--- Chapter Four ---

The sound of a woman's high heels clicking on the linoleum floor was echoing through the halls. The woman stopped. Everywhere she looked, the school was deserted. This was very odd. At 7:00 in the morning, the school was usually brimming with life.

She continued.

It appeared that this woman was in her early twenties. She was rather short, and proportionally sized for her height. Her hair was a light mahogany color, pulled back into a ponytail with a hair tie. Her eyes were brown, a twinkle of cheerfulness keeping them alight.

In this school, only the band kids knew her. She was a student teacher from a nearby college. Her term was nearly over; in a few weeks time, she would be leaving the school forever. At least, until the concert in January.

She turned a corner. Suddenly, she froze, foot still in midair.

"Hey, you! YOU! What're you doing here? You'd better—"

"What happened?" A look of disbelief spread across the woman's face. Her astonishment must have caught the police officer off guard; he didn't finish his sentence.

"Follow me. We'll have to question you immediately. Please leave your bag outside the door and kindly hold your arms out parallel to the floor. We must search you."

Her mouth hanging open, the woman slowly lowered her foot and dropped her bag. She placed her arms out from her sides in a spread-eagle fashion, dumbfounded and confused.

As the officer pulled out a short stick that appeared to be a metal detector, the woman turned. Someone was coming. She held her breath, waiting for the worst. Her heart raced with anticipation, as well as her mind. What was happening? Surely, they didn't think she had done this, whatever it was?

As the man approached, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was Mr. Neller.

"It's okay, officer. Let me introduce you to Miss Molson."

"Molson, eh?" the police officer repeated. "So, what business do you have here? Didn't you get the message?"

"What message?" Miss Molson asked, eyes wide in confusion.

"Veterson was attacked last night," Neller said with a sigh. Miss Molson gasped.

"Who on earth would ever…?"

"We don't know who did it… and the attacker may still be in the building. You'd best go home. There's no school today." Neller shook his head and rubbed his temples, the stress obviously taking a toll on him.

"Isn't there anything I can do to help you out?" Molson asked, wringing her hands.

"Not much," the police officer said, walking toward the two band directors. "Do you have any idea of what might have provoked the attack?"

Neller shook his head. "Veterson's a good man, and one of the best directors in the district. He's plenty strict sometimes, but he's not real harsh with the students. They really like him… or at least, I thought so."

But Molson was thinking, biting her lip as she did so. "Mr. Neller…" she said slowly.

"…what about the chair auditions?"

"Hm? What's that?" the police officer asked.

"Chair auditions," Neller explained. "We have all of the kids perform for us, and then we set them in order of ability. It's how we choose who gets into the Wind Ensemble, too… oh, no…"

"You don't think…" Molson whispered.

"Molson," Neller said. "Go get the list of the students that Veterson listened to."