“He told me to come in quietly in civilian clothes so we could settle the paperwork thing without any fuss.”

“He wanted you to be late,” Kenneth said.

“He wanted Matty sitting there alone when the assembly started,” I said.

I turned the key.

The diesel engine roared to life and shook the steering wheel in my hands.

“Shoreline Middle School is eleven miles down Pacific Avenue,” Kenneth said, checking his phone.

“Traffic’s light by the inlet bridge, but the school zone light goes red at eleven.”

I backed the heavy truck off the sand apron and spun the wheel hard toward the paved road.