The smile on my dad’s face faded, and I was also confused. Did he really admit he met Paul?
"What time did you meet Paul, and what time did you start your job?" I asked instead. He looked at me before answering.
"Maybe around ten minutes before 6 o’clock I met Paul. After I told him what I needed to say, I left right away. I arrived at my job at exactly 6 o’clock."
Wait, how could he be at work at 6 when CCTV footage still showed him inside the school?
"Do you have proof for that alibi?"
"My time card. You can check it. It will show I clocked in at 6 o’clock." He pulled out his time card, and just like he said, the printed time matched.
"Did anyone see you meet Paul at 5:50 p.m. yesterday?" the police officer beside my dad asked.
He shook his head. So he had no alibi before 6 p.m. But it was still strange how he could be in two places at the same time.
Could it be…?
I stepped away from them and approached a police officer.
"My dad asked if you could check with the supervisor of this fast food restaurant about—"
"You’re right! That’s exactly it!" The officer suddenly smiled, and I felt a rush of confirmation. Just as I thought. Now I understood.
I went back to where my dad was.
"If you were already at work after 6, how do you explain this photo?" My dad showed Marco the CCTV footage clearly showing his face.
"Because the truth is behind the time clock, right?" I cut in. "The restaurant’s time clock has been delayed by ten minutes for a week, according to your supervisor. You used that to your advantage to create an alibi. It still shows 6:00 even though it was already 6:10. Meaning, you were still at school at 6 p.m., and you only arrived at work at 6:10." I explained.
"Don’t try to deny it. Your supervisor already confirmed it," I added.
"Fine! Let’s say that’s true! That I was still at school at that time! What does that have to do with anything? Why are you accusing me?! Where is your evidence that I killed him?!" Marco shouted.
I laughed. "I remember almost getting caught in the rain yesterday. Good thing I got home in time."
"What does that have to do with this, Aedrian?" my dad asked.
"I got home at 5:30, just as the rain started. Right, Marco?"
I noticed his eyes widen.
"You both got caught in the rain, so you took off your shoes—but you didn’t realize you ended up swapping socks." That was just my guess.
"The lab called. It’s true there were two different fingerprints on the victim’s socks," one officer confirmed.
"That proves you were with Paul at 5:30 yesterday. And you are the only one who could have killed him, Marco." Marco clenched his fists, glaring at us.
"I could have touched those socks at another time. Don’t tell me that’s your evidence."
"There’s something else unusual about the victim’s socks," the officer added, catching my attention.
"What is it?"
"Mr. Sanceda’s footprint is also there."
My dad and I looked at Marco. My dad smirked slightly.
"So explain this—why is your footprint on the victim’s socks?"
His expression suddenly changed.
"I-I didn’t kill him… I’m not the one responsible!" He dropped to his knees, shaking. "I didn’t poison him! It’s true we met, but we only played basketball. We were just drinking water when he suddenly had a convulsion. I didn’t kill him! I got scared that I would be blamed, so I left him! But I felt guilty, so I went back—and I saw that he was already hanging!" he cried out emotionally.
"What do you mean?" my dad asked.
But before Marco could answer, a gunshot echoed, followed by a loud scream from one of my classmates.
Blood scattered across the floor as Marco collapsed.
The entire police team went into chaos. Marco had been shot in the head. We didn’t know where the bullet came from.
I immediately approached him. His eyes were still open, tears falling from them—but what terrified me most was the wide smile on his face.
I noticed his hand inside his pocket. I pulled it out and saw his iPhone. More suspiciously, there was a crumpled piece of paper in his hand.
"Aedrian, stand up. They’re going to take your classmate now," my dad said as two men carried Marco onto a stretcher.
"I’m leaving. I’ll see you at home." I nodded. It looked like it would be another long day for him.
"Wait, Dad!" He turned. "Where’s Nica? Did you see her?" I only just realized my seatmate was gone. Where did she go?
"No. I’ll go ahead." He walked out of the gym.
"Who’s Nica? The girl you were with earlier?" a police officer asked.
I nodded. "Yes. Did you see her?"
"Yeah, I saw her leave earlier like she was chasing someone. I was about to follow her, but I thought she might just be going to the restroom."
The restroom? There’s one in the gym, so why leave?
I took out my phone and checked her number—but I didn’t even have it saved.
How am I supposed to find her?
I walked out of the gym.
Maybe she really just went somewhere. She didn’t need to tell me anyway. And besides, she was angry at me.
Wait…
Could it be… she left because she was chasing someone? And that someone was the shooter who killed Marco?
Holy cheese… why is my brain so slow right now?