“Miss Navarre, I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to speak to you yesterday. I wasn’t informed until later that you had been there at the scene.”

“Just to ask Frank Farman if I could take the children home to their parents.”

“Detective Mendez has asked to use my office to interview the children who found the body,” Garnett said. “He would like you to be there.”

“I think they’ll be more at ease with you there,” Mendez said.

“I think they’ll be more at ease if we aren’t in the principal’s office,” Anne said. “Going to the principal’s office is never a good thing for a fifth grader.”

“This is serious business,” Mendez said. “They should take it seriously.”

“I’m not going to let you bully ten-year-old kids,” Anne said, unconsciously standing up taller. “They’re upset enough as it is.”

Mendez looked a cross between perplexed and amused. “Don’t worry, Miss Navarre. I left my rubber hose at the office.”

Anne refused to be embarrassed. She turned to Garnett. “Could we use the conference room instead?

“It appears equally serious,” she said to the detective. “But less intimidating.”

“That’s fine,” Mendez said.

“I don’t know that those kids are even coming to school today,” Anne said. “I told their parents last night that if they needed to take some time—”

“The parents have all been contacted,” Garnett said. “They’re to bring their children here for the interviews. If they choose to take them home after that, that’s up to them.”

“What about the rest of my class?”

“I’ve called a substitute for the morning.”

“What about a counselor? Someone who can help them cope with what happened. I’m sure they’ve all heard about it by now.”

“I’m relying on you for that, Anne,” Garnett said. “You have some training in child psychology.”

“I know how to boil water. That doesn’t make me a gourmet chef.”

“You’ll be fine.”

Mendez looked pointedly at his watch. “The Morgan family should be here soon. I need to get set up.”

Setting up consisted of Mendez making sure his cassette recorder was working and that he had his notebook and pen ready.

Nothing would come of this, he was sure. The woman was already dead and buried when the kids found her. Unless one of them saw the killer leaving the scene, there wasn’t much they could tell him. But he would interview them, nevertheless, because that was the routine, and he prided himself on being thorough.

As he shuffled his stuff around, he glanced down the conference table at the teacher. Pretty and petite, she looked late twenties and very serious. She was uncomfortable, arms crossed defensively, pacing a little, frowning. Twice she reached up and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“You have training in child psychology?” he asked.