Back at the diner, Richard settled into his favorite booth. A few scraps of his meal remained—a half-eaten blueberry pie resting on a small plate off to the side, and at his feet, Joy lay curled contentedly. The pup’s little bowl, once filled with meat scraps Sally had kindly gathered, was now polished clean. Another shallow dish of water remained half-full. Richard, re-energized by the meal, now pored over his notebook. He turned pages back and forth, examining the strange symbols and the seashell-like indentation he’d copied down. Several notes had been scratched out; others circled undoubtedly as if he was trying to decode a secret message.

  He barely noticed Sally’s approach until she leaned over, holding a hot tea pot. She glanced curiously at his notebook as she began refilling his cup. Seeing the odd collection of geometric shapes and the spiral “seashell” marking, she let out a quiet “Huh.”

  Startled, Richard looked up, breaking from his reverie. He offered a faint smile. “Hey, Sally. Sorry, was I ignoring the world again?”

  Sally gave him a warm grin and shook her head. “You know me, I’m just a snoop. I couldn’t help but notice what you were working on. Those drawings… they look kind of familiar. Not sure why.”

  Richard straightened, a surge of hope stirring inside him. He’d been stuck for hours, mulling over the cryptic symbols without a clue. “Really? Do you recognize these markings?”

  Sally seemed uncertain, looking away as if searching her memory. “I’m not sure, Rich. I’ve seen something like them before but can’t recall where. They just strike a chord, you know? Sorry, I can’t be more help.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Richard said, sounding casual. “Any lead is better than nothing. I’ve been hitting a wall.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “Where did you come across them?”

  Richard hesitated. He wasn’t going to lie to Sally—there was no reason to—but he also didn’t want to come across as completely unhinged. He decided to leave out the stranger parts of his story. “Found them carved into something at the Thompson barn. There is a hatch on the floor. Just curious about their origin.”

  Sally’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t question him further on the odd location. “The Thompson place, huh? Well, that’s a story in itself.” She tapped a finger against her lip, thinking. “You know, Stefan and Hank were in here the other morning—remember them? Stefan’s a contractor who does odd jobs around town, and Hank’s his helper. They were talking about the Thompson farm. Hank had a small leather-bound book with him that morning. I remember it because it stood out—old-looking, worn. On the cover, there was a symbol kind of like that one.” She pointed to one of Richard's figures: two overlapping triangles surrounded by four evenly spaced dots.

  Richard leaned forward, his pulse quickening. “Are you sure?”

  Sally nodded slowly. “I think so. I can’t say what it means, but that image resembles what I saw in Hank’s book.”

  He followed her finger to the symbol, letting the shape burn into his mind. After a moment, Sally patted his shoulder and moved off toward the kitchen, likely to see to another customer or refresh someone else’s coffee. Richard looked at the time on his phone—already late. The faint chatter of a few lingering customers, the distant clink of silverware, and the hum of the coffee maker all reminded him how tired he was. Joy, still resting by his feet, gave a quiet sigh.

  Folding up his notebook, Richard decided it was time to call it a night. He would track down Stefan and Hank in the morning. That old leather-bound book might offer insight into these symbols and the mysterious hatch beneath the barn. He’d let his mind rest, content with this new lead for now. He scooped up Joy, thanked Sally for the tea, and stepped out into the cool evening air, determined to uncover the truth, one clue at a time.

  The following day, Richard and Joy started early. They stopped by Sally’s diner for tea and a breakfast sandwich, and Richard split the meal with the pup as they strolled through the quiet streets. The sky was a crisp blue, the air mild, and with Stefan’s office just a few blocks away, there seemed no reason to drive. The Explorer remained parked near the diner as they covered the short distance on foot.

  Richard arrived at Stefan’s office a few minutes before it officially opened. He noticed the posted hours on the door and was about to turn away when it swung open. Stefan stepped out, blinking in the morning light.

  “Hi,” he said, offering a friendly wave. “Richard, right?”

  Richard nodded with a polite smile. “That’s me.”

  “I remember seeing you at the diner a few days ago,” Stefan said, stepping aside to let them in. “Come on in.”

