Ghost Time (6 page)

The school office is at the end of the main hall, in clear view of the front entrance, and the sun was shining like a spotlight through those thick double doors. I felt this sense of dread, despite the light, and no one had to say it: I knew there was someone to see me. Even stranger, I knew it wasn’t Detective Knox. I don’t know how; I could just tell it wasn’t him, so I took my time. There was no one else in the hall, and I don’t know how to explain it, but the building felt scared. I swear, even the electric current quit humming—you know that awful buzzing of fluorescent lights overhead, extending in every direction? Well, for once it was quiet.

When I walked in, the secretaries didn’t say anything, not a word. They both just looked at me, and then they quickly looked away, like they knew something and didn’t want me to see it in their eyes. Thea, Principal Cheswick said, stepping out of his office, hearing the front door open. So weird: he never stepped out; he never waited; one of the secretaries always buzzed him first, and you were told to take a seat. So something was definitely wrong, and then he said, Come in, opening his office door for me.

Cheswick didn’t close the door, but he lowered his voice, telling me there was an agent there who needed to talk to me about Cam. Then, in this voice, like he was trying to stay calm, he goes, FBI, and I looked him in the eye. He has a few questions
for you, Thea. You can have a lawyer present or I can go in there with you, whichever you prefer, he said. And if I didn’t know any better, deep down, I knew Cheesy was scared. I recommend an attorney, but that will be a few hours, and you’ll have to wait here, in the office, he said. And I shook my head no. I said, If you can come in with me, that’s fine, and he nodded gravely. So we walked down the hall, and when he opened the conference room door for me, there was a man, standing at the end of the room, in front of the blackboard, with his hands clasped.

And the way he looked at me, it’s like he knew me or he’d seen me before, but I didn’t know him. And I felt like I should remember him, but I didn’t—I’d never seen this guy in my life—really strange. So we walked in, and Cheesy goes, Thea, this is Special Agent Foley, and the man looked at me and said the same thing: Hello, Theadora, I’m Special Agent Foley, FBI. He took out his badge, showed it to me, and then he said, I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right? Where’s Detective Knox? I said, looking around, and he goes, Detective Knox, yes, I’m told you spoke. But the FBI will be taking over the case from here, he said, and I swear his voice, it—it
slithered
. The guy had this snake voice, I’m not kidding.

Not only that, he did this thing, it was like—
ugh
… he claps his hands, then he presses his thumbs together, and then he slowly gyrates thumb against thumb, ’round and ’round—so disgusting! Like he’s jerking his thumbs off—I’m sorry, but it’s true. Seriously, I don’t know if he’s into little boys or girls or animals or what, but there was something so wrong about this guy. Twisted. And he looked at me like he could read my mind or something,
so I couldn’t even look at him. Then he goes, Please, pointing one hand at the chair. Sit, Theadora.

Just as we stepped into the conference room and sat down, one of the secretaries knocked on the door, and Cheesy got up to answer. He leaned out, and said, Would you two excuse me for a few minutes? Behind me, I could hear a woman’s voice whisper. Then Cheesy said, It’s Superintendent Phelps. I need to take this call, and then I’ll be right back. The FBI guy smiled, folding his hands, and said, Of course. Take your time, principal, and the door closed. And then the guy just stared at me, smiling. Twenty seconds of that was about all I could take, because there was something really creepy about him, before I said, Go ahead and ask me whatever you want. He said, Wouldn’t you like a lawyer or some advocate present? No, I said, no lawyers, and he smiled like he understood what I was saying. Well, the problem is—one of many problems is, I should say, that you’re a minor, Theadora. I said, You bring in a lawyer, and I will never ever talk to you. The guy looked at me for a moment, didn’t blink, and then, suddenly, he relaxed and said, Of course.

