The sound of my shoes clicking in the floor was loud and echoed through the empty halls. I was making my way toward Mr. Miller's classroom to get information for the investigation. I had decided that the best plan of action was to first set up a meeting with Mr. Miller to get some extra help in math, and then wait for him to leave the room and go through his desk again in search of the picture of his wife. I was convinced that the tattooed arrow on her arm was identical to the one that had been sliced into Sophie's skin, but I needed to be a hundred percent sure before I pointed the finger at him.
It wasn't going to be hard to wait for Mr. Miller to leave the room. He was one of those teachers who trusted his students, and would periodically leave to print papers, scan answer sheets, buy sodas from the teacher's lounge vending machine, and more. The only hang up that I had about this plan was that I was going to actually do some math to make it seem like I had really set up the meeting because I wanted to raise my grade. I hated Math, and I hope I never had to use Calculus in real life otherwise I'd be screwed.
Before entered the classroom I took a deep breath to prepare myself. I was nervous for three reasons. The first being that I might get caught, the second being that Mr. Miller was Sophie's murderer, and the third being a combination of the two. In case Mr. Miller was the one who had killed Sophie, I had told Mason, John, and my parents that I was going to be staying after with Mr Miller. I had even made sure that I stopped and said hello to the ladies in the main office and casually let it slip that I was going to Mr. Miller's classroom to study for an upcoming test. I wasn't taking any chances. I was going to be safe, whether Mr. Miller turned out to be the killer and attacked me in his classroom or not. This way, I had everyone knowing where I was so that if I ended up like Sophie, Mr. Miller couldn't say that I never arrived. I smiled to myself. I had thought of everything, even if I was being paranoid.
Once I entered the classroom, I glanced at Mr. Miller who was sitting at his desk, with his glasses pushed up on the bridge of his nose as he looked down at his desk. He hadn't looked up from what he was doing when I had entered the room, so I said, "Thank you for staying after with me, Mr. Miller," as I made me way to a desk near the front of the room to have a seat.
After I had made my presence known, Mr. Miller looked up and made eye contact with me. "You are very welcome, Miss. Hale. Did you bring all of you past tests and assignments."
I nodded my head in response to his question.
"Good, I'll be with you in a moment. I need to finish grading the 'show your work' part on these tests and then take them to the scantron machine afterwards. I've made a worksheet for you to work on that is comprised of questions from the past tests." When I didn't make any attempt to move, he waved his hand, gesturing for me to come to him. "Well, come and get it," he directed.
I stood up and hurried to the front of the room to retrieve my worksheet from him. I nearly groaned when I saw how many pages were stapled together, but I held it in and made my way back to my desk. Once I was there, I made a big show of pulling out all of my previous tests, worksheets, my calculator, and a pencil. I wanted him to think that I was serious, and make him feel comfortable enough not to have to rush back to the room after he left.
Mr. Miller continued grading the tests on his desk for another fifteen minutes while I worked on, and struggled, with the worksheet that he had given me. My plan of sleuthing had turned into a learning experience, and my brain felt like it was throbbing in my skull. Despite how much I didn't want to, I continued to work on my worksheet until Mr. Miller finally stood up from his desk with the papers and scantrons in hand. I had been afraid the entire time that he was going to get up and come check on me and see if I needed help, but he didn't. I had made it to the next page by the time he had finished grading.
"I will be right back," Mr. Miller said, flicking his eyes to me before he exited the room.
I was out of my chair within moments after he left. My heart was puonding in my chest with fear that he had forgotten something and was going to turn back around and catch me. To be safe, I went to the door first and peeked out into the hallway, watching Mr. Miller's retreating back as it turned at the end of the hall.
Once he was out of view, I hustled over to his desk and pulled out the drawer that the photo had been in last time. I had been expecting it to be gone, but it wasn't. It was sitting right on top of everything. I was surprised that he hadn't placed it somewhere else, but maybe he hadn't because he didn't have anything to hide. Maybe the arrow was a common symbol, and I was just trying too hard to find a connection anywhere I could find.
I pulled the photo out of the desk drawer and stared down at it, my eyes focusing on the arrow. A flash of Sophie's cut came to mind as I looked at it, and I knew that it was the same. Without a doubt. The arrows where the same size, length, style, and even on the same arm in the same spot. There was no way that this was a coincidence. As I stared at the picture of Mr. Miller's wife, I began to notice all of the similarities between her and Sophie. They both had wide colored eyes, long blonde hair, and now the arrows.
I remembered how uncomfortable Mr. Miller had gotten when we were all looking at the picture. I couldn't help wondering why he kept a picture of him and his wife in his desk drawer at the top, like he looked at it a lot, and not on his desk. Maybe his wife had divorced him, and he was still in love with her and kept the photo as a memory. Maybe he had targeted Sophie and killed her because of her resemblance to his wife. I shuddered at the thought.
Nervously, I listened for any sounds to alert me that Mr. Miller was coming back. When I didn't hear anything I quickly snapped a photo of his wife's tattoo with my phone. I made sure that it was clear so that when I showed Mason he wouldn't be able to dispute it as a coincidence, even though knowing him he would still try.
Suddenly the sound of footsteps in the hallway caught my attention, and thinking fast I stuffed the picture frame into the inside of my jacket and pushed the drawer shut hurriedly. Unfortunately, the drawer got stuck on something that was inside, but I didn't have time to fix it. I ran back to my desk, dropping into my chair and stuffing the frame into my open backpack just moments before Mr. Miller entered the classroom. Before he had a chance to walk to his desk and notice the drawer, I scooped all of my papers up from my desk and dumped them hastily into my bag. I zipped it while I stood up.
