Murder of a Small-Town Honey

Still trying to beat the clock, Skye nabbed an additional chair and cleared a corner of her desk. A quick review of Zach's file indicated he was classified as learning disabled, but had not been assessed since second grade. Because of this, she decided to administer the full test battery, which included measures of intelligence, achievement, and pro­cessing skills.

The sound of anxious breathing caused Skye to look up from the various test protocols she was filling out. A stu­dent stood in her doorway with his mouth open and a dis­tinctive orange slip of paper in his hand.

She smiled at him reassuringly. 'Are you Zach Van Stee?'

Nodding, he clutched the pass tighter.

Skye got up and motioned to the other chair. 'Hi, I'm Ms. Denison. Please sit here. You can put your backpack on the floor. You're in sixth grade, right?'

Taking the seat she pointed at, Zach nodded again. He was short and stocky. This, along with his tightly curled hair, made Skye think of a Chia Pet. She jotted this down in her private notes to help remind herself of the boy when she went to write her report.

'Do you know why you're here?'

He shook his head.

'Did either of your parents talk to you about this?' she asked.

Again he shook his head.

'Okay. You know how you get help from Mrs. Boyd and her assistants?'

When he nodded for the third time, Skye was ready to recheck his file to see if he was mute.

'Well, because you get that special help, every three years we need to give you some tests to see how you're progressing. We want to see if you still need that assistance. Do you remember in second grade taking some tests with­out your classmates?'

Zach picked up a pencil and spoke to it. 'Mrs. Boyd is nice. I don't think I could do junior high without help.'

'It must be scary coming over from fifth grade.' Skye gave him an opening to share his feelings. 'The junior high is pretty big.'

When Zach returned to his vow of silence, she went on. 'Okay, the tests I'm going to give you are nothing like the tests you take in school. There's no grade. I want you to do the best you can, but it's all right to say, 'I don't know.' These tests are given to kids who are as old as sixteen, so I don't expect you to know all the answers.'

He still looked uncomfortable.

She reached into her drawer and pulled out a bag of Tootsie Roll Pops. 'How about one of these before we get started?'

Selecting a chocolate-flavored pop, he unwrapped it and began to suck contentedly.

The canvas case holding the Wechsler Intelligence Scale for Children—Third Edition, was placed next to her chair. Skye took a spiral-bound booklet from the case and opened it to a few pages from the front. 'What's missing from this picture?'

Touching the button on her stopwatch, she started timing how long it took him to answer. If he took over the allowed limit, he would not get credit even if his answer was cor­rect.

Once that subtest was completed, they went on to the second, in which Skye asked Zach questions designed to measure his general knowledge. In all, there were ten re­quired subtests and three optional ones. They measured abilities ranging from attention to detail to short-term visual memory. Half the subtests were given and responded to verbally. The remaining required no language skills on the part of the student.

Since the WISC-III took ninety minutes to administer, only thirty minutes of the school day remained when they had finished. Knowing that the achievement test would take at least an hour, Skye decided to give the Bender Visual-Motor Gestalt Test instead so she wouldn't have to stop part­way through the other instrument.

She got out the manila envelope that contained the index cards and laid it on the desk in front of her. 'Zach, for this measure I want you to make your drawing look as much like the one on the card as you can.' She tried to avoid using the word test as much as possible, since many chil­dren become anxious hearing it.

Skye put a sheet of white paper in front of Zach. The longest side was placed parallel to the table edge. Next

she gave him a sharpened pencil with a good eraser. Fi­nally she set the first of the nine index cards in front of him.

She watched carefully as he began, making notes about how he approached the task and how long it took him to ex­ecute each picture.

After he finished drawing the last geometric shape, Skye said, 'Take a good look at what you've drawn.' She paused. 'Have you looked it over?'

'Yes.'

Taking away that paper, she replaced it with another blank sheet. 'This time I want to see how many shapes you can remember. They don't have to be drawn as well as the first time, but try to remember as many as you can.'

Zach drew six figures, then squirmed in his seat and chewed on his pencil before giving up. 'Why did you have me do that?'

'On the first part, when you were copying the figures, I was trying to see how well your eye and your hand work together. This last portion was to measure how well you remember what you see. When I asked you to repeat the numbers after me and then say other sequences back­ward, it was to assess how well you remember what you hear.'

'That number thing was hard, especially going back­ward.'

'Yeah, remembering what you hear is difficult for you. That's why when teachers tell you something instead of showing it to you, it's hard for you to learn.'

'Why do they teach that way, then?'

'Because some kids remember things they hear better than what they see. It's impossible to please everyone. That's why Mrs. Boyd and her assistants are there to help you.'

The ringing of the dismissal bell took them both by sur­prise.

Zach got up and grabbed his backpack. 'Do I come back here tomorrow?'

'Yes, we need to look at your reading, math, and spelling, and then I have to ask you a few questions. I'll leave a pass for you telling when you're supposed to come.'

' 'Bye, Ms. Denison.'

' 'Bye, Zach.'

Skye packed up her equipment and put the cases near the door. She kept everything in her car trunk, since most of the instruments had to be shared among the schools. After locking the file cabinet, she put her purse over her shoulder and hoisted the test kits off the floor.

In the parking lot she set the cases on the ground near her car while she fished her keys out of her purse and un­locked the trunk to put the cases inside. Suddenly a hand reached around her and banged down the trunk lid.

Lloyd was standing right behind her. His eyes bulged and his face was rigid. He grabbed her by the upper arm and yanked. 'Come to my office immediately.'

Caught off guard, Skye stumbled as she went along with him. His fingers were cutting off the circulation in her arm. He shoved her into his office and slammed the door.

Skye tried to stay calm. 'What is it, Lloyd?'

' 'What is it, Lloyd?'' he mimicked. 'I want to know whatever gave you the idea that you had the authority to call the police?'

'You're talking about yesterday when your office was ransacked?'

'Of course I'm talking about that. Are you in the habit of calling the police?'

She deciding not to answer that question on the grounds it could incriminate her. Instead, she asked a question of her own. 'Why would I not call the police after discovering that your office was vandalized?'

'Are you questioning my orders?' Lloyd grabbed her again.

She was ready this time and used a self-defense tech­nique she'd been taught in the Peace Corps—shoving her thumb into his wrist and applying pressure until his hand bent backward. Lloyd yelped and released her,