His parents were distraught, the father going so far as to pull D.D. aside to mention his wife’s brother, Ethan’s uncle, worked for the state police….

D.D. didn’t have the heart to tell the man that a family connection with the state police hardly bought you brownie points with the BPD.

She and Miller jotted down Ethan’s statement, seized his cell phone to search for incriminating messages between him and his twenty-three-year-old teacher, then hunted down Elizabeth Reyes, aka Mrs. Lizbet, who had a more even-handed assessment of things.

By the time they finished up at the school, it was five o’clock and D.D. was in the mood for lasagna.

“You’re awfully perky,” Miller informed her.

“Good day,” she agreed.

“We still haven’t found Sandra Jones, and now we have a third suspect to consider—a thirteen-year-old Romeo.”

“I don’t think Sandra Jones was sleeping with Ethan Hastings. Though it’ll be fun to search his cell phone.”

Miller slanted her a look. “How can you be so sure? You been watching the same national news I have? Seems like all the pretty teachers have eighth grade boyfriends these days.”

“True.” D.D. wrinkled her nose. “And no, it doesn’t make any sense to me. I mean, hell, it’s not like a woman who looks like Sandra Jones would have a problem attracting male interest.”

“It’s a dominance thing,” Miller assured her. “These women don’t want an equal relationship. They want a relationship with a male who will do whatever they say. And since those of us with testosterone aren’t known for our cooperation, they skew to the younger crowd.”

“So the testosterone is to blame?” D.D. arched a brow. “Huh, maybe I should spend more time at the local middle school.” She blew out a puff of air. “I still don’t think Sandy was sleeping with Ethan Hastings. How could she? By all accounts, she always had her child with her.”

Miller considered the matter. “Maybe it was one of those, what do they call it, ’emotional affairs.’ Sandy basically seduced Ethan via cell phone, e-mail, etc. Then her husband stumbled across some of the messages, and killed her in a fit of jealous rage.”

“Or she mentioned it to the local pervert, Aidan Brewster, and he killed her in a fit of jealous rage. You’re right, we do have too many suspects. But look on the bright side.”

“The bright side?”

“Sandra Jones’s alleged relationship with a student gives us probable cause to seize her computer.”

Miller perked up. “Good day,” he agreed.

CHAPTER TWENTY

People go through their lives gearing up for the big moments. We plan blowout celebrations for key benchmarks—the twenty-first-birthday bash, the engagement party, the wedding celebration, the baby shower We celebrate and hoot and holler and try to honor the big stuff, because, well, it’s the big stuff