The girl followed me to the door. "I hope you can find the man," she said, more openly friendly now than she had been in the beginning. More at ease, I thought, liking her, liking the serious, intent face and the quiet, intelligent eyes.
"I thought you were going to ask me about that girl who was killed," she said.
I felt an involuntary tension. "No. You heard about that?"
"It was all over school today."
I relaxed. Of course it would have been a sensational topic of conversation on the campus. I could imagine the speculations, the arguments, the macabre jokes.
"A terrible thing," I said automatically. I turned to leave. "Thanks for your trouble. And thank your parents for me again."
I went out into the cool night. The girl stood watching me, a small slim figure outlined against the warm light within the trailer.
Once again my search had been fruitless. And now I had talked to all four of the students who were in the booth of the Dugout that fateful night.
I couldn't believe that any one of them was capable of inhuman powers. Or of murder.