Slidell made introductions and held his badge to the screen. Without studying it, Bradford stepped back and opened the outer door. I noted that she hadn’t dressed up for our visit. She wore khaki shorts, a checked cotton blouse, and was barefoot.

Bradford led us down a hall lined with framed travel photos, then through an arched opening to the right. The living room had linen drapes and a tan Oushak rug overlying a gleaming oak floor. The brick fireplace was painted white to match the woodwork and flanking bookcases.

“Please.” Bradford gestured at a leather sofa.

Slidell took one end. I took the other. Bradford sat in an armchair on the far side of a steamer trunk doing duty as a coffee table.

Before Slidell could begin, Bradford started asking questions.

“Have you found Cindi?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Is she dead?”

“We don’t know that.”

“Has new information emerged?”

“No, ma’am. We’d just like to ask a few questions.”

“Just seems odd, that’s all. After so much time.” Bradford twisted sideways and tucked her bare feet up under her bum.

“Yes, ma’am. So you do remember Cindi Gamble?”

“Of course I do. She was an excellent student. There were far too few of those. I also knew her through STEM.”

“STEM?” Slidell pulled a spiral pad from his pocket, flipped pages with a spitted thumb, and clicked a pen to readiness.

“The Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math Club. Cindi was a member. I was faculty adviser.”

“You remember when she went missing?”

Slidell got a withering look from behind the Harry Potter lenses.

“I assume you were questioned at the time,” he said.

“Briefly. The police lost interest because I couldn’t really tell them much.” Using one finger, Bradford shot her glasses up the bridge of her nose. They immediately dropped back into the groove in which they’d been resting.

“What did you tell them?”

“Cindi stopped coming to school.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all I knew.”

“They talk to other teachers?”

“I suppose so. I’m really not sure.”

While Slidell asked questions, I observed Bradford. I noted that her right hand grasped one ankle very tightly. Though trying to hide it, the woman was nervous.

“What about Lovette?” Slidell asked.

“What about him?”

“Did you know him?”

“I had no personal contact with Cale Lovette. He was not a student at A. L. Brown. Isn’t this all on record somewhere? I’ve already answered these very same questions.”

“Did you know that Cindi was dating Lovette?”

“Yes.”

“She ever talk about him?”

“Not to me.”

“Were you aware of Lovette’s involvement with a group called the Patriot Posse?”

“I’d heard rumors.” Bradford’s gaze flicked toward the doorway, as though a noise or movement had startled her.

“Were the kids into that sort of thing?”

“What sort of thing?”

Slidell stared at Bradford, unmoving. I could sense his irritation.