IS MY BOOK GOOD? AT ALL? IT'S CALLED "MYSTERY MAN" (NOT FINISHED, JUST STARTED)?

Hi. I'm Hanna Baldwin, when I was fourteen my sister was murdered. By whom? That remains a mystery to us. My dad is dead and my mom has no job, yet we don't live on the streets. We live with my Aunt Becla.

"Aunt Becla..."

"Yes dear?"

"Why did Mable have to...die?"

My aunt got teary eyed but seemed to not be shocked by my random question.

"She didn't...die..."

I didn't talk, I looked out into the open cornfields, my heart skipped a beat at the vision of death.

"She was hurt, killed, by someone sweetheart. We are gonna find them, I can promise you that."

"Who do you think it was?"

"Oh darlin', nobody is gonna know till we got evidence...we will real soon though. Don't worry. When we find them, they are gonna regret it...all."

I sat out there alone, swinging on the wooden hand-made swing my daddy had gotten me when I was four and Mable wasn't alive.

The wind swept my hair to the other side and in my face, a quick drift of maple drifted over me and I gazed past the cornfield to the maple tree's. I remembered that me and Mable used to love to climb the trees, high above the tree-tops was Mable's favorite place to read.

I remembered when she was young my mama told us that the sap smelled like maple. Mable cried out "Mama! It smells like me?!" and she licked some of the maple sap off the tree. We laughed for months about that and we used to tease her about it still.

I heard someone yell and quickly turned aroudn to see my mom and Aunt Becla fighting.

"God dang it Ralen! When are you going to realize what she is going through?"

"I know...what she is going through! You think I don't care? That my own...died...I've had a hard life Becla! Dad died when I was seven, mom died when I was twelve, Christopher died when I was seventeen, and we had to live with Uncle Todd and Aunt Elaina! Now...my own daughter dies, and my...husband."

Aunt Becla held mama close.

"Sissy, you need to face the fact, Hanna is wants to find this person. Yet you seem to have no interest!"

"I do have interest!"

"Really, you haven't even said anything about finding this person, you haven't mentioned the idea. Hanna is scared, what if they come after Hanna? What then? Are you just going to say "it's impossible?" because that sure seems like what your trying to say!"

"BECAUSE IT IS BECLA!"

"Stop yelling. Hanna can probably hear us!"

She looked out the window and I quickly turned around, acting as if I hadn't heard a word they said.

"I will finish this with you later tonight."

"No. Your first going to tell me something before I got to bed!"

"Do you think...it was Harris...Johnson?"

I trembled, Mr.Johnson lived three streets down from me. He used to babysit us, I had loads of doubt he was the victim. He was nice, but quiet and slightly mysterious.

"I highly doubt it Becla. Mr. Johnson used to babysit the girls. He was a very nice man."

"You never know Ralen...what about-"

"NO. I'm calling the police...this is getting out of hand. We need to know! NOW."

I came in through the window to my bedroom. Nobody heard me, which was what I was hoping for, I snuck from room to room, edging closer to the family room where they sat discussing the case. Soon I heard a soft knock at the door.

"Sedlan County Police."

Aunt Becla opened the door for him as he walked in with other officers. There was only one woman, the rest men.

"Hello Ralen. I'm glad you've decided that you'd like to talk with us about your daughter's death. We apologize in advance for the tears."

My mom didn't thank them, that was kind of a rude question, apologizing for tears we may shed.

The woman stepped forward.

"May I speak with your other daughter? Is she here now?"

"Yes, she should be in her room or outside."

"Thank you ma'am."

I ran back to my room quickly and silently closed the door, I plopped down on my bed and grabbed a book, I flipped to a random page.

The woman came in with a knock.

She saw my book I was reading "To Kill a Mocking Bird. All time classic." she smiled sweetly.

"I'm Officer Brown, but you can call me Vicky if you want," she sat on the edge of my bed.

"Hi...Vicky..."

"Hi Hanna."

We sat silently for a moment.

"Do you mind if I-"

"No..."

"OK...thank you."

She opened up a small notebook and turned to a blank page.

"I'm just going to ask a few questions, then if you will, honestly answer them please."

"Yes ma'am..."

"How was your relationship with Mable?"

I sat there for a second..in silence.

"Hanna?"

"Oh...ummm...she was my best friend."

"What did she always want to talk to you about?"

"What scared her, or if she needed advice, or we'd just...goof off I guess."

"What scared her, Hanna?

"The dark, and death...I suppose."

"How old was she when she died?

"Eleven..."

"Are you fifteen...?"

"No. I will be in two months. She died on February 12, 2009. Her birthday is on January 9th. Mine is on May 17th. Today is February 29th..."

"Oh...did she walk home? D