I didn’t sleep that night. Instead I spent the whole night turning my wall into a tangle of string, photos and notepads with theories and points on them. It looked half detective, half serial killer. Regardless, I copped it the next day at school. Unfocused and unproductive. Pretty much all my teachers took note of it. And believe me they weren't all nice about it.  

“Roxanne Myers if you doze off one more time I'm going to have to write in your planner”. Mrs.Smith says, raising  her voice. I mean honestly that is the biggest threat a teacher can come up with. Why do i even pay attention if the worst that will happen is she writes her name in my book. 

I try hard to focus but once again I find myself staring into space. Around the science  lab there’s posters, and experiments being laid for observation. And creepily a model skeleton. It’s life sized and hidden behind a glass case. Its hollow eyes seem to stare back at me as I attempt to pry myself back to reality. To Mrs.Smith's dull presentation on photosynthesis. But that skeleton keeps drawing me back in. 

I couldn’t wait for lunch to come around. I Sit on the lawn by the road and work on an essay for school. Obviously my mind is elsewhere. Mrs.Clinton was my prime suspect for librarian in the legend. Since I already knew that she had dementia it wasn’t totally improbable that she could have had behavioural problems in different ways back then. 

Like magic I hear a voice from behind me. 

“Well well well Roxanne”. The voice was familiar but not so familiar. My reflexes kicked in and I twisted around one hand in a fist the other grabbing the fence. Blade jumps back scared. 

I sigh with relief. “Oh it’s just you”. 

“Yeah, watch the punches there, Rocky” he says. 

“What are you doing here, it's still the school day”. I ask 

“It’s lunch”. Blade says shrugging

“You're in year nine it’s still ditching”. I reason 

“Yeah, lunch is lunch” Blade smirks. 

“What are you doing here”. I ask again 

“Came to see you, thought we could work on the Rachel Case”. He says climbing over the short fence and sitting next to me. 

“Ok well I was just thinking Mrs.Clinton is this librarian who's been working at Redwood way longer than  2000 she also has dementia which didn’t show up until a few years ago. But I was thinking maybe”. 

“The old bat has dementia as a result of psychosis went Barmy that night and murdered Rachel out of impulse. Came to her senses, saw what she did, hid the evidence and wrote a note before ringing the cops to change the storyline a bit”. 

I smile “That’s exactly what I was going to say”. 

“Well it makes sense, Murder, Motive, Opportunity”. 

“Hm I guess but what about the footage of the bathroom? We know she went in there”. 

“Well they never found a body so they can’t confirm the time of death or even what happened to her meaning they had to go off whatever she said. She could have murdered Rachel before or after going to the bathroom no one could call her out on a lie”. Blade explains

This all seems very plausible. “Maybe i could ask her now”. I suggested. 

“Yeah go, I’ll stay hiding here and read about. King Tutunkamun.” He reads off my laptop. 

I walk into the library. It’s empty except for one girl in the far corner and Mrs.Clinton. I approach her. But somehow it all feels different. Why is it that for the first time it’s finally setting in this library. Where I have my favourite classes and borrow my favourite books. Where i go to escape my classmates or study is a potential murder scene. 

And Mrs.Clinton who always had a good recommendation, who gave me special projects for the library committee. Who would borrow books under her name for me so I could read more and get around the age restrictions.  Who made Redwood less of a Hell hole. Could be a crazy murderer. 

Mrs.Clinton didn’t look like a murderer. She has grey hair pulled into a twist. Her glasses sat just on her nose and her skin was like chocolate mixed with milk save for the friendly rosiness of her cheeks. She was always smiling. Even when she had to tell kids off, she never looked mad. Always just happy, content and kind. 

Murderers are easier to spot than serial killers. Murders usually have some weird behaviours. But serial killers are meant to be normal. That’s why they're so hard to catch. Usually they have a normal job, normal friends, normal families, But what they do when it’s just them and their victim is anything but normal. I don’t know why this fact is in my head when I approach Mrs.Clinton. I’m barley convinced she’s responsible for one murder yet alone multiple. 

I sigh nervously. “Mrs. Clinton,” I say quietly. 

“Oh Hello Rocks dear”. Mrs.Clinton says looking up from her book. “What can I do for you? Did you need a new book?” She smiles sweetly and I'm further convinced she isn’t a killer. 

“Um no I was wondering if you knew Rachel Young. This girl” I say showing her the photo I got from the database.  “Oh yes Rachel, Such a lovely sweet girl, I haven’t seen her for a while to think of it. Hopefully she’s not sick”. 

“Um no miss Rachel’s missing”. 

She looked so distressed. 

“Well that’s awful God help the poor child”. 

She isnt a child anymore. I think. 

“Mrs.Clinton when was the last time you saw Rachel”. I ask 

Mrs.Clinton furrows her brows together, appearing to focus on the question greatly. “Well lets see, I stayed back late one night and Rachel the poor dear was stressing over her tests. She kept mumbling that she’d have to work twice as hard for someone else's stupidity. I offered her to stay back to calm her nerves. She did. At some point I went to the bathroom and”.

 Mrs.Clinton looks distressed; she takes off her glasses and places her hand to her heart. “Oh I remember now. I was there, I was there when poor Rachel went missing. Oh, it was horrible. I got back from the bathroom and she was gone. And the note. There was a note. It said she wouldn't come back”. She finishes solemnly 

I pause, I have to think carefully. I figure I'll only get one more clear answer from  Mrs.Clinton. 

“Mrs.Clinton One more question. Did you see Rachel at anypoint before you saw the note”? 

Mrs.Clinton thinks for a moment.  “You know what I did, very briefly. I saw her run somewhere on my way to the bathroom. I wasn’t sure it was her then but actually come to think of it  that wasn’t her. Because the girl I saw was wearing socks while Rachel was wearing stockings. I remember because she complained how itchy they were. Who else could it have been? I didn’t call the police till I saw the note.”

I type this into my phone. “Thanks a lot Mrs.Clinton”. I say 

“Do you know Rachel  well dear”. Mrs.Clinton asks, confused. 

“No but I have a feeling that I'm about to.'' I respond.