folders that reached nearly to her chin. She’d gotten to know the teachers, now it was time to familiarize herself with the students. She pulled the first one off the top and opened it.
Johnny Adler. Evie studied the third-grader’s features from last year’s school picture, scanned the teacher’s comments about Johnny’s progress and behavior, and tried to place his face with his name.
Two hours had flown by when Evie reached the middle of the alphabet. She opened the folder containing records for Gemma Scarlett Muldoone and looked into mischievous brown eyes that immediately made Evie think of the girl’s father. Her hair was lighter than Billy’s, more the tan of a coconut and streaked with highlights the color of a new penny. The long waves were gathered into a neat ponytail with a bright green ribbon.
Smiling at the girl’s photo, Evie said, “Is this the child Helen Sweeney hinted was the terror of Heron Point? She looks so sweet.”
Evie flipped to the page containing Gemma’s vital information and gasped. Gemma’s record resembled a daily diary rather than a recap of educational milestones. Evie counted a dozen sheets of paper filled with comments from teachers and counselors and the previous principal.
When she’d reached the end of Gemma’s profile, Evie stuffed all the pages back into the folder and slammed it closed.
If a child is believed to be bad, or rumored to be bad, or expected to be bad, he will behave badly.
“I refuse to read a single word of this,” she said. “I will not be prejudiced by past opinions about this girl. It’s a new year, and every child deserves a clean slate.”
She couldn’t imagine the easy-going, self-assured cop she’d met raising a child who had a problem following rules. Evie didn’t know what had happened to Gemma’s mother—if she had died or if Billy and she were divorced—but she did know that Billy’s mother lived with them. Gemma had the input of both her father and grandmother.
Evie shoved the folder aside, picked up a pencil and began tapping it on her desk. Just because Billy was a capable cop, didn’t mean he was a competent father. She’d encountered many parents who, in her opinion, weren’t qualified for the job. Plus there were those who’d been willing and interested parents but not necessarily good ones. From this perspective, Evie was able to rationalize her growing desire to know more about Billy.
Her tapping grew more insistent as she recalled his announcement that he would call her sometime. He’d said it in front of Gail, so she assumed they didn’t have a relationship. And he wouldn’t have mentioned calling her at all if he hadn’t intended to do it, would he?
She spun her chair around to stare out the corner window. “Of course he would,” she said. “It was a casual comment, nothing more. Billy probably had no intention of calling despite what you let yourself believe and despite what Helen said about the overzealous cop.” Evie had to take Billy’s comment as just what it was—a local guy’s good-humored welcome to a newcomer. And that was just as well. Evie’s focus should be on Gemma, not the girl’s father.
Billy’s ruggedly handsome face evaporated from Evie’s mind at a knock on her door. “Come in,” she said, turning away from her view of the outside world.
Mary Alice stuck her head inside. “Sorry to bother you, Miss Gaynor, but we have a problem.”
“Oh?”
“One of our mothers is outside with her son and another student. It seems there was an incident on the playground before she came to pick up her child.”
“What? School hasn’t even started yet.”
Mary Alice shrugged. “We let the kids use the facilities all year long. These two were playing on the equipment. Shall I send them in?”
“Of course.” Evie rose. A girl entered first, and Evie’s gaze traveled from her pretty, pixie face and sun-streaked dark hair to the folder she’d just finished perusing. The girl’s familiar brown eyes glittered with indignation.
“This is Gemma Muldoone,” Mary Alice said, nudging the student farther into the room so the others could enter. The secretary introduced a slightly taller, husky boy as Bernard Hutchinson. “And this is Bernard’s mother,” she said. “Missy Hutchinson.”
Once everyone was inside, Mary Alice quickly slipped out and closed the door behind her. Evie faced three scowling faces. “What’s happened?”
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Missy declared. She pushed her son forward. “Look at him.”
Once she got a good look at Bernard’s shirt, Evie jumped back a step. “Good heavens. He’s covered with bugs!”
“You’re telling me,” Missy said. “They’re glued on.”
Regaining her composure, Evie advanced toward Bernard. She reached out and tentatively touched a lifelike roach, half expecting it to dart from under her finger. It didn’t. It remained immobile as one would expect from glued plastic. “They’re not real.”
“Thank heavens for that!” Missy said. “But they’ve ruined his shirt just the same.” She jabbed a finger toward Gemma’s head. “And her father can darned well replace it. I don’t care if he does only make a policeman’s salary. This shirt cost thirty dollars.”
Thirty dollars? For a kid’s play shirt? Evie refrained from commenting. “Did you do this?” she asked Gemma Muldoone.
“Why are you asking her?” Missy practically squealed. “I just told you she did. This child would lie about anything.”
Evie held up a hand. “Excuse me, Mrs. Hutchinson, but will you let me handle this?”
Missy released a pent-up breath and tugged at a caterpillar on Bernard’s collar. “See? They don’t come off.”
Evie pulled a chair next to Gemma. “Sit down, please.”
The girl’s chin thrust forward. “I don’t want to.”
“But I would like you to, so please do it.”
Gemma sat, appearing more like a wooden statue than a flesh-and-blood child.
“Now, I’d like you to tell me if you glued bugs to Bernard’s shirt and, if so, why you did it.”
Gemma’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I’m not saying I did, but if I did, it was because Bernard said I wasn’t going on any field trips this year.”
“Why would Bernard say that?”
“Because he’s mean and stupid.”
Missy fisted her hands on her hips. “There, you see? That’s what you’re dealing with, Miss Gaynor. A vandal and a name-caller.”
Evie sighed. “Please, Mrs. Hutchinson. There’s no need to resort to more name-calling.” She leaned over to be closer to Bernard’s height. “Did you tell Gemma that she wasn’t going on any field trips?”
“Sure. She’s not. She didn’t go on any last year—after the first one.”
Missy nodded
