Free Slain by Livia Harper Page A

in the changing room? I can’t be sure.
    “But that’s for the police to figure out. What’s important right now is that we get all the facts. “He gives me his most stern look. “I understand you were alone at the time of the murder? In one of the Kid’s Korner bathrooms?”
    “Yes.”
    “Now, Emma, this is the time for complete honesty. And I’m sorry, but that just doesn’t make any sense at all.”
    “But it’s true.” I’m defensive because it’s not true, not at all. If I admit I lied about this, it will make me look so much guiltier. It feels like he knows I’m lying so I stick to the lie harder, force him to believe. I can see it’s not working.
    “Why would you do that?”
    “I just…,” I sniffle, for real, frustrated with all of this. I had nothing against June, and I had nothing to do with her death, so why should I have to explain myself like this?
    “I get overwhelmed sometimes. And I was feeling sick because I ate too much at the ball and then slammed a Red Bull. It had been a long day, and everyone was there, and I just wanted a few minutes to myself. Sometimes I go up there to be alone. No one’s ever there during youth group stuff.” Some of this is true, and I’m hoping it will make the not-true bits sound true too.
    “The thing is, and they haven’t made this common knowledge just yet, but they think they have you gone from the party for more than a few minutes. They think it was nearly two hours.”
    “That can’t be right,” I say. It is right.
    Mr. Graham seems to soften a bit. “I think I understand, but do you understand how it looks to the police? What would help, what would really help, is if you saw anything while you were away from the Youth Center.”
    “I can’t think of anything.”
    “Any weird sounds or lights on where they shouldn’t be? Anything out of place? Any cars driving around in the parking lot?”
    Then I remember the noise. I remember feeling like someone was there, watching me. Watching us. But what can I say? I was supposed to be across the entire church from where I saw them. What if I said something about it and made it harder to find who really did it?
    “No. Nothing.”  
    “This is ridiculous,” Dad says. “Why should Emma have to defend herself here? It’s like they’re not even considering her as anything but a suspect.”
    “At least she’s still a minor,” Mr. Graham says. My birthday is on May 31, five weeks away. “They can’t question her without your presence until she’s eighteen, which is good. You did the right thing calling me. I don’t want you talking to anyone about any of this without me there. Anyone, okay?”  
    I nod.  
    “No texting, no calls, no friends, no outside family, no teachers, and especially no police. They show up for ‘just a quick chat’ you call me, got it?”
    “Yes, sir.” I can see that he likes it when I call him sir. He was worried before, but now I’m the girl he always thought I was. Polite, contrite, spotless.  
    “Your job is to stay quiet until this all gets cleared up. Keep your normal routine, though. We don’t want you to look like you have anything to hide. Go to school, go to church, then go home.”
    “Yes, sir,” I say. He beams.
    “We’re not going to let anything bad happen to you, sweetheart, okay? You’re a good kid, and everybody at church knows that. You have nothing to worry about.”
    Only I am worried.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

    A T SUNDOWN THAT NIGHT is June’s vigil. There are over a thousand people there, holding candles in silent respect of June. Most of them I don’t know. There are a lot of reporters, a lot of cameras, and a lot of what I suspect are strangers coming out to gawk at tragedy. They all feel like intruders, like gossips holding cups to our door so they can listen to our pain and feed off it.
    I look around until I spot the people I do know. Mike and Paige are standing near the front, where someone has set up the cross we danced around at