Ginny rose, crossed the small room, and reached for the door handle, but he was there before her. He looked down into her face.

“Ginny, whether it’s true or not, I think it would be a good idea if you told everyone you’ve given up the idea of investigating Professor Craig’s death.”

She looked up at him, her breath tight in her throat. “Anyone in particular?”

He shook his head. “I don’t have a favorite suspect. Do you?”

She shook her head, her eyes on the door handle.

“What is it you’re not telling me?” he asked.

She swallowed hard, then met his eyes. “You know everything I know.”

He studied her face for a moment, then sighed. “All right.” He opened the door and let her go.

Ginny hurried out and back to her own part of the hospital, thinking hard. There was really no reason to suspect him of anything. He was behaving exactly as she would, if their positions were reversed.

A small voice in her head corrected her. Except—he had been following her.

She frowned, pushing the thought aside. Even if everything Hal had told her turned out to be true, it was all circumstantial. Not proof.

True. The small voice again. Just one question, though, it said. And it probably means nothing, it said. It was just, if he was telling the truth about his movements this evening, if he had truly been down to the classroom to get a book, then where was it? His hands had been empty.