Free Gooseberry Bluff Community College of Magic: The Thirteenth Rib (Kindle Serial) by David J. Schwartz Page B

did?”
    “You didn’t notice? Good — that means they’re doing their job.” He handed her a file and tilted his head toward the door. “They’ll be in Room Twelve. You’d better get in there for the debrief.”
    Flood’s aura said that he resented her even more now that she had demonstrated some value. Joy left his office without another word.
    Room Twelve was at the other end of the hall. She knocked, and Agent Gray opened the door for her. Hector sat at a small gray table inside the small gray room. He looked stunned. Joy tried to ask Gray a question with a glance, but he just shook his head. Despite his name, Gray bore no resemblance to the room or the table. He was blond, he wore a blue-and-gold tracksuit, and his aura was dominated by indigo. He nodded at Joy and stifled a yawn.
    “They pull you out of bed for this?” Joy asked.
    “My night to be on call,” he said in a what-can-you-do tone.
    Joy pulled a chair out and sat down adjacent to Hector. “How are you, Hector? I’m sorry this is moving fast, but we need to be sure of you right away. You understand? This is an important investigation.”
    Hector nodded. “I understand. I…just…” He sighed. “I’m going to lose my job,” he said in a whisper.
    “I don’t think that necessarily follows.” She patted him on the shoulder, aware that it was a completely false show of sincerity and solidarity but hoping he wouldn’t read it that way. “Agent Gray here is a truth-teller, OK? So just be honest, and everything should be fine. You’re not into anything you shouldn’t be, are you?”
    “No. No, nothing. I swear.”
    “OK. I mean, it’s not that simple; we’re going to be here awhile. But I don’t have any reason to suspect you, so we should be fine.” She set the file on the table and flipped it open. “Ready? Your name is Hector Árbenz Ay, and you were born in Escuintla, Guatemala, in 1975, is that correct?”
    Hector put up his hands. “What, are we going to go through my entire biography?”
    “Pretty much. And the sooner we get started, the sooner we can both go home and get a good night’s sleep. All right?”
    He closed his eyes. “All right.”
***
    Hector answered questions for an hour, until his throat went dry from talking and he had to ask for a glass of water. He had hoped that Joy would let up on him after that, but she didn’t. Hector answered question after question about his family, his education, his childhood, his medical history, and his reading habits. Joy Wilkins — if that was her real name — stared at him intently the entire time, as if she were not just studying his face but tracing his outline mentally. She was, Hector thought, very odd.
    Agent Gray leaned against the wall through all of this, sometimes glancing in Hector’s direction but mainly studying his nails. Hector knew most truth-tellers heard lies rather than saw them, but a little bit of eye contact would have been polite.
    “Gray, you satisfied so far?” Joy asked after an hour had passed.
    “Yes.” Gray sounded bored. Hector gave him the finger under the table.
    “Let’s talk about the security at the college,” said Joy.
    “Do you mind if I stand up and move around a little bit?” Hector asked.
    “Go ahead,” said Joy. “Who maintains the wards?”
    Hector got out of the chair and stretched. The vertebrae in his back snapped into position. “I do,” he said, “according to President Fitzgerald's specifications.”
    “And what is the nature of those wards?”
    “They’re only active while the school is locked. The outer one is a simple sleep ward. Walk through it without a password and you’ll start looking for a soft spot to lie down. Occasionally a drunk or a teenager wanders onto the grounds; we just roust them in the morning.”
    “What about in the winter?”
    “Well, it doesn’t happen as often then, for obvious reasons. If it does, we have extra detection set up, and we can call up the sheriff to help collect