Free Privileged to Kill by Steven F. Havill

be some who knew a little about fifteen-year-old Maria Ibarra.
    Maybe one or two would know quite a bit.

9
    I entered Principal Glen Archer’s office with relief. The halls behind me were filling rapidly with noisy kids, a vast sea of people-to-be, and Archer’s office was a quiet island. I had met Sergeant Robert Torrez in the lobby and reminded him that I didn’t want Officer Thomas Pasquale out of his sight for ten seconds. I had no illusions that they would find anything under the bleachers beyond what we already had. But daylight was always a different story. We could always hope.
    By the time Torrez and Deputy Eddie Mitchell finished combing the bleachers and the rubble under them, we’d be sure.
    Archer closed the door and indicated a couple of chairs. “Sit, sit,” he said to Estelle and me. His forehead was furrowed with worry and fatigue. “This has really thrown us for a loop. I just can’t believe it. This is the sort of thing that happens in big cities.” He shook his head. “It still might have been better if we’d just closed for the day.” He glanced at me and didn’t receive any support. “Do you want the counselor in on this?”
    “Not just yet,” I said.
    “Coffee?”
    “No, thanks. Glen, what can you tell us about Maria Ibarra?”
    He sat down heavily and rubbed his face. His complexion was pasty from lack of sleep and marbles could have tracked in the dark gutters under his eyes. “Before we get into that, let me ask you something. None of the deputies I spoke with earlier this morning would say whether this is a murder we’re working with, or what. I mean, what exactly happened to this girl, do we know?”
    “Not yet. Dr. Guzman is working up a preliminary autopsy. Until he gives us something…” I shrugged. “Right now we’re treating it as a homicide. That’s all that makes sense.”
    Glen Archer sighed and shook his head. “I knew who Maria Ibarra was. That’s about it. And that’s a hell of a thing for the principal of a small school to have to say. But that’s the size of it. I understand from Sergeant Torrez that you’re looking for the parents.” He shrugged. “I don’t know how much help we’ll be. I don’t think her situation was too…too…” He waved his hands, groping for the right words. Finally he settled for, “I’m not sure who she was living with. I was going to do some digging, but the sergeant told me to hold off.”
    “How many kids do you have attending school now?”
    “In this building? About three hundred and eighty, grades seven through twelve. Across the parking lot, K through six is about two seventy. Give or take.”
    “What grade was Maria in?”
    “We placed her in eighth grade. Being fifteen, maybe she should have gone into ninth, but she was small for her age. And Pat—Patricia Hyde—thought that she wasn’t ready for high school yet. She was very bright, apparently, but she spoke very little English.”
    “When did she check in?”
    “Late September. Maybe the first week in October. So she’s only been here a week or two, maybe a little longer.”
    “And you never met her parents? Or guardians?”
    Archer shook his head slowly. “I didn’t see her that day at all. Pat processed her enrollment. Let me call her in here.”
    “Just a minute,” I said. “Before you do that, let me ask you a couple other things. We have reason to believe that close to the time that the girl’s body was discovered, two vehicles were parked behind the school. We don’t know yet if there is a connection.”
    “There are lots of dark corners on this campus, Sheriff.”
    “Yes, there are. How many kids drive their own vehicles to school?”
    “You think a student was involved in this?” His forehead furrows deepened. “I guess it makes sense that there would be.”
    “I don’t know.” My response was bald and unsympathetic, but it was the truth. “If there was a student involved in the death, and if that student was in one of those