“It is. Three murders. For all I know, the same person who murdered them may have murdered before and the Feds have caught up with their suspect.”
“Any idea who?”
“Already said who,” I muttered. We were talking in low tones.
We gazed at one another for a long moment. “The teacher of the creative writing class, which I'm going to now, he is one.”
“One what?”
“Fibbie.” I said low, using his word. My eyes darted around as several people stalked passed us. Their voices filling the air, and our voices were like falling leaves in the wind.
“You know this how?”
“Can't say here. I'll tell you tonight.”
He nodded, showing me he got it.
Without a word, we continued across the atrium, and hung a left down a hall. Nate left me at the door of my first class, but not before Ellwood sauntered up
