had started the group, she had cleared out the pastor’s old office and brought in a low table and four chairs. The walls were bare and there were no windows. Another lesson she had quickly learned was that it was best to have an area without many visual stimulants.
Skye set up the first game—one designed to encourage cooperation—then took a sip of her coffee as she waited for her group to arrive. After a couple of swallows, she became aware of an unsettling silence. Usually schools were full of noise, but she was totally on her own here.
The isolation made her think of Suzette’s mother—supposedly alone in the house, with a three-year-old as the sole witness to her accident. What had really happened to Mrs. Neal all those years ago? And what had happened to her daughter a few days ago? Skye hastily scribbled down thoughts as they occurred to her.
1. Did Mrs. Neal’s death have anything to do with Suzette’s murder?
2. Did Suzette’s brother have anything to do with either death?
3. Why use a steamroller to kill Suzette?
Before she could come up with more questions, her clients burst into the room. The teacher’s aide hurried after them, a harried expression on her face. She nodded at Skye, then turned on her heels and fled.
The boys were definitely unusual. Clifford, the brightest of the three, handed Skye a white square of paper.
She thanked him, unfolded it, and read:
Glaring at Skye, Clifford sat down and slammed a thick hardcover
Skye silently looked at him until he dropped his gaze; then she checked on the other boys. Alvin, who was tall for his age and built like a mini-linebacker, immediately got down on all fours. He crawled after the tokens, making excited yipping noises.
For an unprofessional moment, Skye wondered why Alvin insisted he was a dog named Spot instead of a singing chipmunk. At least the cartoon Alvin talked; her Alvin communicated only by barking.
The third boy had his back pressed to the door and was waving a can of Lysol in the others’ direction, as if warding off mosquitoes. Duncan—or, as the kids called him, Mr. Clean—liked everything to be perfectly orderly and hygienic. So much so that he had insisted on having his head shaved so no hair would ever be out of place. Skye still couldn’t believe his mother had gone along with that.
Clifford, aka Book Boy, glanced around and smiled contentedly. He retrieved his novel, flipped it open to the bookmarked page, and started to read.
Needless to say, none of the three kids had been able to make any friends, which concerned both their parents and the school staff. At their Individual Education Plan conference last fall, Skye had volunteered to provide a socialization group. This was their second meeting. Clearly she had her work cut out for her.
Reaching over, Skye plucked the book from Clifford’s hands, swiftly put it on her chair, and sat on it. Then, in a mild tone, she said, “Would you all please help collect the pieces so we can begin our game?”
Alvin picked up one of the larger tokens in his mouth, trotted over, and dropped it into Skye’s hands. Duncan gingerly approached a few pieces, sprayed them with Lysol, and brought them to the table. Clifford stared at Skye without moving.
Ignoring the recalcitrant boy, Skye showed the other two boys the rewards they could earn for taking turns, following directions, and speaking in their indoor voices. Once she had their interest, she got them started on the game.
Less than ten minutes had passed when Clifford grabbed a token and put it on the board. Alvin growled and Duncan aimed his Lysol can at the intruder.
“Should we let our friend Clifford join our game?” Skye selected a small rubber ball from her reward bag. “Alvin, do you think Clifford should get a turn?”
The large boy cocked his head, nodded, and said, “Woof.”
Skye gave him the ball. “Good job on taking turns, Alvin.”
“Duncan, do you agree we should let our friend Clifford join us in our game?” Skye held up a miniature container of hand sanitizer.
“Yes, Ms. D.” Duncan reached for the bottle. “I want to take turns, too.”
“Excellent decision.” Skye checked her watch. The group was scheduled to last a half hour, and they still had ten minutes left. She handed the dice to Clifford and said, “Your friends agree it’s your turn.”
The rest of the time went well, and the boys were putting the game pieces away in the box when the same teacher’s aide who had brought the boys to the session eased the door open. “Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Denison, but Mrs. Smith needs you. Two of the older children are having a disagreement about the proposed music theater and she’s afraid it’s about to turn physical.”
“Oh, my.” Skye swiftly stood and hurried out of the room, leaving the aide to supervise the boys.
Once she had helped the special education teacher with a conflict resolution exercise, Skye picked up her counseling equipment, then headed back to her office. As she walked down the hall, she thought about the similarities between the students’ disagreement and the argument between Ginger and Theresa. It was sad that the kids had behaved better than the PTO board. The boys hadn’t hit each other, shredded any clothing, or called each other names.
Skye’s lucky streak continued, and she was able to leave school on time, which meant she had a luxurious half hour in which to pick up Toby and get over to the rectory. Skye thought she might even have a chance to talk to Simon about Suzette. If he hadn’t been able to figure out why the singer looked familiar, maybe Skye could nudge his memory.
Simon swung open the front door of his house as soon as Skye knocked, almost as if he had been waiting for her in the foyer. She cringed. Had Toby destroyed a valuable antique or misbehaved so badly that Simon couldn’t wait to get rid of him? No, that couldn’t be it. The little dog sat obediently at Simon’s feet, neither barking nor jumping.
“Hi.” Simon smiled warmly. “Do you have time to come in, or are you in a hurry?”
“Well . . .” A small voice inside her warned that being alone with Simon in his home might be misconstrued by both her ex and Wally. But it had been a month since Simon’s last over-the-top stunt in his quest to win her back, and she was hoping he’d finally realized his continued pursuit was futile. “I have a few minutes before I have to be at the church.”
“Great.” Simon stepped back so she could enter. “I want to show you a trick I taught Toby.” He led her down the hall, through the kitchen, and into a screened-in porch, gesturing for her to take a seat.
She chose a bronze wrought-iron chair with black-and-tan-plaid cushions. Simon perched on the end of a matching chaise longue.
“Look.” Simon made a motion with the flat of his hand and Toby trotted over. Another gesture and the little dog sat in front of Simon.
“How did you do that?” Skye asked, totally wowed by the performance.
“His mistress must have trained him, because as soon as I figured out the correct signals he was terrific.” Simon grinned. “Now watch this.” He pointed his finger at the dog and mimicked shooting a gun. Toby immediately fell over, all four paws pointed upward.
“Wow.” Skye beamed. “That puts a whole new twist on playing dead.”
“Yeah.” Simon reached into the pocket of his khaki pants and gave Toby a treat. “He’s extremely smart.” Simon scratched behind the dog’s pointy white ears and crooned, “Aren’t you, boy?”
“He sure seems that way when he’s with you.” Skye was pleased to see Simon so happy. It had been a rough year for him because of her engagement to Wally, as well as a friend’s betrayal. Maybe now that he wasn’t obviously trying to sweep her off her feet, they could be pals. “I’d say you two are getting along like gangbusters.”
“We are.” Simon stroked the dog’s silky fur. “He loves my fenced-in backyard.” Simon pointed through the screens. “And I really like having him around to talk to.”
Skye swallowed. She hated that she had caused Simon pain. He was a good man, and for a while she had thought she loved him. She remembered one evening together when he had brought her to his house for dinner. A trail of rose petals had greeted her at the door and led into the dining room, where the table had been set with a crisp white linen tablecloth.