All right, Theadora, he said, and he removed a computer and pointed the camera toward me while he pressed an audio program, recording our conversation while the video’s lens stayed focused on me. Again, he moved so quickly, it almost felt like he knew everything I was going to say, before I said a word. This is Special Agent Foley; it’s 8:37 a.m. on Thursday, April 7, 2011, and I am interviewing Theadora Denny, who has stated in no uncertain terms that she will not speak on record if a lawyer is present. Is that correct, Theadora? he asked, and it’s so weird,
feeling yourself being recorded that way, knowing other people are going to watch this tape, hold you to it. Yes, I said, that’s correct. If you a bring a lawyer in here, I won’t say one word. Good, Foley said, and please, sit down, Theadora. And I didn’t look at him, but I could feel his eyes, watching me pull out a chair and take a seat. In that case, I will record our conversation for the purposes of our investigation, as it will not be admissible in any court of law, and I said, Fine. So, he said, given the circumstances, we will proceed with the interview and expect Principal Cheswick to return to the room at any time. The way he looked at me, though, I’m telling you, there was something not right about this guy, and not just his hands. His suit, too.

It was hard to look at him, but physically, he’s got a little nose, and thin lips, tidy, short hair, parted on the side, and beady eyes—kind of reminds me of a weasel. Actually, that’s exactly what he looks like, a weasel man in a fancy suit. Seriously, I took one look, and I was just like,
Who knew the bogeyman wore bespoke?
Besides, like, how could he be FBI and afford a suit like that? Then he smiled, like he knew what I was thinking, but I just looked at him. I go, So you’re here because you think Cam’s been kidnapped? Not exactly, he said. No, I’m here because we believe Cam’s been kidnapped because he was breaking into top-security government sites, and then he disappeared the very day that the NSA was about to arrest him. I go, NSA? And he goes, National Security Agency, and I didn’t mean to, but when he said that, I go, Oh,
bullshit
, and I started laughing, but he just stared at me until I stopped.

Honestly, I was speechless. Because it was so totally and completely outrageous, but Foley just stared, and then my heart stopped. It stopped for, for I don’t know how long. Then it started up again. Beat. Beat, beat. Beat, beat, beat, thump, thump, thump, like my heart was going to pound right out of my chest. Then my stomach made a fist so tight, I couldn’t swallow, I couldn’t even move. Theadora, did John ever mention any work he was doing, anything special he was working on? Yes, I said, looking up, not knowing why he called him John. All the time, I said. Oh? he said, raising his brow, tilting his head to the side. Can you tell me about that work? he asked, smiling at me like we had all the time in the world. Yes, I said, smiling back and then leaning forward: his car. He likes to work on his car. Cam stays up all night working on his car sometimes, I said.
Yes
, Foley said, almost drawling the word. I see, he said, winking like we had some inside joke. Interestingly enough, he said, We’re looking through his car now, and I almost shivered at the idea of that guy touching Cam’s car. Speaking of his car, it seems his mother found it at your house, is that right? Yes, I said. But you didn’t see him after he left your house Monday afternoon, is that also right, Theadora? Yes, I said. Strange, don’t you think? he said, and I just bit the inside of my lip. I wonder if maybe he returned to see you again or he had something to tell you… ? I don’t know, because I didn’t see him again, I said, locking my jaw and looking away.

He goes, Tell me, did John ever talk to you about hacking? I looked up at him, shocked to hear him say the word, but then I
covered, and I go, No. And he goes—he raised his brow, because I think he knew I was lying, he goes, Never? And I go, No.
Never
. And Foley goes, How odd, considering you two seemed so close, and I said, How would you know? Foley cocked his head and he goes, Yes, you have a point, Theadora. How would I know that?

Foley sat there, staring at me, until I looked up at him like,
What? Say it, if you have something to say
, and he said, What I do know is John’s computer is also missing. Do you know where it might be, Theadora? I said, It’s probably with Cam, and then he smiled that twisted smile of his, and Foley goes, Indeed, his voice sidewinding across the table, totally creepy. In any case, Theadora, I need to ask you a few more questions about John—. Cam, I said, correcting him, and Foley smiled. Ah, you call him Cam. Yes, he said. Well. Trust me, Theadora, I want to find John just as badly as you do. And I will find him, he said, swirling a black leather portfolio with his index finger before opening it, fanning it out with both hands. And then, like he’d been practicing this move his entire life, he pulled a silver pen from his inside pocket and removed its cap with an expensive popping sound. Then questions, the same questions over and over again: How long have you two known each other? How did you meet? Over and over…

When I got outside, right before second bell, the whole school was buzzing, and when I walked past the library, heading to my locker, I saw there was a crowd gathered. I could tell something
big
was going down, and honestly, my first thought was a terrorist attack or something, but when I finally got a peek and saw the television on the movable AV stand, it was a broadcast of
the Albany news. They sent a crew to report on the hole in the dividing wall on the highway, and if that isn’t enough, they even sent in a helicopter to show an aerial view of the tire tracks. And the really bizarre thing is that from the air, you can see these big, thick black tire tracks, all the way from the highway, into an empty field that looks like it goes on forever. Then, about a half mile from the highway, the tracks end. They just end, like the car disappeared through a black hole or something.

