The Eyes of Hoover

The Eyes of Hover were upon us.

... Before night fell, or during a break in the afternoon, I hung out at the Dome. The distant sound of a vehicle coming up towards us on the gravel road could be heard ten or fifteen minutes in advance. On one such afternoon the graveling of tires alerted the four of us and we stood by the road to see who it might be. An ex-speed-freak called Shep came running up to us from where he’d been watching at the point of the mesa facing the valley.
“Hey, it’s the feds!” Shep was flinging his arms in paranoid gestures. “They’re in a late model Ford sedan! It’s the feds I tell ya!”
I wasn’t sure what we were supposed to do about it if it were the feds. Shep dashed up the hill towards the mesa and left us wondering. Stan and the girls went inside the Dome but I stayed out front just to see. The sedan pulled off the road in front of the Dome. Two, crew-cut six-foot-plus, men in their thirties wearing suites got out of the sedan. I couldn’t help but notice the spit-shine on their shoes getting dusty. One of them held a binder and approached while the other flashed a badge.
“FBI, Do you live here?” The man with the badge asked the obvious. I wanted to say no but thought better of it.
“Well, up the hill… but not here.”
Stan opened the door enough to see what was going on but was not going to let them in the Dome.
“I live here… what do you want?”
“We just need you to check out some pictures and tell us whether you’ve seen any of these people here.” The agent with the binder said in such a way that I could see he wasn’t asking for cooperation, he was ordering it.
Stan was going to close the door right then and there but I answered first, “Sure, won’t hurt anything.” I had caught a glimpse of some of the pictures and those pictures were not unlike high school year-book pictures. I knew I could honestly say I hadn’t seen any of these folks because this was a collection of clean cut suburban white boys and girls in letter jackets and glee club sweaters: a world apart from anyone on the mesa.
The agent paused on each page as I looked at the pictures, hoping not to recognize anyone on one hand, but thinking of how I could warn whoever it was if I did spot a fugitive from justice, on the other. As the pages were flipped I did recognize one girl, Candy, who had arrived only a few days before. Under her photo was her birthday; May something, 1957. She had paired up with Shep, coincidently, and I knew she was very young. This birthday put her at around thirteen. Shep was only about fifteen or sixteen himself but the girl was… well, nowhere near ripe. I had mixed feelings about it. So many run-away kids were on the streets in those days that a thirteen year old girl with a sixteen year old guy hardly turned a head.
The agent caught me hesitating at her picture and I knew it. I would have to bluff my way out of it if I was going to trip-up this guy. I wished I could get to Shep to warn him but decided to simply shrug my shoulders, “Naw, nothing here… haven’t seen any of ‘em.”
“Are you sure, now?” The agent wasn’t buying it. “You know it is a federal crime to obstruct a federal investigation?”
That did it, “You know, none of these kids look anything like these picture now. If I were looking straight at someone I grew up with I couldn’t recognize them.” I took a deep breath and made like I knew what I was talking about; “Now, this is private property and you are wearing out your welcome… good-bye, sir.”
    I was a little surprised when the feds turned their sedan around and went the other way. I was expecting them to plow further onto the property. I took the same shortcut to the top of the mesa that Shep had taken before the Feds arrived. When I got to the Pueblo everyone was already gathered together listening to Shep.
    “What did they want?” Brian asked.
    “Just showed me some pictures. I didn’t recognize anyone…” I added, “You know, high school yearbook pictures.”
    “Well, anytime some radical bombs a bank in Ann Arbor they send up some agents the next day to see if we have any mad bombers in hiding.” Brian looked at Shep and Candy… “If anyone has any warrants or is on the lam, it might be a good idea to stay out of sight a few weeks.”
    Shep came to me with Candy in tow afterwards. “What should we do? They are here looking for Candy.”
    “What makes you say so?” I could understand the paranoia but the urgency with which Shep asked was not easily dismissed.
    “Her dad is the chief of police in her home town.” Shep eyes were darting back and forth and he was looking over his shoulder as though the government sedan might be pulling up at any time.
    “Whew!” I didn’t want to seem overly alarmed but Candy’s picture was in the binder and I had a strong feeling Shep’s paranoia was well founded in this case. “How old are you, Candy?”
    Candy hesitated but let out the usual lie… “I’m eighteen.”
    “You know that Shep can be in deep shit if you are not telling the truth?” I felt uncomfortable thinking about her age and rechecked the math in my mind. She could have passed for a very young looking sixteen but eighteen was stretching it more than a bit.
    “Maybe we’ll just hike up to the creek and camp out a few days until this blows over.” Shep offered.