“Sandy told me she was working with you on a project,” Jason said softly. “She said you are an excellent student, Ethan, and she enjoyed working with you very much.”

Ethan flushed, ducked his head again.

“How long have you loved her?” Jason pressed, aware of D.D. stiffening beside him as Phil Stewart’s eyes widened in shock.

“No—” the principal started.

“You don’t deserve her!” Ethan burst out. “You work all the time. You leave her alone. I would treat her better. I’d spend every second of every day with her if I could. I’m helping her with her teaching module, you know. I go to the basketball games, just for her. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do if you love someone. You’re supposed to stay with them, talk to them. You’re supposed to be with them.”

“How often were you with Mrs. Sandra?” Sergeant Warren asked now.

“Every day. Free period. I was teaching her all about navigating the Internet, how to explain it to the sixth-graders. I’m very good with computers, you know.”

Crap, Jason thought. Holy crap.

“Ethan, did you and Mrs. Sandra ever go out together?” Warren asked.

“I saw her every Thursday at the basketball games. Thursday nights are my favorite night of the whole week.”

“Did you go to her house or maybe someplace else?”

Principal Stewart looked like he was going to have a heart attack.

But Ethan shook his head. “No,” he said mournfully, then spun his overexcited gaze back to Jason. “She said I couldn’t come over. She said it would be too dangerous.”

“What else did Mrs. Jones say about her husband?” Warren asked.

The boy shrugged. “Just things. Stuff. But she didn’t have to say everything. I could see it for myself. She was so lonely. Sad. One day, she even started to cry. She wanted away from him, I could tell. But she was scared. I mean, look at him. I’d be scared, too.”

Everyone dutifully turned to Jason, his shadowed eyes, his heavily bearded face. He looked back down at the floor. Grieving husband, grieving husband.

“Ethan, it sounds like you and Mrs. Sandra talked a lot. Did you maybe e-mail her, or call her on her cell phone, or contact her some other way?” the sergeant asked.

“Yeah. Sure. I guess. But she told me not to call or write too often. She didn’t want her husband to get suspicious.” Another furious glare.

“So you and Mrs. Sandra would meet outside of school,” Principal Stewart asked now, looking gravely concerned.

But Ethan shook his head. “I already told you, we met during her free period. And Thursday nights. At the basketball games.”

“What else would you do during the basketball games?” Warren asked.

“What do you mean?”

The sergeant shrugged. “Did you go for walks together, maybe around the school, or sit and talk in a classroom, or anything else?”