The reporter, this woman, was broadcasting live, from the highway, and she was laughing at something the guy reporter, back in the studio, was saying about it being as big as a baseball field and how it was one of those mysteries like those crop circles. All of a sudden, I got the chills and started shivering, like so frickin’ weird. And then Hicky, Tyler Hendricks, goes, Holy shit! They flew in a
helicopter
? Then Toby Brock turns to him and he goes,
Dude
, we’re famous, and I don’t know why, but all the hair on my arms stood up, and I got the chills.

(EIGHT DAYS EARLIER)

2:37 PM

It’s pretty weird that me and my mom both have boyfriends now. I mean, I don’t know that Raymond’s really her boyfriend, they’re so on-again, off-again. I keep hoping she’ll end it, but she doesn’t, and I just don’t get it. They’re nothing alike, and they don’t have anything in common, really, and Raymond—ugh, has
the worst
taste, okay? Just the shittiest eighties music you’ve ever heard. Like, sometimes I’ll be sitting in my room, drawing, and I’ll hear this awful guitar riff, like a song that’s so bad, I have to cover my nose like,
What is that smell?
And then, sure enough, I hear Rain Man pull into the parking lot, blasting Bad Company or whatever with his windows down, and I cover my face, like,
Ohmygod, that’s who my mom’s going out with?

Then there are times when it works in my favor. Like Sunday, when they went to see one of Rain Man’s friends in Albany. Mom said they wouldn’t be home until seven or eight, at the earliest,
and I should make myself a sandwich for dinner. So I about pissed my pants when I heard “The Boys Are Back in Town” blaring out front—you know that song from
Toy Story
? “The boys are back in town, the boys are back in town,” ugh—I love
Toy Story
, but I hate that song; I hate it. Anyhow.

It was about two-thirty, and we were in my bed. I mean, we’re totally naked, but I was under the sheet, lying on my stomach, with my head at the foot of the bed and my feet in Cam’s lap. He was drawing high-tops on each foot, using one of my silver metallic pens to draw rivets, and I don’t know what made me think of it, but I go, Cam, can I ask you something? I got up on my elbows and I turned to look up at him, and he just smiled at my feet, inspecting his work. Hold still, he said.

So I waited, watching him, until he put the pen down, and then leaned over, blowing on my ankle to make the ink dry, and then he looked at me, waiting to hear what I had to say. I wasn’t sure I should ask, but then I did. I said, How did your dad die? You’ve never told me, I said, sitting up, on my elbows. In almost six months, all he’d ever told me was his dad died when he was a little boy, and in all that time, I never asked. Finally, lying beside him, naked, I just felt like we’d reached the point I should know, you know? Cam didn’t say anything at first, he just looked at me, and then he started twisting my ankle to get me to turn on my stomach, so he could draw the back side of my high-tops.

When he first started drawing shoes on my feet, when we first started going out, I used to be
so
self-conscious. Like whenever Cam’d twisted my ankle, trying to turn me over, so he could draw the back, I wouldn’t turn over, because I didn’t want him
to see my butt all…
butt
. I’ll never forget the first time he tried to get me to turn on my stomach, and I wouldn’t do it, and he goes, Turn over, and I go, Why? He goes, Because I want to look at you, and that was it. I didn’t want to, but he asked, so I did.

I turned over, on my stomach, and then I spread my legs. I felt so, so—scared, you know? So I turned around, looking at him, and he was staring. Just kneeling on my bed, staring at me, like that, and then, seeing the look on my face, he smiled and spanked my butt, then he fell on top of the bed, beside me, putting his face right up next to mine. He leaned forward, and I closed my eyes, because I thought he was going to kiss me, but then he took my nose in his mouth, sucking my nose, and I screeched. Stop it! Stop, you dirty nose-sucker! Gross!