Valerie Thorne was waiting under the emergency exit sign.

She had her silver ballpoint pen locked between both thumbs, digging the metal clip into her skin until her knuckles went white.

“He took Matty down to the middle of the gym,” Valerie whispered.

I kept my hands flat at my sides.

“Who took him?”

“Lieutenant Wyler,” she said, looking past my shoulder at the closed double doors at the end of the hall.

“He called Matty down out of the bleachers five minutes ago.