Masters of the Veil (3 page)

CHAPTER 4

T
he loud ringing caused Sam to open his eyes. After a few moments of cloudy vision and confusion, he realized he was in his car in the school parking lot.

Did I faint? What happened?

The persistent cell phone snapped him out of his trance.

“H-Hello?”

“Where have you been?” his mother screeched.

“What do you mean? I just fell asleep for a moment in the car, I guess.”

“You’ve been gone for three hours!”

“Three hours?”

“I must’ve called you fifty times! Do you know what that’s like for a mother? Especially after what happened at the game. Your father is furious!”

“Tell Pop to relax, I’m awake now. I guess the game really tired me out. I fell asleep is all.”

“I called all sorts of parents!” Her voice was almost a pitch only bats could hear. “I drove all over looking for you!”

“Why didn’t you check the parking lot?”

“Don’t you talk back to me! And now, of all things, the police are here. You have no idea how—”

Sam cut her off. “What? Why?”

“They think you hurt that player from the other team.” Her voice quivered. “I told them there’s no way my boy would ever hurt someone on purpose, but they’re still here.”

“Ma, I swear, it’s all a misunderstanding.”

“They want to ask you some questions.”

“All I did was grab his shoulder.”

“Just get back here this instant, young man!”

Sam sighed. “I’ll be home soon.”

He snapped his phone shut and continued squeezing until the plastic groaned.

The police? Why was everything falling apart?

Outside, only a few scattered cars remained in the lot—probably the janitorial staff cleaning up after the game. His mother hadn’t exaggerated—he’d been out cold for a while.

He started to shake the groggy feeling from his head, and then groaned.

Everything’s ruined.

Something moved in his peripheral vision. He twisted to get a better look.

That’s it
.
I’m actually going crazy
.

Little black swirls about the size of his palm drifted through the air. They appeared solid and floated delicately through the dark, unattached to anything, trailing in a lazy circle around the car.

Sam grasped the lever on the side of his seat and lowered the back as far as it would go. His chest thumped as he stared at the air freshener dangling from his rear-view mirror.

A few swirls passed in front of the windshield, and Sam jerked his eyes to the roof.

They’ll go away in a minute. Breathe. You’re just tired.

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, exhaling through his teeth. After a dozen slow repetitions, he felt his body start to relax.

Assuring himself that he was still sane, he sat back up and examined the parking lot.

A few sweeps confirmed that the swirls had retreated into his imagination.

Giving a relieved sigh, he opened the door and stepped out into the deserted lot.

“Oh, wonderful.”

His car had been trashed… literally.

While he’d been asleep, people must have walked past and shown their true colors.

Not the Grizzly green and gold.

Sam swiped at the empty soda-bottles on his roof and sent them flying across the parking lot. With a grimace, he picked off the hot dogs one by one, tossing them aside, the buzzing flies following the old meat to the asphalt. He’d hose off the globs of condiments when he got home.

Loser.

He bent down and placed a palm against the message that’d been keyed into the driver’s side door.

Tonight was supposed to have been the night that he became the town hero and was whisked off by scouts for a full ride at a Division I school. It was not supposed to be the night some freaky daze came over the crowd—something only he could see. And now the police were at his house? He could be in serious trouble for something he hadn’t even done.

Sam dragged a rubber trash bin over to his car. He brushed the rest of the garbage into it, and then wiped his hands on his pants, adding ketchup and mustard to the grass stains.

What the heck had happened back there? Had he just imagined the whole crowd freezing up? And what had made the cornerback drop when Sam had grabbed his shoulder? And why was he imagining little black swirly things?

Am I losing my mind?

He took the familiar route through the town’s small, winding streets, and then back through the cornfields and farmhouses on near-empty roads. Two police cars, their lights dark, lined the curb in front of his house as Sam pulled into his driveway. He took a deep breath and pulled the keys out of the ignition.

“Sam!” His mother’s voice made him wince. “Finally!” She flew out and embraced him. “I was so worried!” Tears flowed down her cheeks.

“I’m all right, Ma.” Sam pulled out of her grip as he stepped around her and into the house. “I told you, I just fell asleep.”

