there was a dog. He was guarding her. He was black and white.”
“Did he have a collar?”
Tommy looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember. “Mmmmm. . . maybe . . . I’m not sure.”
“Did you touch anything around the dead lady?”
He shook his head emphatically. “No way.”
“Did anybody else touch anything?”
Tommy looked at the tabletop again, considering the wisdom of ratting out Dennis Farman. It didn’t seem like the thing to do if he wanted to stay in one piece.
“Tommy?”
Miss Navarre. He looked up at her and knew she knew he was stalling. She said a lot with her eyes. He didn’t want to let her down, what with being kind of in love with her and all.
“Uh . . . I didn’t touch anything. And I know Wendy didn’t touch anything.” Maybe if he left it at that . . .
Miss Navarre turned then to his parents. “Will Tommy be staying in school today?”
Tommy looked up at his father, willing him to say he could stay. His mother had talked about a psychiatrist. He had seen psychiatrists on television, and Lori Baylor had gone to one after her mother died of breast cancer. From what Tommy had been able to discern, all they ever did was make people lie down on a couch and talk about their feelings. Tommy had nothing to say on that subject. His feelings were not anybody else’s business.
“Principal Garnett tells us you’ve had some training in child psychology,” Tommy’s father said.
“Yes. Some,” Miss Navarre said. “Wendy Morgan is staying, if that helps in your decision-making.”
Tommy bugged his eyes out at his father.
Please, please, please, please
. He liked school. School was where he was happiest—except for when he was playing baseball or watching baseball. School was normal. At school he didn’t have to be watching adults and trying to figure out what they were thinking and how it would affect him.
“But you don’t have a degree,” Tommy’s mother said.
“No, I don’t.”
“And the school isn’t going to provide someone who has.”
“It doesn’t look that way.”
“And how will you handle the situation, Miss Navarre?” his mother asked, already expecting an unsatisfactory answer.
“We’ll talk about what happened with the class,” Miss Navarre said. “I think the best thing we can do is be open and honest with the kids.”
“Talking about serial killers?” Tommy’s mother said, giving Miss Navarre her Cold Eye as Tommy called it. “You think that’s appropriate, Miss Navarre?”
“No,” Miss Navarre said, raising her chin a little. “But talking about what happened to their classmates, talking about what’s going to happen next, talking about how a police investigation works, turning a negative experience into an opportunity to learn—all seems very appropriate. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Crane?”
Tommy’s mother sighed impatiently. “I think everyone on the school board is going to get a call about Mr. Garnett’s poor decision not to call in a professional.”
“That’s your prerogative,” Miss Navarre said. “In the meantime, I’ll do the best I can.”
“That’s not exactly reassuring.”
“I want to stay,” Tommy blurted out. Now he got the Cold Eye. It might have been better for him if he had ratted out Dennis Farman and kept his mouth shut about this. Oh well. It was too late now. “Please, Mom.”
His father spoke up then. “Let’s see how it goes. I like your ideas, Miss Navarre. I know you have the kids’ best interest at heart.”
“I do.”
Tommy’s mother stood up abruptly, checking her watch.”Are we finished, Detective?” she asked. “I have an appointment I have to get to.”
Detective Mendez and Miss Navarre looked at Tommy’s mother, a little surprised. Tommy wasn’t surprised. His mother was mad and she was cutting them off, dismissing them. She was done here and on to other, more important things. She didn’t like anything to disrupt her schedule.
Detective Mendez said, “You’re free to
“Did he have a collar?”
Tommy looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember. “Mmmmm. . . maybe . . . I’m not sure.”
“Did you touch anything around the dead lady?”
He shook his head emphatically. “No way.”
“Did anybody else touch anything?”
Tommy looked at the tabletop again, considering the wisdom of ratting out Dennis Farman. It didn’t seem like the thing to do if he wanted to stay in one piece.
“Tommy?”
Miss Navarre. He looked up at her and knew she knew he was stalling. She said a lot with her eyes. He didn’t want to let her down, what with being kind of in love with her and all.
“Uh . . . I didn’t touch anything. And I know Wendy didn’t touch anything.” Maybe if he left it at that . . .
Miss Navarre turned then to his parents. “Will Tommy be staying in school today?”
Tommy looked up at his father, willing him to say he could stay. His mother had talked about a psychiatrist. He had seen psychiatrists on television, and Lori Baylor had gone to one after her mother died of breast cancer. From what Tommy had been able to discern, all they ever did was make people lie down on a couch and talk about their feelings. Tommy had nothing to say on that subject. His feelings were not anybody else’s business.
“Principal Garnett tells us you’ve had some training in child psychology,” Tommy’s father said.
“Yes. Some,” Miss Navarre said. “Wendy Morgan is staying, if that helps in your decision-making.”
Tommy bugged his eyes out at his father.
Please, please, please, please
. He liked school. School was where he was happiest—except for when he was playing baseball or watching baseball. School was normal. At school he didn’t have to be watching adults and trying to figure out what they were thinking and how it would affect him.
“But you don’t have a degree,” Tommy’s mother said.
“No, I don’t.”
“And the school isn’t going to provide someone who has.”
“It doesn’t look that way.”
“And how will you handle the situation, Miss Navarre?” his mother asked, already expecting an unsatisfactory answer.
“We’ll talk about what happened with the class,” Miss Navarre said. “I think the best thing we can do is be open and honest with the kids.”
“Talking about serial killers?” Tommy’s mother said, giving Miss Navarre her Cold Eye as Tommy called it. “You think that’s appropriate, Miss Navarre?”
“No,” Miss Navarre said, raising her chin a little. “But talking about what happened to their classmates, talking about what’s going to happen next, talking about how a police investigation works, turning a negative experience into an opportunity to learn—all seems very appropriate. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Crane?”
Tommy’s mother sighed impatiently. “I think everyone on the school board is going to get a call about Mr. Garnett’s poor decision not to call in a professional.”
“That’s your prerogative,” Miss Navarre said. “In the meantime, I’ll do the best I can.”
“That’s not exactly reassuring.”
“I want to stay,” Tommy blurted out. Now he got the Cold Eye. It might have been better for him if he had ratted out Dennis Farman and kept his mouth shut about this. Oh well. It was too late now. “Please, Mom.”
His father spoke up then. “Let’s see how it goes. I like your ideas, Miss Navarre. I know you have the kids’ best interest at heart.”
“I do.”
Tommy’s mother stood up abruptly, checking her watch.”Are we finished, Detective?” she asked. “I have an appointment I have to get to.”
Detective Mendez and Miss Navarre looked at Tommy’s mother, a little surprised. Tommy wasn’t surprised. His mother was mad and she was cutting them off, dismissing them. She was done here and on to other, more important things. She didn’t like anything to disrupt her schedule.
Detective Mendez said, “You’re free to
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