“That is the Oak Ridge Elementary emblem,” Marilyn said, her voice dropping to a low, urgent whisper.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“I know that acorn logo anywhere,” she said, her fingers jiggling her car keys inside her bathrobe pocket. “I saw it on fifty permission slips when my boys were small. What is Donald doing with school records at midnight?”
“He says he found it in the filing cabinet in the basement,” I said, scrolling down to read the faint handwriting at the bottom of the page.
The photo was slightly cut off at the margins, but the printed text was clear enough to read under the single bulb of the floor lamp.
It was a safety report form, dated September fourteenth, with Carolyn’s name typed in the student information block.
“Look, Marilyn, why would Nancy have this in her possession?” I asked, pointing to the screen.