Three police officers—including Officer Gaetani—held coffee mugs in an awkward row on the living room couch. Sam’s father overflowed the La-Z-Boy as he took long swigs of beer straight from the bottle. He didn’t even look over when Sam came through the door.

“Sam,” his mother whispered, “just deny everything. They can’t prove that you hit that boy.”

“I didn’t hit him!”

The lights flickered in the hallway.

“Hush, hush.” His mother patted his arm. “No matter what happens, I’ll still love you and I’ll always be there for you.”

“Has everyone gone crazy?”

Sam pushed past his mother and went into the living room.

The police officers stood up.

“Sam.”

“Officer Gaetani,” Sam nodded.

“This is Officer Curcio and Officer Palazzolo.”

Sam gave a slight nod to each of them before casting a look over at the La-Z-Boy.

“Hey, Pop.”

His father took another long swig of the beer.

Officer Palazzolo gave a small cough.

“Right,” Officer Gaetani said. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about this, but we need to ask you a few things about the incident at the game.”

“That’s fine, but I’m telling you, something weird happened. I honestly didn’t hit him. I just touched his shoulder and he fell.”

“That’s fine, that’s fine. The thing is, though… we’re going to have to take you down to the station to get your statement.”

“What?” Sam’s voice rose. “Why?”

“I’m sorry, son. Apparently the Skyline player is really hurt. Since you’re not a minor anymore, you’re just going to have to come with us and—”

“He’s just a boy!” his mother said. “Can’t you just talk to him here?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I promise you this, I’ll have him home as quick as I possibly can. You have my word on that.”

“I really don’t have it in me to go right now.” Sam tried to keep his voice as calm as possible. “Can we maybe just do it tomorrow, after I get some sleep?”

“Sorry, it has to be now.”

Sam clenched his fists and tried to hold back the scream that filled his head.

“Okay, son.” Officer Palazzolo moved to the door.

“Please, can’t you just let my boy get some sleep? He’s only—”

Sam’s father finally spoke. “Just let them take him.”

“But Dad, I—”

“GET HIM OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

Sam’s throat closed.

Gaetani broke the awkward silence. “Okay Sam, let’s get moving, so we can have you home soon.”

“Fine.” Sam looked back from the front door. His mother’s tears caught the light from the hallway as his father drained the last drops of his bottle.

Maybe it’s a good time not to be here, after all.

Gaetani let him sit in the front of one of the cruisers. He gave Sam a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now.”

Sam stared out of the window. “If it’s all the same to you, I don’t really feel like talking at the moment.”

Gaetani hesitated for a moment and turned on the engine. “I know you’re scared, son.”

“I’m not scared, and stop calling me ‘son.’”

“I want to help in any way that I can. Is there anything that you want to tell me before we get to the station?”

What could he say?
Gee, Officer, some freaky voodoo happened at the game and I’m the only one it didn’t affect. And my head felt like someone was hitting it with a mallet from the inside when I grabbed that guy’s shoulder, but I never came close to punching him
. He wanted to scream at the world, and he wanted someone—even just one person—to believe him!

Sam said nothing.

Am I going to go to jail? No, they wouldn’t put me in jail for that. Didn’t anyone in the stadium see what really happened?

They reached the aging, grey police station in a matter of minutes. The other officers had pulled off the road at an all-night coffee shop, leaving just Sam and Gaetani to go in together. When Sam had been in third grade, he’d taken a tour of the department. Back then, it’d been a cause for joy—a day off from school. Now he’d rather have to re-take all his classes than face what was coming. The station house looked a lot smaller than he remembered. White paint peeled off the trim, and the wooden stairs threatened nasty splinters if he dared trip. Sam followed the officer through the metal detectors and they were buzzed through the door leading past the protective Plexiglas barrier to the rest of the station.

A stocky man came out of nowhere. “Officer Gaetani. I just wanted to apologize for what happened before. I was out of—” His jaw dropped as he stared at Sam. “It’s
you
.”

Sam flushed.
Guess even this guy was at the game tonight.

“Huh?” Gaetani frowned. “Of course it’s him. You asked us to bring him in.”

The man’s bald head shone with sweat and his eyes were totally bloodshot… no, they weren’t bloodshot, just oddly red. And those hungry, red eyes drilling into him made Sam want to run.

