PALE • m.c.

Eight

"We just need to ask you guys a few questions to clear everything up, okay?" An officer spoke facing the two teenagers on the other side of the table.

Calum had wide puffy eyes, his leg bouncing up and down while he wore a oversized grey sweater. His short brown hair with blonde streaks was pushed to the side, being able to physically tell he's been running his hands through it. Farrah on the other hand was more calm than anything.

The officer glanced at the detective sitting beside him. He nodded, clicking his pen and preparing himself to write on his clipboard.

"May I have your names?" The detective spoke, sliding up his glasses with his pointer finger to the bridge of his nose.

"Farrah Greene." She stated for herself. She looked at Calum who looked quite uneasy and decided to speak for him. "And Calum Hood."

The detective nodded, his name tag flashing around. James Davis.

He scribbled down their names on his notepad attatched to his clipboard. "Okay, and what were you doing in the middle of the woods so late at night?"

Farrah blinked a few times, clearing her head for the most accurate answer. "We were taking a shortcut."

"To where?" He shot back quickly.

Farrah opened her mouth, then closed it, looking at Calum for answers. He twisted his thumbs around in his lap, not daring to make eye contact. "Just, out."

"Define 'just out' Mr Hood." The detective retorted.

"Downtown," he said back.

"Hmm," The detective said while writing something down. "You decided to go out in the middle of the night?"

"Yes."

"Why not the day, when you can see?"

Calum sighed, furrowing his eyebrows together. He felt sick and just wanted to go home. He missed his bed. "Because the stars are not out during the day."

The detective nodded, waving him off and moved to another question. " Where exactly did you find Mr. Clifford?"

"Laying off to the side of the trail sir," Farrah responded.

"And you-"

"You think we did it, don't you? You think we killed him." Calum interrupted.

"I never said that." The detective spoke. "But a guilty conscious speaks first."

"Well we didn't." Calum stubbornly crossed his arms.

"Do either of you know Mr. Clifford?"

Calum sighed, running his hands through his hair. "I knew him from school. We use to be mates and I guess we parted once we graduated."

The detective raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah," Calum bit his lip.

"What about you?" He pointed to Farrah.

She shook her head, implying that she did not know him. The detective nodded and wrote more things down. The air in the room was thick, mostly because both of them knew they had a potential for getting blamed for murder.

"I guess you two can go now." The detective sighed. "And for your information Mr. Hood, I didn't think for one second you two were the cause of death. There was a quick examine on Michaels body last night. No wounds, no show of physical violence, nothing we could pin on anybody. We'll preform a autopsy for further information, it was nice meeting you two."

The officer stood up and ushered them out. Calum reached back and laced his hand with Farrah's. Maybe he was just over reacting. But how was he suppose to act when he found his dead friend?

He held the door open for Farrah, the two crossing the parking lot to get to her car. She unlocked the doors and they both climbed in.

"That's bullshit," Calum mumbled. "They called us down here to give us five minutes of questions only to tell us they knew what happened."

Farrah cranked the car, quickly turning on the heat to rid the cold. Her fingers reached over and caressed his thigh lightly, comforting him.

"Calum?" She asked, staring into his brown eyes. "Can you at least tell me what Michael was like?"