"I'm so sorry Mr. Miller," I said loudly, gaining his attention as he neared his desk. "I have to go. Emergency at home."
Mr. Miller's face contorted into a strange look that showed that he was thinking about something other than my outburst, before he forced an expression of concern. "I hope everything is all right."
"I do too," I responded as I bolted from the room, not wanting to give him a chance to notice the open drawer. This time I was alone. There was no one else to take the fall with me, and I was nervous to know what he would have done if I had stayed for him to see it and what was missing.
***
I had rushed out of the school, knowing Mr. Miller figured out I had riffled through his desk and wouldn't be pleased with me next week. Thankfully, I had waited until Friday to instigate the plan or I'd have to see him tomorrow and explain myself. I'd still have to explain myself, but at least by the time Monday rolls around hopefully he would have calmed down to where he wouldn't be yelling at me after class. I said a quick goodbye to the ladies at the front office when I rushed out, and then headed straight for Mason's house or so I thought.
I knew Mason wouldn't be expecting me so I stopped to text him that I was coming over when I heard his voice calling to one of his friends. I glanced around, I hadn't made it that far from the school, but I couldn't see him. I heard a loud cry of excitement, and smiled. I knew where he was. Racing down to the fields, I kept an eye out for them. I had to pass by two baseball fields, actually I think one was a softball field, but I wasn't sure what the difference was to be honest, and followed the sidewalk to an area my school lovingly referred to as 'the pit'.
It was a natural depression in the land, the center of where four different hills combined to create the worst mud pit I'd ever seen when it rained, and where coaches would torture their players by forcing them to run hill drills, which was just racing up and then back down. I wasn't much of an athlete, but just watching the drills made my legs hurt, I could never imagine running them.
I caught a flash of six or so players passing a ball in the pit, and saw the soccer goals were still around from the soccer practice yesterday. I couldn't see Mason in the cluster of people from the high view point so I slowly descended down the hill as to prevent myself from slipping and tumbling down the incline. Once safely at the bottom of the hill I made my way toward the pick up soccer game. I spotted Mason easily once I got closer, and all of the other players stopped when they saw me.
I should have noticed that I was the only person here who wasn't playing. Awkward.
"Hey Mason," one of the guys called. "Your girlfriend wants to talk to you!"
The other guys laughed. I must have been missing the point of the joke because I didn't find it funny, but everyone else did. Mason let out a sarcastic laugh before flipping off some of the other guys with a playful smile. He ran over to me, the smile still plastered on his face, and gave me a hug.
"Ew," I cried as I pushed him away. "You're covered in sweat. I don't want that all over me!"
"Sorry," Mason said with a laugh. "It was a valuable opportunity. So what's up?" he asked a little quieter as the other guys started to mess around while we talked. "Did you find something?" he asked curiously.
"I think so," I said pulling my phone out of my pocket and tapped the screen until I found the close up I had taken of Mrs. Miller's tattoo as I exited the building. "It looks exactly like the one we saw in the police photos. That's why it looked so familiar to me when I saw it."
Mason gestured for the phone, and I handed it to him. He had memorized the photo, it had been seared into his mind and I knew no matter how hard he tried, like me, he'd never be able to unsee the image that had been sliced into Sophie's skin. After a long moment, Mason sighed and handed the phone back to me.
"I don't think it's anything, Casey," he replied, letting the doleful tone in his voice show his true emotions. He wanted there to be a reason for Sophie's death as I did, but it was getting hard to think there was with us not finding any information and the police stopping their investigation. "Nick has that same tattoo on his upper arm." He pointed to a tall guy with brown hair who I knew, but not personally. I saw the tattoo flash from under his t-shirt when he moved to stop a pass. "I think it's just a coincidence, like our parents relationship. The tattoo doesn't mean anything except to the person who did it."
"Oh yeah? Well you should see her face too. She looks like Sophie."
Mason looked skeptical, but he still asked, "How so?"
"She has blonde hair, and colored eyes. Maybe he targeted her because of the similarities between her and his wife?"
Mason frowned. "A lot of people have blonde hair and everyone has colored eyes. What color are they?"
"Blue," I answered, realizing that I was probably searching for connections between them.
He shook his head and sighed. Then he held up a lock of my hair for a second before letting it fall. "In that case, why didn't he go after you instead of Sophie? You are more similar to his wife than she was, from what you're telling me."
I shrugged, not knowing how to answer his question.
Mason stared me directly in the eyes as he said, "Let's face it, Mr. Miller has no reason to kill Sophie. You're just fishing."
"You don't always have to have a motive," I retorted. I was confused by his sudden dispute of not only one of our suspects, but he seemed to be disbanding the entire investigation we had done. Something told me that Mason had something else on his mind, and that he had given up. I just hoped that I was wrong because I was still getting notes and messages about staying back, but maybe if he no longer thought about them then maybe he thought it was someone playing a cruel joke as well.
"You're right, you don't always need one to commit an act, but you need one to show probable cause and have them be a suspect. An arrow could mean a million other things than Mr. Miller being a killer. It just has to mean something to whoever did it, or it could be a set up for all we know."
I was about to speak when one of Mason's friends called to him, "You coming back?"
Mason nodded and then turned back to me. "Let me finish here, and I'll see you tonight. I promise." He offered a sweet smile before quickly leaning in and kissing my cheek. His friends gave him a smile, and I laughed it off, my cheeks burning from his action and not from being in public. Just apart of our charade, and it seemed to be never ending just like the darkness that seemed to follow me around since the day Sophie was found dead. It was only a matter of time before it got worse; it always got worse before it got better.