“Get down on the ground!” The officer was shouting at me. “Put her down and get down on the ground!”
“What?” My head was still clearing from everything that happened. “I found her.” I laid her dripping wet body on the ground, backed a few steps away, and laid on the ground face down.
The officer called into his radio, and cuffed me. I sat in the back of the police cruiser while the New Gilead police rolled in, an ambulance and the medical examiner’s van, as the early dawn broke. You wouldn’t expect such a quick response, but the November Minet case was high profile. Her father was special assistant to the Prime Minister, and the Gendarme Federal had been involved for weeks. Now that they had the body, they could go to work.
A black SUV arrived, and a huge black man, dressed in a black suit and tie, emerged from the passenger side. Immediately, the local police stopped what they were doing and gathered around him. He started gesturing towards the cruiser that held me, and our eyes met. The officer who had cuffed me started jogging toward the car, and he got in and drove us out of the parking lot. I watched November’s covered body for the last time, and in the backseat of the car I leaned over and fell asleep.
I awoke to being dragged out of the car, and I sleepily was fingerprinted, my mugshot taken, and I was shoved into a cell, with a drunk sleeping in a top bunk. “Blessed are the sleepy, for they will soon drop off.” I took the bunk underneath him, and went back to sleep myself.
The guard was banging on the bars, mispronouncing my name. “Bon-ventura Sheeeva, get up!” I got to my feet; I was still shirtless from tossing my pledge shirt at my brother’s feet, and my pants and shoes were wet and stinking from the quarry water. “You’re wanted in the interview room,” the guard said, and I shuffled out behind him, collapsing into the chair once the door opened. The guard closed and locked the door.
From the edge of the room, next to the mirror of the viewing window, another door opened. The tall black man in the black suit entered, carrying a folded sweatshirt and sweatpants. “These are for you,” his deep voice reverberated throughout the room. I grabbed the sweatshirt and pulled it over my head.
“Thanks,” I said, “I didn’t kill that girl.”
“I know you didn’t. Our examiner tells us Ms. Minet’s been dead for three weeks, and you posted that video to NoStick last night.”
“You saw that?”
“Everyone has. Your university president has issued a statement about mental health among the students, and Sigma Xi is on probation.”
“I didn’t think I’d be alive right now.”
“And we’re fairly interested in that, as well. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
“Who are you? You don’t look like a policeman.” I leaned back in my chair.
“I’m not, really. Kind of a holy warrior. Officially I’m a special agent of the Gendarme Federal, here in my capacity assisting local law enforcement with a high profile missing persons case, which is now a homicide inquiry. My name’s Robin Bearshak.” He leaned back in his chair. “If you’re who I think you are, we’ve been looking for you for a long time.”
He reached into his pocket and removed a small case about the size of a deck of playing cards you then fished out latex gloves from his pocket and put them on
He picked up a briefcase from under the table, opened it, and took a pair of latex gloves from within. “What are you doing?” I leaned closer.
“Manuscripts like this, if you don’t treat them well, you’ll lose them.”
Open the clasp on the side of the box and box opened stop from its bottom he said the top to one side and then grasp the top and the bottom of the bottom half stretch them until it was the size of half of the table and then you stretch the other side a pinch the center and pulled up a large plastic these stood up and put his hands down into the box seem to be reaching below the level of the table
How are you doing that?
We keep pocket Dimensions handy for storage especially of rare artifacts things we never want anyone else to get their hands on one thing you got to remember is that when they talk about higher dimensions they’re not necessarily ones that correspond to be exact width and depth and breadth of your perceived Dimensions you can take a dimension roll it up and put it in your pocket and that’s still an entirely valid dimension part of that whole brain Theory you’ll pick it up in time
He pulled out a large book wrapped in cloth
Are you a magician I asked
Oh definitely he said I can pull things out of this hat you wouldn’t believe broad smile sharp white teeth I felt comforted I like a wolf guarding your door