Chapter 26

The inside of the station felt cool but impersonal. White paint covered everything from the concrete floors to the cinder block walls. The doors were heavy oak and only a few signs broke up the starkness of the hall Stanfield led me into.

The back of the station must have had the city jail as well. An inmate moved along wearing orange jumpers and plastic slippers, pushing a tall cart with shelves of food trays. He watched us with dull dark eyes as we passed him. For an instant, the sight of him made me glad that I hadn’t been arrested by Fannin. It was a good deterrent against me getting smart with the police. But then, I wouldn’t be talking to the police. Homeland Security probably had even less of a sense of humor than the police.

Stanfield led me down another hallway that looked almost identical to the one we just left. He stopped next to a door about halfway down the hall. A sign above the door said, “Interview.” Stanfield didn’t say anything. He simply opened the door and walked in.

The room was just as plain and white as the halls had been. It was wide, taking up much of the length of the hallway outside. At one end was a line of filing cabinets with books and folders stacked on top of them. Chairs were stacked in front of the last filing cabinet. Maybe they didn’t have a storage room for those filing cabinets or chairs. Several fluorescent lights flooded the room with plenty of light, especially since there were no windows. And at the other end of the room was a large mirror. I could imagine any number of video cameras mounted on tripods recording every move I made. There were probably several microphones in the room too, so anything I said could be recorded and played back later as often as they’d like. In the middle of the room, there was an oblong table and several chairs similar to the ones stacked in the corner. The chairs all had metal frames and hard plastic seats and backs. They didn’t look very comfortable.

Stanfield, held out his hand, indicating one of the chairs on the far side of the table from the door. Fabulous. I wasn’t a suspect, but I was going to be treated like one. Did that mean I could ask for a lawyer and say nothing?

I moved past Stanfield and took the middle chair. No, empty chairs could not effectively bar anyone from me, but I wasn’t in the mood to make it any easier for anyone.

Stanfield went over to the filing cabinets. He pulled out some paper and a pen and then came over to the table. He sat down across from me. “We need you to write down everything that you told me Thursday night. Try to be as thorough as possible. He slid the paper over in front of me and held out the pen.

I nodded and took the pen.

“I’ll be back when you’re finished,” he said and glanced at the mirror. Then he stood up and left the room.

So, he was going to leave me alone in the room so I wouldn’t be disturbed, but he was going to keep an eye on me from behind the mirror. I wasn’t sure if that was clever or protocol. Whichever the case, I focused on the paper and set to writing.

I finished with my statement from Thursday night fairly quickly and decided to go ahead and get the statement from this morning out of the way too. Unfortunately, I didn’t know how to proceed. After finding out that Homeland Security had formed a task force regarding Anthony Hoyle’s death and the other deaths in the same case, I wasn’t sure I wanted to put down anything that made me out to be more than I seemed to be. I decided not to use words like ‘indestructible’, ‘superhuman’, or ‘aura.’ Once that was decided, filling out the statement was easy. When I finished, I pushed the paper over to the corner of the table and sat back.

Stanfield came back in a minute later. He picked up the papers and looked them over. He looked up and held them out to me. “I need you to sign these.”

I signed the two statements and handed them back, along with the pen. He put the pen back in the filing cabinet and then nodded at the door. “C’mon.”

I got up and followed him out of the room. We went down the hall, turned away from the door that led to the parking lot out back, and then turned down a different hall with another interview room. He opened the door and went inside. I looked but didn’t follow. Don’t ask me why, I just got the impression I wasn’t supposed to be in there.

The room looked similar to the other interview room, only this one had a map on the wall as well as pictures of a dozen people with notes all around them. Three other people were in there, all in suits. A woman wearing a pin-striped skirt suit. Her aura was mustard yellow and looked excited when Stanfield handed her my statement. A man standing next to her was taller than me by several inches. He had curly dirty blond hair that reminded me of an old dirty natural sponge and wore a light gray suit. He looked over the woman’s shoulders at the statement. His aura, a shade of red that reminded me of ketchup, was fairly neutral but quickly shifted to disappointment as he read. The other person was an older man with small round dark glasses. He suffered from male pattern baldness and fought that by cutting his hair so short he almost looked completely bald. He wore a charcoal gray tailored suit. His aura was ocean blue and lit up as bright as Rachel’s aura was lit, if not brighter. He looked directly at me and I got the impression, not through his expression or his aura, that he was seeing more than just a college freshman.

