He jumped on her words. “What have you found?”

“I’m really, really sorry, Uncle Dante, but Chief Boyd ordered me not to talk about it. I don’t want to get in trouble with the police over this. Please call Wally and ask him to explain.”

She let him yell for a moment, then cut back in. “I have to go now. Sorry. The chief will explain. Bye.”

Three, Four, the Cousins Are Sore

Skye pushed open the door of Scumble River Elementary School. The principal, Mrs. Greer, was waiting in the hallway. She was a tiny woman with a puff of white hair, dressed in a soft pink suit. They walked to the office without speaking and closed the door. Mrs. Greer sat in a royal-blue wing chair and indicated that Skye should take its companion.

It was obvious to Skye that Mrs. Greer had spent her own money fixing up her office. The Queen Anne-style desk was mahogany and the cream-colored walls were hung with quality reproductions.

Picking up a file, Mrs. Greer said, “Perry Underwood is a first grader who receives assistance from the special education teacher and the speech therapist. He began receiving services when he was three and attended a special education preschool until this year. He transferred to Scumble River Elementary last fall.”

Skye nodded. “Yes, I’ve observed him in Mrs. Hopkins’ room. He has a language disorder that makes it difficult for him to process what is said to him and almost impossible for him to communicate complex thoughts.”

“Exactly. Have you met his parents?”

“No, the special ed coordinator from the co-op held the intake staffing without me. All I’ve done is review his file and take a look at him in class.”

“Well, supposedly Perry was involved in a dreadful fight yesterday in the hallway on the way to lunch. I had the school nurse look at him, and Abby says there’s not a mark on him.”

Before Skye could reply, there was a knock and Fern Otte, the school secretary, peeked around the door. “The Underwoods are here.”

“Send them in.” Mrs. Greer stood and ushered the couple inside, seating them on the blue-and-cream brocade sofa facing the chairs. “Would you like some coffee, tea, or a soft drink?”

They refused. While Mrs. Greer made introductions, Skye sized up the couple across from her. Mr. Underwood was dressed in fatigues and his brown hair was cut in a military-style crew cut. His wife wore cargo pants tucked into commando boots and an olive drab T-shirt. Both sat at attention.

Mrs. Greer settled back into her chair and tilted her head toward Mr. Underwood. “You asked to see us regarding your son, Perry.”

“Yes,” Mr. Underwood said. “I’ve taught my son to take care of himself, but he was ambushed yesterday by three boys. He managed to defeat them and give them a good thrashing, but I’m concerned about the security in your hallways.”

“I spoke to his teacher. She says the boys weren’t in the hall long enough to have the type of fight you describe. Could Perry be exaggerating?” Mrs. Greer smiled kindly at both parents.

“No.” Mr. Underwood clenched his cap in his hand. “My boy doesn’t lie. Your teacher doesn’t want to admit she’s at fault.”

Fixing him with a steady gaze, Mrs. Greer said, “My teachers don’t lie either.” She let silence prevail before continuing. “Setting that aside for a moment, your son doesn’t have a scratch on him.”

“I told you he’s been taught to take care of himself. It’s the other kids who got hurt, not Perry.” Mr. Underwood puffed out his chest.

“There are no injured students in any of the first-grade classrooms. And none of the children recall anything happening yesterday beyond the regular hallway pushing and shoving.” Mrs. Greer did not yield eye contact.

“Kids stick together.”

“None of the teachers in the surrounding classrooms heard any commotion in the hall.”

“They want to keep their jobs,” Mr. Underwood said. “I know my boy.”

Skye leaned toward the parents. “We’re not saying that Perry lied. Everyone’s perception of reality is slightly different and your son has a severe problem with the usage and comprehension of language, which makes his understanding even more dissimilar than those around him. Maybe this is no more than a misunderstanding.”

“What?” Mr. Underwood frowned.

“Can you recall the exact words Perry used when he told you about the fight?” Skye asked.

The Underwoods looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Think back now. What was his manner like? Excited? Scared?”

Mrs. Underwood spoke for the first time. “At first, I thought he seemed happy.”

“So, could it have been that the three boys included him in their group and the play was a little rough?” Skye held her breath.

Mrs. Underwood started to nod, but her husband shot her a censorious look and she turned it into a cough.

Skye directed her next remark to the woman. “I’m wondering if maybe the speech pathologist, Mrs. Whitney, might be able to help you understand what Perry is saying a little better.”

Mr. Underwood’s face closed. “We don’t need an outsider interpreting for us. We understand Perry good enough.”

“But-” Skye was cut off as the Underwoods rose to their feet.

“I told you it was a conspiracy,” Mr. Underwood hissed into his wife’s ear. “They’ve got the whole incident buried deeper than the real identity of Kennedy’s assassin.”

When the door closed behind them, Skye let out a big sigh. “That felt like an episode of the Twilight Zone.”

Nodding, Mrs. Greer leaned back in her chair. “This is a good example of why you should have all your ducks in a row before meeting with parents. They’re so sure of themselves they can almost convince you that you’re mistaken.”

“You were great. I think handling the parents is the hardest part of the job. It’s so difficult for them to admit that their children could ever be in the wrong.”

“We make a good team. I take them down with facts, and you give them something to go home and think about.”

Reflecting upon the meeting, Skye asked, “Are Mr. and Mrs. Underwood in the military?”

“No. They’re a part of that survivalist group that bought some of that land from the mining company and moved in all the trailers and mobile homes.”

“Oh, the ones up against the back forty of my grandmother’s land.” Skye narrowed her eyes. “She had a lot of trouble with those people-trespassing and hunting near the house. Maybe I should go visit the Underwoods. I’m concerned that they have such a bad opinion of the school.”

Skye was almost safely to her car when her cousins struck. Ginger and Gillian surrounded her and started haranguing her before she could speak.

Ginger was first. “We’re tired of you causing trouble in the family.”

“You always have to be the center of attention, but you’ve gone too far this time.” Gillian poked Skye in the chest with her index finger.

“What are you two talking about?” Skye edged closer to the Buick.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Each twin took an arm and forced Skye to walk with them.

Although Skye had several pounds on each of them, combined they were a force to be reckoned with. Skye’s thoughts were mixed. She didn’t want to create a scene in the school parking lot. All she needed was for it to get around that she was punching it out with her cousins. But this was getting a little scary.

“Where are you taking me?” They didn’t answer. “Look, this isn’t funny.”

When the trio reached Ginger’s van, they shoved Skye into the open back door and Gillian climbed in beside her. After Gillian slammed the sliding panel shut, Ginger walked around to the other side, climbed into the driver’s seat, and started the motor.

Skye tried again. “What’s going on? This is just silly.”

Ginger put the TranSport in gear and squealed out of the parking lot.