Silencing Sam Read Online Free PDF

the king himself, was visiting the Mayo Clinic for medical checkups and spending money around Rochester like it was oil. Giant tips at restaurants. Women in veils buying out boutiques. A caravan of Lincolns with dark windows.
    I surprised Noreen by volunteering to cover the city’s economic boon. My phone message light was flashing with voice mails from even more news organizations wanting to interview me about my day in court. I was anxious for an excuse to leave town, even temporarily.
    On my way out the door, I stopped in the green room. Clay was staring at the mirror like he owned it. More than a decade in this business had taught me to be wary of men prettier than me. Too many could look smart on air for the necessary minute and a half, but after that, there wasn’t much there.
    The green room closet contained clothing stashed away for emergencies and props. Spill coffee on your jacket just before the newscast starts? Run to the green room for a replacement. Way in the back I found a black burka another reporter had bought last year for a story on discrimination against Islamic women.
    I held the head-to-toe covering in front of me, wonderingwhether it might come in handy tracking the Saudi royal family or if it would be seen as an enormous international insult.
    â€œLittle early for Halloween, isn’t it?” Clay asked.
    â€œI’m considering an undercover look.” I explained the significance of hijab—dressing modestly—in Muslim culture. But I put the burka back on the hanger, deciding I couldn’t risk more trouble.
    Malik and I drove south and an hour or so later, when we reached Rochester, the Mayo Clinic wouldn’t confirm or deny the royal visit because of medical privacy rules. City officials were also mum for security reasons. But keeping the visit hush-hush was impossible because a 747 with the Saudi crest dwarfed all other aircraft at the city’s small airport.
    Malik shot some video through the fence. With only six gates, Rochester just might be the smallest international airport in the country. It speaks to the clout of Mayo that the airport has a runway long enough to land a 747, as well as its own customs office.
    We staked out Chester’s, where we heard some of the royal party were dining in a private room. I hoped to get an interview, or even ten seconds of video, with anybody in a turban or flowing robe.
    Malik waited in the van across the street, his camera by his side. I sat inside the restaurant, eating lunch very slowly, so I could call him with a heads-up when it was time to start rolling.
    But one phone call changed that plan.
    I almost didn’t answer because my parents’ number came up on the screen, and I figured they wanted to talk about my court hearing. Then I decided it was better to get it over with now rather than later with Malik listening.
    â€œThere’s been another bombing on the wind farm,” my dad said. “A big team of investigators just got here.”
    I called the station with the news and was told to forget chasing royals and head south to the blast.
    Down at Wide Open Spaces, the scene was much the sameas before. A toppled giant lay across a field of straw. But nobody was blaming a big bad wolf for huffing and puffing.
    In the distance, a K-9 unit seemed to be inspecting turbines. A chocolate Labrador and his human partner worked the fields, but I couldn’t tell if they’d found anything newsworthy.
    I tried to call the station and report the latest in the mysterious crime, but neither my cell phone nor Malik’s worked. That seemed odd because a cell tower was just up the road, and ten yards away, a sheriff’s deputy had his phone to his ear.
    â€œYou getting cell service?” I called over to the deputy, waving my phone after he’d hung up his.
    â€œYeah, but you won’t.” I couldn’t tell if he was laughing at my question or his answer.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” I