Page 18 of Barron

She gasped and rubbed her temple. “Sorry. Yes, I’m fine. I was thinking if I knew anyone who’d fit that description.” She shook her head. “But I came up empty.”

Congratulations. You lie like a pro.

“Yoanni, you are going to tell Captain Weaver, right? He could assign an officer to watch your place.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. It was only one time. For all we know, this guy had the wrong house. I don’t want to bother the captain with something unimportant.”

“Unimportant? Don’t take this lightly. It could happen again.”

She knew better. If the man Mr. Miller had seen last night was Barron, that was a one-time moment of weakness. He’d never come back.

What if it’s not him?

“Agreed. You have a point,” Yoanni said. “I’ll mention the biker to Captain Weaver at the first opening I get.” Which meant that would never happen. Captain Weaver’s schedule rarely lightened.

“Promise?” Andrea’s soft eyes searched her face.

Yoanni gave Andrea her most open smile. The kind she reserved for her worried Mami or when the captain was overwhelmed with reports and needed the support of his trustworthy assistant.

“I promise.”

“Good. I’m glad you’re warning the captain.” Andrea started walking to the door. “Safety is everything. Don’t take anything for granted.”

“I won’t.” Yoanni walked with her the short distance to the doorway and opened the door for her.

Andrea stepped out, then jerked to a stop. “My goodness. I’mgetting old and forgetting things.” She pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket. “I found this when I knocked. It was inserted into your door.”

Frowning, Yoanni shook her head as she unfolded the sheet of paper. Several circular shapes had been drawn in ink on the paper. At first glance, the figures were similar to astrology charts and symbols. Then she was reminded of sigils or heraldry forms used in the historical fantasy and adventure books she loved to read. Two were perfect circles with an oddly shaped script, similar to a written language inside. The other figure was made of two straight lines crossing and a circle underneath the intersecting point. This bottom circle was also filled with odd forms and designs. Actually, several shapes spiking out of the crossed lines reminded her of feathers.

Despite the alienness and oddity of the figures, a peculiar sense of familiarity filled her mind. Had she seen similar drawings somewhere else…?

“Okay.” She shrugged. “Maybe someone had the wrong house.”

“It’s possible,” Andrea said. “Do you think the bike man and these images are somehow connected?”

“For the life of me, I have no clue. I’m at a complete loss here.”

“Interesting… All righty, I told you about last night, and now I’m going home. Don’t forget to tell Captain Weaver. I’ll see you later or tonight.”

She smiled. “Sounds good, Andrea. See you soon.”

Yoanni locked her front door. She picked up her bag as she walked out of the laundry room to her garage. After turning on the ignition, she opened the door with her remote and drove out. Moments later, as she merged with the Garden City morning traffic, the drawings and the biker fell out of herthoughts.

Friday turned out to be the busiest day at the station in memory. Yoanni made it to seven p.m., physically exhausted and mentally burned out. Sleepy little Garden City was no more. Crime had spread its deadly tentacles toward the city and showed no signs of retreating.

An armed robber hit a family-owned jewelry store on Main with grave consequences. One store attendant had died during the robbery when he attempted to fight the gunman. The second clerk hid in the storage room and escaped injury. The owner had been rushed to the hospital with several gunshot wounds. The poor man hung on to life by a thread.

The station had been a humming beehive. Phones rang off the hook. While Yoanni and Betty fielded nonstop calls, officers and detectives rushed in and out, asking for files and documents. The media sent reporters to the station, forcing the sergeant in charge to abandon his duties to pacify their requests with limited information.

Captain Weaver had sped to the scene. Once he supervised the ongoing investigation and the remains were released to the morgue, he rushed to the hospital, where he tried to comfort the jeweler’s distraught family. He returned barking orders left and right, asking for scene reports and witnesses’ accounts if any were available. Yoanni and Betty could barely keep up with the endless demand. The only highlight of the day had been a surprise from Margie from the diner. She heard about the robbery and immediately sent complimentary lunches to the station.

By six thirty, the bedlam started to wind down. “Go home, Betty,” Yoanni said. “Enough for one day.”

“Are you sure?” Betty lifted her pad. “I haven’t finished this one.”

“Where is it going?”

Betty squinted, reading her own symbols. “This one’s addressed to the mayor of Savannah.”

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