Larkin reached for his wallet and displayed his shield. “Detective Everett Larkin, Cold Case Squad.” He glanced over his shoulder as Doyle entered. “My partner, Ira Doyle. We have an appointment with Principal Widalski.”

The safety agent looked at Doyle, waited until he’d flashed his own badge, then returned to the desk and made a call. “Yes, I have two detectives at the front who’re here to meet with Principal Widalski? Okay, thank you.” She hung up, grabbed a clipboard, and slid it sideways along the countertop above the desk. “She’s on her way. Please sign in here.”

Larkin scribbled his name, passed Doyle the pen, and couldn’t help but notice how chaotic his penmanship looked in contrast to Doyle’s—his signature practically artwork.

“Are either of you gentlemen armed?”

Larkin looked up from the form. “Yes.” He drew back the right side of his suit coat to reveal the holstered SIG.

The agent nodded. “Keep the safeties on and firearms holstered for the entirety of your appointment.”

“Is that really a necessary warning,” Larkin asked.

She let out an unprofessional snort and said, “Sir, I’ve been workin’ here a long time. You aren’t the first cops to come through those doors. Some of ’em think they got something to prove, if you get my meaning.”

“We do,” Doyle confirmed. “In fact, I think we work with those guys.”

She cracked a smile.

“There’s a study that was recently published concerning the Male Warrior Hypothesis,” Larkin interjected. “It breaks down the correlation between testosterone and intergroup competition among men and how that particular form of aggression, in fact, promotes a certain type of cooperation against outsiders. It also demonstrates that body musculature plays a critical factor in the amount of aggression presented. For example, two groups with similar abilities will present a higher level of formidability, such as rival sports teams who are on par with each other will present a higher likelihood of violence while on the field. It’s an interesting study when viewed against the complexity of today’s society as a possible explanation for why men still behave like children at their places of employment.”

“In case you wanted a more scientific explanation,” Doyle added when the safety agent stared at Larkin like he’d grown a second head.

“Thank you” was all she said.

“Detective Doyle, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” a woman said, approaching quickly on heels, their click-clack reverberating loudly on the high-traffic tiles. She was a robust, middle-aged black woman in a sharp pantsuit, bright purple top, matching colored glasses, with box braids pulled into a beautiful high bun, and a lanyard around her neck with school ID and keys. “I’m Nichole Widalski, principal of PS 51.”