Stanfield noticed where the man with the bright aura was looking. He grabbed one of the hard plastic chairs and brought it over to me. “Have a seat, Mr. Sutton,” He said, nodding at the hallway. “They’re not ready to talk to you yet.”

I nodded and took the chair. I set it against the wall across from the door, turned, and sat down. Stanfield nodded and then gently closed the door, shutting me out. More than likely, they would read my statement, which did not include me seeing auras or the woman’s face, and then they would bring me in to answer their questions. I could wait for a little while as if I had a choice.

I thought about Eric. I was sure he was still in the hospital. Had he woken up? Would Mr. and Mrs. Patterson fly in to be with him? What would I tell him about Dan? Well, I was sure Grace and Rachel would fill him in on Dan’s current situation. Would they share my secret with him? I was sure Rachel could maintain a straight face if questioned, but I didn’t know Grace well enough to know how she’d react.

I wouldn’t worry about that now. For now, I had to focus on what was ahead of me. I closed my eyes. I wanted to go for that run Rachel suggested, not to run away from this place, but just to help me unwind and relax. Yes, running helped me relax. I recalled running with Rachel the day before. I remembered the route we took and how her golden ponytail bounced. I remembered that, while we ran, I didn’t see her aura. To me, her aura didn’t reappear until after we finished with our cool-down stretches.

The door opened. It was loud like someone had turned up the volume of a movie and then turned it back down again. I opened my eyes.

Stanfield stood there with his jacket in his hand like they had been working for a while and he now had to leave. “They’re ready to see you,” he said.

I stood up and walked in.

The others were all sitting this time. The woman and the tall man were sitting at the table. The man with the glasses sat in the far corner of the room, next to the mirror. It made it possible for anyone on the other side of the mirror to record what happened in the room but not see him, and if he didn’t say anything then there would be nothing to suggest that he was ever in the room. If he only wanted to observe, he could go into the room on the other side of the mirror. Why stay but hide from the recordings? More than that, there was something odd about the three of them, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

Stanfield held out his hand toward the woman first. “Ral Sutton, this is Special Agent Rochelle,” he turned to the man next to her, “Special Agent Middleton,” and then held his hand up at the man in the back, “and Colonel Polanco.”

Each of them nodded as Stanfield said their names. I nodded in return, not sure what agents from Homeland Security wanted or why there was a Colonel with them.

The woman smiled and held out her hand, indicating the only remaining chair at the table. “Please, Mr. Sutton, have a seat.”

I sat down and she asked, “Do you need anything to drink or maybe a snack? I understand you’ve had a busy morning.”

She was right, I hadn’t eaten anything yet. I was hungry. Then I heard her say, “Take it, kid. We need a sample of your DNA.”

I frowned and looked at her. She still had a pleasant expression but ... I realized what was odd. None of them had their auras. Not even Stanfield. What was going on?

“Are you feeling okay, Mr. Sutton?” Middleton asked.

I looked at him. He looked concerned but as I studied his face, I heard him say, “Please tell me you’re not on drugs,” without moving his lips.

I licked my lips. I was hearing their thoughts, just like I had done at dinner with my friends on Friday night and last night at House Vikkor. I wasn’t having the headache spikes this time though. Was that because I wasn’t seeing auras at the same time? One thing was for certain, I couldn’t let them figure out that I was hearing more than they wanted me to. I finally shrugged my shoulders. “I’m fine.” I looked up at Stanfield. “Water, if you don’t mind.”

If they wanted my DNA, they would have to compel it with a court order. I would keep the water bottle with me and refill it when I left.

Stanfield nodded and left.

I wasn’t sure why, but I wasn’t scared for some reason. I was intrigued. More than that, I also didn’t fear these agents. They had been too excited about getting my statement. They had to know that I didn’t know the identity of the woman from the alley unless Stanfield told them while I had been out in the hall waiting. Looking at them now, I didn’t know if that was the case or not. If he had, they would ask me questions about how I had identified the woman. If they didn’t ask those questions, then he hadn’t told them and they were excited about something else. So, if they weren’t after information about the woman, then what was their game?

“Why don’t we get started while we wait?” Rochelle said.

Middleton nodded and then said, “I dare you to deny what we’ve got on you,” without moving his lips.

I did my best to remain calm, and relaxed. Who knew how long this would last? For that matter, who knew whether what I was hearing was from either of them? It sounded like it was their voices, but I could have been wrong.

