Between the Spirit and the Dust

Chapter Nine

Usually, potential witnesses were interviewed one-on-one but today, we’d decided to try things a little differently. Collins was just going to throw a question out to the rest of the class and Evie and me were supposed to read what they were thinking. 

Of course Collins didn’t know that that’s what we were doing. I think Evie had convinced him that we were some kind of behavioural psychologist specialists or something fancy like that. And although he’d narrowed his eyes when she gave off her spiel about how each body has its “tells” when people were lying, he didn’t contradict her. 

And so, Collins was going through the routine list of questions: whether Isobel Hawthorne had mentioned a new friend lately, whether anyone had any reason to believe that she had been stalked before her disappearance and whether Isobel had seemed different from normal.

It was definitely a lot harder trying to read an entire roomful of people as compared to when it was just Max. For one thing, I couldn’t have physical contact with every single person in the class. And for another, because there were so many people I had to really concentrate to figure out which thought belonged to whom.

The images and feelings that I was getting was a lot fuzzier than what I’d gotten with Max too. With Max, it had been like watching a movie in a high definition television. In this classroom, it felt like I was peering at a black and white television screen that constantly flickered and changed the channels by themselves. 

I was getting such a huge headache from this.

Collins finally reached the last question and asked, “Just to double-check on this, was this class the last time that everyone saw Isobel?” 

A huge wave of guilt and regret nearly knocked me off my feet and I steadied myself by trying to causally lean against the teacher’s table. I felt the beads of sweat forming on my forehead as I tried to isolate the source of those emotions while noticing that Evie didn’t look too steady on her feet either. 

There were two people in this room that felt extremely guilty. They were Sophia Jones, Isobel’s tutor and Helena Davis, the first girl who had spoken when we entered our classroom. I understood Sophia Jones’s self-reproach; she’d pretty much just come out and proclaimed that she felt horrible earlier on. 

But I didn’t understand what Helena Davis had to feel bad for.

The rest of the class was busy answering Collins’ question but Helena was completely silent. In fact, she was sitting ramrod straight in her seat and was busy drawing figure eights on her table with her finger rather than paying attention to what was going on around her. 

I inclined my head towards Helena’s direction and Evie nodded, signaling that she had gotten the same read as I had. 

Collins noted our reaction as well and rounded up the discussion by saying, “Alright, those are all the questions that we have for you today. If you remember something important later on and you want us to know, you can contact us through this number.”

I helped hand out copies of his name-card around the classroom. When my fingers brushed Helena’s, I could feel the residual regret wafting off of her but I couldn’t get anything else. I tried to reach a little further and I could definitely sense that there was something else there but I just couldn’t read her properly. 

“If you’ve got any questions, you can also stay behind and ask us. If not, you’re free to go,” continued Collins. 

Some members of the class lingered about and went up to Evie and Collins to ask their questions. The others rushed off, probably heading to another class or maybe just desperate to get away from a place that reminded them too much of a dead classmate. Nobody spoke to me, maybe because it was obvious to all of them that I was an amateur at this.