Free The Confession by R.L. Stine

policeman saw me. But Hillary and I didn’t run. We made our way up the front lawn and caught up to him as he raised his hand to ring the doorbell.
    I recognized Officer Reed.
    â€œMy parents aren’t home!” I cried. A lie. It just burst out of me.
    I wanted him to go away. I didn’t want to answer any more questions.
    Officer Reed turned to face us. His bald head reflected the glow from the porch light. He wore a blue police uniform, the pants wrinkled, the jacket rumpled and stained at one elbow. He was bigger than I remembered. The uniform jacket stretched tight across his stomach. His dark tie slanted crookedly. He carried his uniform hat in one hand.
    I glanced at the pistol in a short brown holster at his waist. I wondered if he had ever shot anyone.
    â€œI was hoping to see you,” he said to me, after nodding at Hillary. “A few more questions.”
    â€œWell, my parents aren’t home,” I lied. “So I don’t think it would be a good idea.”
    Please, please go away .
    â€œI really shouldn’t talk to you if they aren’t here,” I continued.
    He blinked. Pursed his dry lips.
    And the front door swung open. My mom poked her head out. “I thought I heard voices,” she said, peering into the yellow porch light. When she spotted Officer Reed, her expression turned to alarm. “Is everything okay? Julie and Hillary—?”
    â€œI just came to ask a few more questions, Mrs. Carlson,” Officer Reed said, narrowing his eyes at me. “A couple of things to ask Julie, if it’s okay. I promise I’ll only stay a minute.”
    She stepped back to allow us to enter. She had a book in her hand. A Stephen King novel.
    How can she be reading horror for fun when my life is a horror novel? I thought.
    We settled in the living room. Mom took the chair in front of the window. She kept the book in her lap but folded her hands over it.
    Hillary and I sat down on opposite sides of the couch. Officer Reed pulled a pencil and small notepad from his shirt pocket. Then, with a grunt, he lowered his big body onto the ottoman in front of us.
    â€œHave you made any progress?” Mom asked the police officer from the window. “I mean, with the case.”
    He had his back to her. He turned his head. “A little. I think.”
    The words sent a cold stab of fear to my chest. Did he suspect Sandy? Were the police getting close to solving Al’s murder?
    He turned back to me. My hands were suddenly cold and clammy. I slid them under the couch cushion to warm them.
    â€œJulie, I had the feeling outside that you didn’t want to talk to me,” he said.
    â€œHuh?”
    I wasn’t expecting him to say that.
    He kept his eyes locked on me, waiting for me to give a better answer. “Is there any reason why you might want to avoid me?”
    â€œNo,” I replied, my heart pounding. “It’s just … well … it’s hard to keep being reminded of what happened.”
    He nodded. His eyes didn’t move from my face.“You’ve been back at school for a while. Your friends have probably been talking about the murder. You’ve probably heard some rumors, right?”
    He waited for me to reply, but I couldn’t think of anything to say.
    â€œHave you heard any rumors, Julie? Anything at all that you should share with me?”
    â€œListen, Officer Reed, forget about rumors. I can save you a lot of time and trouble. Al’s murderer was a boy in my class named Sandy Miller. He confessed to us all last week.”

Chapter
    16

    T hat’s what I wanted to say.
    That’s what I was dying to say!
    The words were ready to pour out of my mouth in a long stream, a cleansing stream.
    I’ll feel so much better if I tell him, I realized. If I tell him, it will be over. All the fear. All the worry. All the bad dreams.
    But could I do that to Sandy?
    No.
    Sandy had trusted us. Sandy had trusted