“Settle down, boys.

Open your social studies workbooks to page forty-two.”

Matty folded the blue paper in half twice and slid it deep into his green canvas folder where nobody else could see the red ink.

At eleven o’clock the high ceilings of the Little Creek EOD workshop smelled of machine oil, salty air and wet floor sealant.

Kenneth Oakes was sitting on an upside-down plastic crate near the transport kennels, using a half-inch box wrench to tighten the side latch on Rex’s travel crate.

Kenneth tapped the side of his heavy steel-toe boot with the metal wrench, three steady clicks against the leather.