Dr. Wraige squirmed. “Perhaps you’re not aware of Cray’s score on the ACT.”

“No, I can’t say that I am.” Skye looked puzzled. “That’s not the type of testing I do.”

“I’m cognizant of that.” He scowled. “But you do know that to gain admittance to a top university one has to have the grades, the class rank, and a top ACT score.”

“Yes. Last time I checked, a school such as the University of Illinois required anywhere from a twenty-seven to twenty-nine to be accepted by their various colleges.”

“Correct. Cray scored a twenty-four.” Dr. Wraige’s eyes bored into hers.

Skye frowned. “I’m sorry to be so dense, but what does that have to do with me?”

He sat back in his chair and spoke slowly, as if to someone who was not very bright. “If Cray is certified as having a handicapping condition, such as a learning disability, he is allowed certain modifications when taking the ACT. These can include more time, calculators, dictionaries… Need I go on?”

“No. I understand.” She sagged. “You want me to lie so the mayor’s son can get a score he doesn’t deserve.”

Dr. Wraige scowled. “That statement was impertinent.”

She didn’t speak.

“Look, you and I both know that psychological testing is not always as precise as we would like to think.” He oozed sincerity. “Isn’t it possible that you could have overlooked something in your evaluation of Cray Clapp?”

Reluctantly, she nodded. “It’s not like a blood test. There is a lot that affects the assessment.”

“Exactly. All I’m asking is that you take another look at your results and see if there’s anything you might have missed.” He opened his drawer and withdrew a sheaf of papers, which he handed to her. “I called Springfield and got this information on students who have both a gifted-level IQ and a learning disability. Maybe they’ll point you in a different direction.”

“How did you get the state to respond so quickly? It takes them months when I request information.” Skye flipped through the pages in her lap.

“Friends in the right places.” He smiled insincerely. “You know. You do me a favor, then I owe you one. It’s how the big boys play.”

Little Boy Blue, Go Blow Your Horn

Skye had worked the rest of the day at the elementary school finishing up odds and ends. Now she sat in her borrowed Buick and considered her life. She couldn’t go to her cottage. She had called around and the fastest anyone would agree to come and fix the windows was in two weeks.

She still hadn’t gotten the insurance check so she couldn’t afford to buy a car. And now it looked like she might lose her job.

The superintendent’s wanting her to change her test results was so similar to the situation that had gotten her fired from her last school that she wondered if she had missed the day in graduate school when the professor told the class it was okay to falsify records if it meant keeping your job. In both cases her superior wanted her to lie in order to appease someone with power and money.

In New Orleans, the coordinator of special education had ordered her to withdraw her allegation of child abuse. Skye had refused to retract her report, even after the little girl was pressured into saying she had made the whole event up.

Could she go through that again? If she got fired this time, she’d never find another job as a school psychologist. Skye’s thoughts grew darker and she sank farther down in the seat, her chin resting on her chest. All those years of education would go down the tubes and she’d be left with nothing but her student loans to repay.

Squealing brakes and a slamming car door roused her from her rumination. Her heart started pounding faster when she heard the slap of leather soles on asphalt. Was someone else coming to harass her? Straightening from her slumped position, she was just in time to see Simon appear outside her windshield. He crossed his arms and looked down at her.

Skye opened the passenger door and motioned him inside.

“Have you been avoiding me?” Simon raised an eyebrow.

“No. My life just sort of got out of hand.”

“That seems to happen to you a lot.” His voice was steely.

She twitched, feeling that their relationship was another aspect of her life that was slipping out of her control. “Shoot. I’ve been meaning to call you.” It was good to see him, although he was clearly irritated with her. Even angry, he always seemed so calm, so together. She had always been attracted to sophisticated men. “Sorry.”

While Skye told him about being kidnapped by her cousins, the new set of crazy parents, and her broken windows, Simon put his arm around her and hugged her wordlessly. She deliberately left out the superintendent’s ultimatum, afraid to hear Simon’s advice.

“You’ve had a tough week.”

“Yes, I have. Before I forget, I wanted to thank you for the balloon bouquet.”

“I didn’t send you balloons. What are talking about?”

She shrugged and explained, concluding with, “I wonder who sent them.” I’ll have to call around and find out.

Simon’s eyes hardened, but he remained silent.

After a few seconds of wallowing in the comfort of his arms, Skye pulled away. Simon was such a take-charge kind of guy that she feared he would take over and “fix” her life if she showed the slightest indication of allowing that to happen. “Everything’s fine now. I was just a little shaken. Sorry to worry you.”

He took her face in his hands and leaned forward until their lips were touching. “When all this is settled, we need to have a serious talk.” He kissed her lightly and sat back.

Skye tried to keep her expression noncommittal as her thoughts raced. I can’t think about that right now.

Simon glanced at his Rolex and reached for the door handle. “Sorry to run off on you, but I’ve got a wake at four, and it takes at least half an hour to get everything set.”

“Sure, I understand. By the way, I’m staying with my parents until my windows are fixed, so call me there. I do plan on being at work tomorrow, since it’s the last day and I hate to miss the awards assembly. One of the kids I see for counseling won the essay contest.” Skye craned her neck to look up at him.

“I forgot to tell you why I was looking for you in the first place.” Simon squatted beside the open doorway, took her hands, and lowered his voice. “We got the results of your grandmother’s autopsy. She was poisoned.” He offered her the snowy white handkerchief from the breast pocket of his gray suit.

Skye waved it off. She wasn’t going to cry, even though she felt a catch in her throat and was saddened that someone had shortened a life that was already starting to wane. After a few moments of silence, she took a deep breath and asked, “How about Grandma’s housekeeper? It was her in the well, right?”

“Yes, it was her. We don’t have results of her autopsy back yet, probably tomorrow.”

“Do you anticipate any other cause of death?”

“No, it was probably the same poison that killed your grandmother.” A line formed between Simon’s brows. “The chief told me to share this information with you, but I can’t say I approve. It’s his investigation; still I don’t think he should be spreading evidence around. It’s hard enough to keep a secret in Scumble River.”

“Maybe the chief realizes that I can help in finding out what happened to my grandmother.” Skye shook off Simon’s hands, remembering how she disliked his arrogance, his belief that he was always right. “And since ninety-nine percent of my job requires confidentiality, Wally probably trusts me enough to know I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “There was a pan of brownies wedged in the well alongside Mrs. Jankowski. That’s apparently how the poison was administered. And the stomach contents of your grandmother contained brownies.”