I looked around at everyone surrounding me, all wearing black. Just like me. And why? Well, it was a funeral. Becca’s funeral. My sister’s funeral.

And as my eyes wandered the crowd of sorrowing grievers, my gaze landed on one certain person. His name was Bobby Warner. He was Becca’s boyfriend. Until she died.

He was also the person who Becca was fighting with in our garage, just before her death. Just a coincidence? I didn’t think so. I was almost positive that he was the one who murdered my sister. But he had an alibi.

And he apparently had witnesses to protect his alibi. Apparently he was at home, with his parents at that time. Apparently he didn’t lay his hands on that bat. Apparently he didn’t kill Becca.

And apparently the cops believed all of this. But I knew better.

I knew that he had to be the one. Who else could it have been? Because I’m pretty sure that some random guy off the street didn’t just decide to come into my garage and bash my sister over the head with a Louisville Slugger, knocking her out and even killing her.

But that’s what Bobby expected everyone to believe. He expected everybody to actually think that he wasn’t fighting with her, that he didn’t get furious with her, that he didn’t get angry enough to pick up the bat and hit her with it.

And the worst part was that everyone did believe it. Everyone except for me.

However, there was another person that I suspected. I scanned the crowd again, searching for another familiar face. And then I saw her. Wearing a slinky black dress with a black shrug over it, along with black pumps to match. Lindsey Kiernan.

Ok, so here’s the story. About a year ago, Lindsey was Bobby’s girlfriend, but he broke up with her. And a week after the break-up, he asked Becca out. She agreed and after the first date, Lindsey offered to go hang out at the mall with Becca. So Becca, being the kind-hearted person that she was, said yes. Lindsey had never said a word to Becca until Bobby asked her out.

I told Becca how weird I thought it was that now that she and Bobby were going out, Lindsey suddenly wanted to be her friend. But she just shrugged it off, telling me how Lindsey was a nice person and whatnot. And the closer Becca got to Bobby, the closer Lindsey got to Becca.

Now here’s the really freaky part: Lindsey was over at our house the day of Becca’s death. When Becca and Bobby started fighting and stormed into the garage, she made up some excuse about having to get home and left out the front door. Except, now I wasn’t so sure if she ever really left.

Was it possible that she stuck around until Bobby left Becca alone and then snuck into the garage and killed her? Well, of course it was possible. I just didn’t know if it was true.

But as I eyed Lindsey’s ashen, grim face, I wasn’t so sure. She just seemed so shaken by Becca’s death, so disturbed. But then again, if she was the killer, she wouldn’t be trying to make it seem obvious. She would probably try to seem upset about the death. This new theory brought me back to square one with Lindsey.

While the cops interviewed me, I told them all of this. They did a check for fingerprints on the baseball bat used to kill Becca. But when they found it, it was wet so all the fingerprints that had been on it, no longer were. This is how they really knew for sure that it was a homicide.

Someone must have rinsed all the evidence off of the bat so that they wouldn’t get caught. They probably took it down to the lake at the park a couple blocks away and rinsed it off there, then brought it back while wearing gloves of some sort. At least that’s what the police assumed.

I turned my attention back to the preacher who was running the ceremony. “Ok, honey.” Mom said to me. I looked over at her as she stood up, her eyes watery with unshed tears. “It’s time to go.”

I nodded, also standing. Then Mom, Dad, and I all began to walk out to where our car was parked by the curb, but the preacher stopped my parents, wanting to talk to them. So I stood off to the side, waiting patiently with my never-ending thoughts.

“Rachel,” someone said from behind me. I turned to find myself face-to-face with none other than Bobby.

“Hey Bobby,” I replied.

“I’m so sorry about Becca.” he told me, sympathy clouding his eyes. Yeah, I bet you’re feeling pretty guilty for killing my sister now, aren’t you?

“Yeah, me too.” I looked away from him, glancing over to see if my parents were done talking with the preacher. But I couldn’t tell because there was a mass of people crowded around them, probably all telling them how sorry they were.