Rochelle glanced at the papers inside of a folder in front of her and said, “You told the police that you saw a woman in the alley on Thursday night.” She looked up. Her dark auburn hair was held back from her face leaving it open for me to see how her expression had shifted in intensity. “As if you could have seen anyone there,” she said without moving her lips and then asked with her real voice, “What did she look like?”

Without seeing her aura, I had no idea what she was feeling. I had never realized how lost I would feel without the auras. I was pretty sure she would doubt anything I said, but then, like the police, she was probably trained to be suspicious of everyone automatically. I answered from the perspective of that night. All three listened intently, not interrupting. The only details I left out again were the woman’s face and aura.

Rochelle looked at the papers again. “Well, you’ve either memorized those details or the answer to the question.” She looked back up. “That’s almost exactly what you told the police.”

She must have had copies of the police reports in front of her, but I didn’t like the way she said I had memorized the answer. “Why would I change what I said?”

Middleton ignored my question. “We were in the alley last night, recreating the scene. We each took turns standing on the street, where you told the police you stood and saw the man and the woman. There are no lights in that alley, it was after midnight, and neither of us could see the other. How did you see any details at all?”

I told him the same thing I had told Stanfield that night. “I have very good night vision. I always have.”

“I’ll bet you do,” Rochelle said as she looked at the papers again. “The report says you didn’t see the woman’s face.” She looked up. “If you don’t know what she looked like, then you won’t be much help in finding her.” The intense gaze she leveled on me was accompanied by the thought, “Come on kid. Tell us what you saw.”

What I saw? What was going on here? What gave them the impression that I had seen more than what I told the police? Had he told them what we discussed in the car? Were they looking for proof? I had to stick to what she said out loud. “Then I don’t understand why you want to talk to me. You’ve read the police report. It says I didn’t see her face.”

Rochelle closed the file folder. She looked calm and patient, but without seeing her aura, I couldn’t be sure. Agent Middleton looked relaxed but there was an eagerness in his eyes that I didn’t understand. A glance told me that Colonel Polanco was willing to wait. He had enough patience to sit there for days. But what was he waiting for?

There was a knock at the door. Stanfield came in, handed me my bottle of water, and left without a word. I was so hungry and thirsty that I opened it and drank it all in one.

The agents waited until I was finished. Rochelle held out her hand. “Would you like to throw that away?”

I shook my head. “I’ll refill it when we’re finished. There’s too much plastic in the landfills as it is.”

She nodded and I heard her say, “Whatever, I want that bottle,” without moving her lips.

“Mr. Sutton,” said Middleton, and I looked at him. “You know more about that night than you’re telling us.”

I could feel my eyebrows attempting to climb up into my hairline. I must have looked as confused as I felt. “What more could I possibly know?” It sounded convincing even to me.

Rochelle pulled another file folder to the top of her stack. From the folder, she pulled out a picture and set it on the table in front of me so I could see it. It was me in the mall with my shield on my arm. It was a shot was of my profile. I could tell that it was me, but the quality wasn’t very good, as if the photo had been made from a video frame while I was in mid-motion.

She pointed at the picture. “Can you explain that?”

I knew it! They were after more than just Anthony Hoyle’s killer. “That photo isn’t of the alley or the crime I was asked to come here to talk about.”

Rochelle nodded. “True, but other events have occurred since Thursday night that you have been involved in. If you’re to take the stand as a witness in Thursday night’s murder, we need to know what your involvement was in each incident so that your credibility cannot be questioned.”

Sure, and I would be sprouting a second head when I got home this afternoon.

She tapped the photo. “Can you explain this photo?”

She continued to be vague. I didn’t like it. “What do you want to know exactly?”

Middleton leaned in. “You know what we’re talking about Mr. Sutton.”

I looked at him. “No, why don’t you tell me?” Making them mad was probably a bad idea, but they were beginning to spook me. Fine, they had found out about Friday night, and they knew something about what happened this morning, but that didn’t mean I had to admit anything to them.

Middleton held up the photo. “What is that on your arm?”

I looked at the photo, giving it my full attention. He hadn’t asked which arm. “I can’t quite tell. The quality of the photo isn’t very good.”

“If you don’t start talking, I’m gonna kick your ass from here to Washington!” he thought and then said, “You know perfectly well what I mean Mr. Sutton. What is that shimmering round thing floating on your arm?”

I shook my head. “You’d have to ask whoever took the picture.”

He shook his head. “It was a video and we already know you’ve seen it.”