The Day Hope was Murdered

3. Two Liars

     Still no response.

     I try a different approach. "Why won't you answer me?"

     His response is immediate. "Well, according to the Constitution of the United States of America, freedom of speech is legalized and therefore, I have both the right to speak and the right to not speak as I choose. Right now, I choose the latter."

     Could he be any more complicated? Obviously I'm not going to get any information out of him, so I decide to think. Focusing all my energies on this one task, I imagine the repeated dream I've had. Blurriness. Hope calling for help. A deep voice saying "stay here." More blurriness.

     Wait . . . something is not right. Mentally taking a step back, I imagine the deep voice. I imagine the tone of it and one very poignant realization strikes me.

     The voice in my dream is a different one than the voice of the man in front of me.

     It could just be my memory twisting things, but this is the last straw there is to grasp on. Could it really be possible that the man in front of me didn't murder Hope? He definitely doesn't seem like the murdering type, but what do I know?

     I pull the straw. "Did you actually kill Hope?"

     His face twists into a mask of confusion. "Whose hope would I want to kill?"

     "Hope as in my sister . . ."

     Realization dawns across his features, and he speaks quickly. "Oh yeah, of course I did. I already told you this. Why do you keep asking?"

     "I somehow get the feeling that you're lying. Which makes no sense, because why would anyone ever lie about killing someone?" I pause. "Why would anyone purposefully take the blame for something they didn't do? It makes no sense. And the fact that you just had no idea what I meant when I said Hope only adds to my doubt."

     The room grows quite quiet as one family leaves the room.

     "Well, I . . .  um, I'm not lying, I can tell you that. I wish I was, but the truth is, I," He looks away, "killed your sister. She's dead because of me. Now is there a reason for you coming here or . . . "

     "Yes," I respond. "I'd like to know who killed my sister, and why you're covering for them. Were you blackmailed or something? I know you weren't there that day. And plus, you're too honest to be a killer."

     "I already told you. I killed your sister."

     Man, is he annoying. I am now one-hundred and ten percent sure he is lying. "Just stop. Tell me the truth. Nobody will know you did." I motion around me now to the empty seats surrounding us. Nobody can hear what we're talking about, not that they'd like to. "I could even help you get out of here. We both know you're not being honest so just please, tell the truth. Hope is gone, and her murderer needs punished." At this point, I'm begging. "He or she is still out there, maybe even killing more people. Please, just tell me who they are. And if you're right, I swear I'll get you outta here."

     And alas, he gives in. "Okay, fine. I'll tell you."

     I smile triumphantly.

     "But first, you have to promise me not to mention this to anyone. And by that, I mean absolutely nobody. And second, you can't act on the information I give to you. No chasing after the murderer. He's dangerous... extremely dangerous. Got it?" He asks.

     "Um... yeah, sure. Of course." I didn't even hear what he said. "Now, please, tell me all you know."

     He gives a sly grin, before starting his tale. "About a year ago, I was confronted by a man. At the time, I had never met him before and he was a complete stranger. This man came-"