Without a word, the man seized Sam’s arm and dragged him deeper into the station.

“Sir, what are you doing?”

The Lieutenant didn’t answer Gaetani. The grip on Sam’s arm was cutting off the circulation.

“Lieutenant!”

“Let go of me!” Sam forced himself not to yank his arm away—he knew better than to get into an altercation with a cop.

“Sir, what are you doing?” Gaetani trailed behind them. “This is entirely inappropriate.”

“Flathand,” the Lieutenant grunted.

Isn’t this illegal?

Gaetani clenched his fists. “I’ll be right back, Sam.”

Trickles of apprehension ran down Sam’s neck.

What’s this guy’s problem?

“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?” Sam asked as the Lieutenant pulled him down the dim hallway. Stopping in front of a door, the gruff man finally let go of him long enough to reach into his pocket for a key ring. He pushed Sam forward into the dark room. Once he’d hit the switch, the lights revealed a few paper-littered desks and a row of cells along the back wall. The Lieutenant shoved Sam into one of the iron-barred rooms, equipped with a lidless toilet and a brown-stained cot with no sheets.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

The Lieutenant closed the metal gate. His weird, red eyes… glowed. A cold shiver of fear ran through Sam.

Am I seeing things again?

The Lieutenant twisted the key in the lock and turned to the door.

“Hey!” Sam banged on the bars. “Let me out! I didn’t do anything! I swear, I didn’t hit him! Just let me out!”

After the soft clink of metal, Sam heard only silence.

CHAPTER 5

O
fficer Gaetani stared at the door.
What the heck’s going on with the

Lieutenant?
First, Lieutenant McNally had put his hands on a fellow officer—which truthfully wasn’t all that bad—but then he’d assaulted the kid without reason. No reading of rights, no nothing.

Totally out of line.

The Lieutenant had always gone by the book, never leaving so much as a scrap of paper out of an evidence file. Harassing Sam like that? Gaetani hated to report him to the chief, but—

A loud buzzing came from the front door. Late-night arrivals usually were drunken students looking for a place to crash instead of driving home—which in a small town like Stanton was perfectly acceptable, actually encouraged. He passed around the metal detectors and opened the door.

His eyes widened at the beautiful woman dressed in an elegant, tailored suit. Long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and her green eyes radiated intelligence. “What a fine station you have here. Very quaint.”

Officer Gaetani furrowed his brow. “Thanks, Miss…?”

“
Agent.
” Her smile broadened as she held up a badge—gold, with an eagle on top.
Federal Bureau of Investigation.
The black leather holder also included her picture on an official-looking ID card. Her other hand remained buried deep in her pocket. “Agent Greenford. And you are?”

It took him a moment to respond. “Officer Gaetani.”

“First FBI agent you’ve run into?”

He nodded and gulped. “This is a small town. We’ve never had any need for the FBI… at least not since I’ve been here.”

“Yeah, we get that a lot. You’d be surprised what goes on in some small towns.” She stood on her tiptoes and peeked over his shoulder. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” He gave a sheepish smile.

“Thank you.” Her heels clicked on the linoleum floor. “I understand that a young man named Samuel Lock is in your custody. Is that correct?”

“How did you know that? He just arrived.”

She turned and flashed him a coy smile, and his cheeks reddened for asking.

“I’m afraid he has to come with me now.”

“What? Why?”

Her playful look said, “Have you never heard of the FBI before?”

Gaetani almost smacked himself in the forehead. “Right.”

“Now, where is he?”

“I actually don’t know. Lieutenant McNally just took him somewhere. I’m actually glad you’re here. The Lieutenant is acting strange. Maybe seeing some brass will set him straight.”

She frowned. “Strange, how?”

“I don’t know. Angry? And not following procedure. And his eyes look really—”

“Red?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Take me to him.”

Now the FBI’s involved? How bad did Sam hurt that kid?

Lieutenant McNally’s eyes flashed up as Gaetani opened his office door. “We don’t have the faintest idea where he—I have to go.” He slammed the phone back on the desk. “Officer Gaetani, you know better than to come in without knocking!”

So much for Lieutenant McNally’s “open door” policy.

“And who is she?”

