“Master Chief Merrick,” Wyler said, his clipped voice bouncing off the hard vinyl floor tiles.

“Lieutenant,” I said, coming to a stop at the desk.

Valerie gave a quick smile, but her thumbs stayed locked tight around the silver pen.

Wyler reached down to the wooden counter and lifted Matty’s white index card.

“I’m going over the speaker roster for Friday’s assembly,” Wyler said, holding the card up at eye level.

“Your son filled in section four.”

He pointed a manicured thumbnail at the handwritten line.