"Well, that's easy." She kept the image of Bernard on the monitor and pulled up the information on another screen. The woman knew how to work the keyboard and she had obviously figured out what they wanted, because she tracked Evan Bernard's movements as he packed up his briefcase, left his classroom, walked down the hall, exited the building, got into his red Volvo C30 and drove away.

Will tried not to get excited. "When did he return?"

The parking lot was still on the monitor, and she fast-forwarded the camera until Evan Bernard's Volvo showed back up. The car slid into the parking space, stopping on a dime. Bernard got out, glancing around nervously as he adjusted his tie. He ran toward the building. Will thought Colleen was still fast-forwarding, but he saw that the man was, in fact, jogging.

"One thirty-two," McFaden noted from the time stamp. "He was late for class."

The next frame showed Bernard running down the hall. "Back it up," Will said. Something was different, and not just the man's disheveled appearance.

Colleen worked the keys and froze the frame on Evan Bernard as he jogged down the hall. He was looking right up at the camera. His hair was messed up, his tie skewed.

Will asked, "Can you leave that there and pull up the image of him leaving the first time?"

Colleen went to work, and he stared at the live image of Bernard in his classroom. The teacher was still pacing up and down between the desks, still droning on about literature.

McFaden was still incredulous. "I don't understand how this can happen. Mr. Bernard has been teaching with us for twelve years. There was nothing in his background—"

"You did a check, right?"

"Of course," McFaden told him. "It's state law. All school employees are screened by the police department before we can hire them."

"Oh, my Lord," Colleen whispered. Will saw that she had captured the images of Bernard leaving the school and returning side by side. "He changed his clothes."

The shirts were the same color, but the style looked different. His pants went from black to khaki. Will remembered what Beckey from the lab had told him earlier. Kayla Alexander wasn't the only source of DNA matching Evan Bernard. The seat swatch Charlie had cut out of the Prius had contained traces of Bernard's sperm, too. Of course, none of that got them closer to linking Bernard to Emma Campano. Even if they found a way to get a DNA sample from the teacher, all they could prove was that the teacher had at some point had sex in the Prius with Kayla Alexander.

The telephone on the desk rang. McFaden answered it, then handed the receiver to Will.

Amanda demanded, "Why aren't you answering your phone?"

Will patted his pocket, feeling the pieces of plastic move around.

Amanda didn't wait for his answer. "Did you catch him?"

Will looked at the monitor, Evan Bernard pacing the classroom. "We're waiting until he makes the ransom call."

"He already made it," she told him. "The proof of life was the same tape as yesterday, Will. I told him we had to have a new one or the deal is off."

"Is he going to call back?"

"Four o'clock," she said.

Will checked the digital clock on the wall. Ten thirty-three. "I've been watching Bernard the whole time. He hasn't left the classroom and he hasn't made a call."

"Shit," she hissed. "He's got an accomplice."

*

WILL KNOCKED ON Evan Bernard's classroom door. The man seemed surprised to find him standing there.

"Agent Trent? Come in."

Will shut the door behind him.

"Actually, leave that open. I've got students coming."

"My partner's keeping them out in the hall."

"I'm glad you're here." Bernard picked up a book off his desk. There were triangles and squares in various colors on the cover. "This is a copy of Emma's reading textbook. I thought maybe you could use it."

"I just wanted to go over a couple of things you said."

"All right." He put the book on the desk, then used his sleeve to wipe the cover, telling Will, "Sorry, I smudged it up a bit."

Will wasn't concerned about fingerprints. "You seemed pretty certain that whoever wrote those notes was illiterate. I'm really not sure what you mean by illiterate, though. I mean, is it like dyslexia? Is that some sort of spectrum diagnosis where somebody can be at one end or the other?"

"Well." He sat on the edge of his desk. "The traditional definition of literacy concerns reading and writing abilities, the ability to use language, to speak in a fluent manner. Then, of course, you could take that out to the next logical step and use it to define a certain level of class or culture." He smiled, enjoying himself. "So, to say someone is illiterate, you would be employing the Latin, ‘il,' meaning not or without. Without reading skills, without fluency."

"Without class or culture?" Will asked, gathering from Evan Bernard's cockiness that he had expected the police to turn up on his doorstep. The arrest in Savannah was public record. The man had probably been wondering what was taking them so long.

As if to prove the point, there was a devious lilt to the teacher's tone. "One could say."

"That sounds a little different from the language you used yesterday."

"Yesterday I was in a meeting with my peers."

Will smiled at the dig. He was glad to find the man underestimating him. "What about someone who is functionally illiterate?"

"Strictly going by definition, it is as it sounds. A person who is able to function, or ‘pass' if you will, in the real world."

"And you're sure that's the sort of person who wrote those notes?"

"As I said on the phone, I'm not an expert."

"You're an expert in something, aren't you?"

He had the audacity to wink. "Let's just say that I know a little bit about a lot of things."

Will leaned against the closed door, casually crossed his arms. There was a security camera mounted in the corner on the wall opposite. Will knew that he was in the camera's frame, just as he knew that Evan Bernard had signed away his right to privacy when the school had installed the security system. It was to the teacher's benefit at the time, because it meant any spurious allegations of sexual misconduct could be quickly dismissed. On the other hand, it also meant that anything Bernard said or did right now was being recorded on equipment owned by the school, and as such, was completely admissible.

Will said, "I guess you're familiar with your rights. They read them to you when you were arrested in Savannah, right?"

His smile didn't falter. "That was two years ago, Mr. Trent, as I'm sure you know. She was fifteen, she told me she was twenty-one. You're barking up the wrong tree here. This is all just a misunderstanding."

"How's that?"

"I met her in a bar where alcohol is served. I assumed they checked her ID when they let her in."

"If you weren't guilty, why did you plead to reckless endanger-ment of a minor?"

He held up his finger. "Not a minor. That would be a felony. I was only charged with a misdemeanor."

Will felt a chill from his words. The man was not frightened of being accused, let alone being caught. "Evan, you need to start thinking about what your options are, the best course you can take to make this go easy for you."