“Agent Shelly Greenford of the FBI.” Gaetani stressed the Bureau’s initials.

“What the hell does the FBI want?”

Agent Greenford gave the Lieutenant a long look. “Sam Lock has to come with me.”

“Sorry. That can’t happen.” Lieutenant McNally turned his attention to a pile of papers on his desk.

“I apologize, but this is not up for discussion. Sam will be coming with me tonight. I am sorry if this—”

“HE’S STAYING!” Spit flew out of the Lieutenant’s mouth with each syllable.

“Sir.” Gaetani tried to keep his voice calm, “This is the FBI we’re dealing with. Now where is Sam?”

“He will remain exactly where he is!” The Lieutenant jumped up and shoved the desk out toward them. In a swift motion, he pulled his gun out of the holster and raised it toward Agent Greenford. His hand shook, and fear filled his eyes.

Gaetani froze in disbelief—his boss had a gun directed at a federal agent—while the woman smiled at the Lieutenant as he stood there armed, red-faced, and quivering. Greenford’s hand twitched inside her jacket pocket and the gun dropped to the floor.

Her hand twitched again and the Lieutenant fell back into his seat, which gave a loud creak of protest. He struggled in place as if bound by invisible ropes.

“Lieutenant, if you could please tell me where the young man is located. I’m on a tight schedule.”

“You won’t find him in time. All I have to do is wait a few more minutes.”

“Less time than I thought,” she muttered to herself.

“A few more minutes?” Gaetani whipped his gaze from one to the other. “What are you two talking about?”

The Lieutenant gave a smug smile and his eyes glowed even redder.

Greenford took a deep breath and did something with her pocketed hand. The Lieutenant went rigid and his jaw muscles twitched.

“Now.” The woman’s voice filled with iron. “I’ll ask you once more. Where is Sam Lock?”

The Lieutenant gave a dry heave and moaned.

“A little louder, please.”

“C-Cellblock D.”

“Cellblock D?” Gaetani repeated. “That’s only for
real
criminals. We haven’t had to use that area in years.”

“Do you have the keys?”

“Um… yes, I think so.”

“Take me there.”

“Sure, but what about—”

“Now, please.” An urgent edge belied her calm words. The agent trailed him as he left the room. “I think running would be best.”

He wasn’t going to argue. “What happened back there?”

The agent kept up as he ran. “It’s a secret government weapon. Classified. Civilians don’t have access to knowledge about it yet.”

Fair enough
.

Gaetani pulled up in front of a door with no window.

“Keys.” She nodded towards the door, an eager look in her eyes.

“Right.” He brought out his key ring. It had been a long time since they’d used this particular cellblock; Stanton hadn’t had a truly dangerous criminal in a while.

Why stuff Sam in here? It makes no sense.

He tried the rusty silver key, but it didn’t quite fit. He studied the key ring and rifled through the assortment, trying to jog his memory.

Agent Greenford pushed the door open and shrugged. “Looks like he forgot to lock it.”

They found Sam in the back cell.

“Sam Lock?” Greenford placed a hand on one of the bars.

“Yeah.”

“Sam, you need to come with me.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere safe. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble, and there will be plenty of time for questions later. But if we don’t get you out of here now, there could be serious consequences. You just have to trust me.” She turned to Officer Gaetani. “Open the cell.”

Gaetani picked through the ring, but before he could make his decision, Agent Greenford had the cell door wide open.

What the—?

Sam bolted from the cell. “Thanks. I needed to get out of there. It’s been a tough night.”

Agent Greenford placed a gentle hand on Sam’s forearm. “You poor boy. I can only imagine. But soon you’ll be out of the dark. Just know that you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Relief washed across Sam’s face. “Good to know at least one person believes me.”

“Follow me.” She moved surprisingly fast for a woman in heels. Greenford stopped short as they reached the front door. She turned toward Gaetani and smiled.

“Officer Gaetani, the Bureau thanks you for your cooperation.”

“The Bureau? As in the FBI?” Sam asked.

“Later,” she said. “Now follow me.”

“It was nice to meet you, Shelly—I mean, Agent Greenford.”

“The pleasure was mine.” Then Agent Greenford snapped the fingers hidden in her pocket, and Officer Gaetani’s mind went blank.