Hans’s name. I didn’t want to interrogate every member of the orchestra, because someone else would be bound to catch on to the fact that Hans was a suspect, just as Mikayla had. Plus, questioning everyone would take ages.
    Even though I’d promised JT that I’d avoid spending time alone with Hans for now, I knew I had to talk to him. Who better to tell me where he’d been during the break and whether anyone had seen him?
    As Hans told us that we would start the rehearsal with Symphony No. 2, I made up my mind. Before I left the church that evening, I would speak to him and ask the questions that burned away in the back of my mind.
    A S MUCH AS I enjoyed the rehearsal process and playing in the orchestra, it wasn’t easy for me to sit through the next hour. I had to force myself to concentrate as we worked our way through the movements of the symphony. At one point Hans cut us off mid-­piece to ream out the bass players for not knowing their part. I watched him as he lectured Clover and her companions, not hearing his words. I was too focused on his strong profile and his thick blond hair. I remembered the way his lips felt against mine, the butterflies he stirred up in my stomach.
    There was no way he could have harmed Jeremy. Was there?
    I hated that I doubted him. Even if I proved to myself that he was innocent, would my doubts eventually come between us in some way?
    I considered throwing caution to the wind and going to his place after rehearsal, to spend some time alone with him. But then I thought of JT and dismissed the idea. I could never break a promise to JT. Besides, I knew that my best friend was right: I should be careful, no matter how much I wanted to believe in Hans’s innocence. Once I was completely convinced that he was not the murderer, and once the police no longer suspected him, I could go back to enjoying his electric touch.
    By the time Hans told us to take a ten minute break, I was already up out of my seat. Mikayla shot me a curious look, but I didn’t wait around to talk to her, instead navigating my way through the chairs, music stands, and musicians.
    â€œI need to talk to you,” I said to Hans once I reached his side.
    He glanced around. A cellist and a clarinet player were heading our way, intent on speaking with the conductor too. Hans saw them coming and nodded at me. “Give me five minutes.”
    I stifled my frustration, knowing that the delay couldn’t be helped if I didn’t want others