I Was There

Chapter 18

Now that I knew that one of the football players murdered Claire, I had to figure out who before it was too late. I tried to think back to the past, see if Claire had any enemies from the football team. Even though she had some, none of them really stood out in any way. They just gave her dirty looks as she passed, or mumbled mean names under their breath. No one was really a threat to her. . .

My phone rang, making me jump. I grabbed it and picked up. "Hello?"

"Hey Kyla." Peter replied. I heard things being shuffled around nearby. "I developed the photo, so if you wanted to stop by and take a look. . ."

His voice trailed off, and I assumed it was my turn to speak. "Yeah that would be great." I heard the words rush out of me. "I'll be there in five minutes."

"Okay. See you soon." Then the line went dead.

I went outside and started walking to Peter's house. A thought occurred to me, and I slowly began to notice how distant and distracted he sounded. How he was moving things around, as if in a panic. Could he have been hiding something that he didn't want me to know about? I thought. I was getting closer to his house with each step.

I dismissed that thought instantly when he answered the door. Peter then stepped aside to let me in. I followed Peter downstairs and into the darkroom. I instantly saw the desk was cluttered with papers and folders.

"I'm going to get the picture," Peter said excitedly. "I'll be right back." And with that, he left the room.

Knowing that I didn't have much time, I scampered over to the desk area where the folders and papers were scattered everywhere. I shuffled through the papers and other documents, then moved on to the two folders that were stuffed to the brim with paper and photos wedged in them. I put down the first one that had Family  written on it. The second manila folder said Confidential Information.

I gasped. Could this have something to do with Claire and the murderer? Not taking any chances, I shoved the folder into my hoodie just as Peter bounded down the stairs towards me. He was oblivious that I even moved, let alone shuffled the papers everywhere. Some were even on the ground.

"Okay," Peter looked up at me. "Ready?" Not waiting for a response, he flipped it over, showing me the picture.

It was me on the big rock, beaming and closing my eyes. I looked relaxed, almost happy. The stars illuminated the scenery, making me glow. Peter was grinning at me. He lowered his voice and asked, "Did you read the caption?"

I went back to look at the image and read the caption. I gasped.

My Angel.

I looked up at Peter and he hugged me tight. It was like we became one when we were together. We were two puzzle pieces that connected and stayed together, thick through thin. We were both going along on the ride, together, as a team.



When I got back home, I went into my room and yanked the folder out from my hoodie. I slapped it on the desk and sat down. I took a deep breath. Here it goes, I thought.

I carefully opened the Confidential folder to see pictures of Claire's house. There was a picture of the kitchen, living room, dining room, and all of the bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs.

Why would Peter have pictures of Claire's house? Was it for the murder investigation or something else? How was Peter able to take these photos without anybody noticing? What was he going to do with these photos?

So many questions with no answers at all.

I picked up the photo of Claire's bedroom once more. I remember what it looked like vividly. Her walls were painted this maroon pink color, with her bed nearby a window with white curtains. The desk and full length mirror were on the opposite side, as was her dresser. Various pictures of Claire and me were hung up meticulously and with care.

Looking closely, I saw that one of the pictures hanging up on the wall was crooked. Her pictures were never crooked. If anything, she tried to get them to be as straight as a ruler.

I slowly placed the pictures back just how I found them, all messy and askew. I closed the folder and put it in my nightstand drawer where the other photos were. I walked out of my front door, knowing what I had to do.