Well sorry was just a word. It really didn’t mean anything. That’s what everyone said after a death: sorry. It was the first thing that came out of their mouths, an automatic response. I was pretty sure that if it was their daughter, their sister that they lost, a bunch of people saying sorry wouldn’t really matter to them either. So they could just save their breaths. I knew it was the polite thing to do, but it was just like everyone was throwing you some pity party.

And I didn’t need anyone’s pity.

“I really can’t believe that I left right before it happened. It’s just so ironic. I feel like maybe if I’d have stayed just a minute longer, I could have stopped this.” Bobby said. “And I know what it must seem like: I was the only one there, it had to be me. But I swear to you, it wasn’t. I could never hurt Becca.”

The sincere expression on his face was almost enough to make me believe him. Almost. However, I wasn’t just going to cave into his smooth-talking that easily. I had to admit, this guy had a way with words. His deep, entrancing tone, his sweet-as-honey voice, it was like all of his words just rolled right off of his tongue smoothly and with ease, pulling you under his spell.

Plus, if you took one look at him, it was pretty hard not to look away. He had bright electric blue eyes, light chestnut colored hair that swept across his forehead. But it wasn’t so long that he looked like some kind of skater, it was the perfect length. And his body wasn’t too bad either. He had tight abs, and was muscular in that lean sort of way. Not like body-builder-muscular, more like Taylor-Lautner-muscular. Definitely strong enough to kill a teenage girl with one swing of a baseball bat.

“I know that you would never hurt her. And don’t worry, I never suspected you.” I lied. I was surprised at how real that sounded, I usually wasn’t that great of an actress.

“Oh, good.” he replied, clearly relieved. “So, uh, who do you think did it?” His tone was now hushed, secretive.

“Um, I’m really not sure. This is all so much for me to take in, it’s kind of hard to play the blame game now.” It was actually quite easy, but he didn’t have to know that.

“Yeah, I can see where you’re coming from.” He glanced around, as if making sure that no one was listening in on us. “I actually kind of think it might have been Lindsey.”

I tried my best not to grin. I knew that my hunch about Lindsey was a good one. But then again, he could just be telling me this so that I thought it was her and not him. He could just trying to make sure I didn’t think he did it. After all, one of the first things he said was that he could never hurt Becca. It kind of sounded like he was desperate for me to believe that he was innocent. And that was suspicious, very suspicious.

“Oh yeah?” I asked him. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, I haven’t told this to anyone else, but she didn’t really leave when she said she did. I caught her listening in on the conversation I was having with Becca in the garage.”

“You know,” I said, pretending to think this over, “now that I think about it, she does have a motive. After all, you dumped her for Becca.”

His face went sallow as soon as I mentioned the break-up between him and Lindsey. “Yeah, I uh, guess so.” he murmured. “But it just seemed like she was kind of angry when she heard our…conversation.”

I raised an eyebrow, knowing very well that it wasn’t just a conversation. They were fighting. “Bobby, what exactly was your conversation about anyways?”

“Well Becca and I were beginning to have slight…difficulties in our relationship.”

“Difficulties? And what were these difficulties about?”

“Just stupid stuff.” Wow, he was a good liar. “You know, typical boyfriend-girlfriend stuff.”

“Actually, I don’t know. Care to explain?” I inquired. I could tell by the uneasy look on his face that my questioning was starting make him nervous. I could tell that there was something he didn’t want me to know.

He let out a brief sigh, “The difficulty was you, ok?”

Didn’t see that one coming. “Me?” I cried. “How did I get dragged into this?”

But he didn’t get a chance to answer, because his parents walked up. “Bobby, we’re leaving.” his mom said. Then she noticed that it was me, the dead girl’s sister that he was speaking with. “Rachel, I am so sorry for your loss. You have our sympathy.”

I nodded in response, “Thank you Mrs. Warner.” As if I really meant it.

She smiled spuriously, grabbing Bobby’s wrist and walking away with him. Wonderful, perfect timing.

I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. Now I had even more unanswered questions running through my mind. Like how was I a difficulty? I barely ever spoke with Bobby. Yeah, I said hi when he came over to our house, but I really didn’t know him all that well. So how was I a difficulty?

“Ok, Rachel,” Dad said, walking up to me with Mom right behind him. “We’re leaving now.”