"What about..."
"Any further questions you have will be answered in the future," he stated.
As soon as he finished speaking, he and the other two men got up from their seats and began walking to the door. Again, the man who had brought me here ushered me out the door, leading me to my room.
For ten years I have been working in secret for the government. And for the past ten years I read the thoughts of attempted suicide bombers, kidnappers, and robbers. Yet the most frightened I have felt in these ten years of reading minds, was today when I was informed I would be interrogating my best friend.
After entering the room where Olly sat, I opened the case file that was laid in on the table. I closed my eyes and prayed before I opened the file in hope that somehow the information would magically change or that maybe I just thought this was my friend but in fact was some creepy look-alike. But when I opened the file, I found my prayers unanswered.
Inside the folder it read, "Oliver Field: Suspect of the robbery of several paintings from the Eli Broad collection and the death of an officer. Height and bodily appearance identified by several people, still processing security footage and fingerprints."
"Oh my god" I whispered under my breath.
Olly was sitting behind the table. He was extremely pale, sweating like crazy, and shaking like a dead leaf hanging onto a tree at the end of fall. His hair was disheveled and he was wearing a grey jumpsuit. He was also the only person not in my family or a part of my work who knew about my gift. As he sat there, biting his nails, I began looking through his thoughts.
"Jake, please don't do this," he stuttered.
I ignored him, knowing that if I listened, it would cloud my visions as I searched his brain. I passed visions of him being lifted on the shoulders of his teammates after winning a championship game, falling in a puddle on the way to school and becoming embarrassed by his soaking pants, and finally, in between his mom burning the crescent rolls on Thanksgiving and lying in bed with the chicken pox, I spotted something suspicious. He was looking around a dark room, lit only by the flashing red light of a security camera. I felt a mask pulled over his head, probably to obscure his identity. He frantically ran around the room not knowing where to go and finally, he reached up and