"Don't worry about Lee, though. I've only known him to see things when he's sketching."

"But you just said he's sketching right now!"

"Oh, yeah. . ." she murmurs. She's silent for a few seconds, then, "Just keep him away from palm trees and he'll be all right."

Startling news. Alarmed, I flash my eyes back to Lee. He's still backing away from the palm trees, though now much slower.

"What about palm trees?" I stammer. And then Lee gasps aloud, the half-eaten Butterfingers in each hand drop to the sidewalk.

"Sometimes he sees tree cops," Stephanie says. "And sometimes he sees—"

"SHADOW PEOPLE!" Lee screams suddenly.

Oh shit! I drop the phone. Lee's eyes are bulging and his arms and legs are doing the now familiar twitching and jerking motions. He's a movie robot who's electrical circuits have been suddenly fried. His gears are completely out of whack. And now he's doing something I haven't yet seen—his jaws have clamped together and are moving from side to side. He's grinding his teeth. He's growling. Or at least he sounds like he is.

Joel and I approach cautiously from each side.

Lee's screams of fear escalate and he's doing the same panicked step-in-one-direction-and-then-the-opposite shuffle as had happened at his house. Like a terrified animal backed into a corner, he can't decide which way to escape.

"Just calm down," I say. Joel says the same. "It's all right. . .Everything's okay."

"NO!" Lee gasps. "SHADOW PEOPLE!"

"There aren't any Shadow People," I say calmly, reassuringly. A small crowd from the nightclub is quickly gathering. I hear a female voice from close by say, "This guy's tweaking hard!" It can only be in reference to Lee.

"CAN'T YOU SEE 'EM?" Lee's shrieking, swinging his twitching arms in a wide circle. "THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!"

"Grab him!" I yell as I suddenly lunge. Jolted, Lee staggers back and I'm able to get a firm hold on his legs. Joel's right there, too, and manages to grasp one of Lee's wildly flailing arms. The crowd of onlookers has grown even more.

As Lee's screaming and struggling he's exhibiting a strength that seems incredible for one his slim size. In my years at the Academy I played rugby and am capable of bringing down a fair size opponent. Lee should be a piece of cake. Not so, however. Once—twice—three times he tosses me and stumbles to his feet, only to be tackled again.

"Lee! Lee! It's all right!" I grunt as I attempt to twist one of his arms behind his back. He breaks free and I fight for another hold.

"NO! NO!" he's hissing between breaths. "You guys are Feds! . . .I should have known. . .you guys. . .you guys were undercover!"

"Lee—I'm your cousin!" Joel shouts angrily. "We're not cops! The real one's are on their way, however, so you better let us take you home."

These words have a slight affect on Lee's tweaked mind. He weakens his struggle. I take the moment to twist his arm behind his back and haul him to his feet. The three of us are slumped over, breathless and panting for air.