  Richard hesitated only briefly, gesturing to Joy. “Is it alright if she comes in too?”

  Stefan chuckled. “Of course! The town’s famous detective pup is always welcome.”

  Richard felt his cheeks warm at the compliment. News of how he and Joy had recovered Mrs. Hargrove’s missing necklace had traveled fast in their small community.

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  Inside, the office had an open, practical layout. He noticed Hank in a workshop area toward the back, tinkering with electronics. As the town’s all-purpose handymen, Stefan and Hank handled everything from basic landscaping to plumbing, even electronics. As Richard recalled, Hank was studying for an electrical engineering certification—a valuable skill in a place where reliable help was hard to come by.

  Stefan led Richard and Joy into a small adjoining office and gestured toward a modest round table. He took a seat opposite Richard and folded his arms. “So, what can I do for you?”

  Richard settled in, taking a moment to frame his request. “I’m here to talk to Hank,” he began. “I overheard you two talking at the diner about the Thompson farm the other day. Joy and I got curious and poked around the property.”

  Stefan’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “Ah, the old Thompson place,” he said, leaning back. “I had a feeling this might be about that. Hank’s been spinning stories. The boy’s imagination loves those sci-fi shows—Star Trek, Star Wars, and what have you.”

  Richard stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s just imagination,” he allowed. “But something’s definitely off out there. Maybe not aliens or ghosts, but there’s something… unusual.”

  Stefan’s expression turned serious. “I’ve known that place for years. Ever since Mr. Thompson disappeared after his wife passed, no relatives have come forward. The bank took over recently. They hired us to assess the property—and decide whether to restore or rebuild. Hank’s been sorting through the old junk in the house, separating valuables from what’s fit for the dumpster. He’s honest, that kid, if a bit lacking in common sense. I let him keep this old notebook he found—thought no harm in it.” He paused, then added, “The last time he was out there, he stayed late to dismantle a rusty heater. He claims he heard strange noises from the barn and saw a green glow in the upper windows. Scared him off well. Now, he won’t return alone, especially not at night.”

  Richard listened intently, nodding now and then. He jotted a few notes in his pad, words like green glow and old notebook underlined twice. When Stefan paused, Richard looked up. “I can’t say I blame him. Honestly, I had my own strange experience out there. I won’t get into all the details right now, but let’s just say Hank’s story isn’t entirely far-fetched.”

  Intrigue sparked in Stefan’s eyes. “Is that so?”

  Richard offered a tight smile. “If he’ll let me look at that notebook, maybe I can convince him to come back with me—see if we can figure out what’s happening. If we solve this mystery, you might easily get that property sorted.”

  Stefan stood, pushing his chair back with a creak. “Richard, if it’ll move things along, I’m all for it. Let’s go talk to the boy.”

  He gestured for Richard and Joy to follow. They stepped back through the office space toward Hank’s workshop, the tension and curiosity thick in the air. What lay at the heart of the Thompson farm’s secrets, and how would that old notebook guide them to the truth?

  “Hey, Mr. K!” Hank greeted, looking up from a disassembled electronic device as Richard and Stefan entered the workshop.

  “Hi, Hank,” Richard replied, shaking the young man’s hand. He noted Hank’s firm, respectful grip and tried to put him at ease with a nod.

  Hank glanced between his boss and Richard, sensing that this visit wasn’t just a friendly drop-in. “What can I do for you, sir?” he asked, cutting right to the point.

  Richard cleared his throat. “I’ll be honest, Hank: I’m here to ask about that leather-bound book you found at the Thompson estate.”

  At the mention of the notebook, Hank’s posture stiffened. He clasped his right arm with his left hand and subtly stepped backward. His sudden nervousness was apparent.

  Richard raised a calming hand. “It’s alright, Hank. We’re not asking you to go back there alone. I was at the estate yesterday, and let’s just say your story isn’t as far-fetched as it sounds.”

  Hank’s eyes widened, relief and surprise softening his features. He wasn’t crazy after all—someone else had seen enough to give his claims credence.

  “Now, I’m not saying anything alien or supernatural is going on,” Richard added, “but we need answers as much as you do.”

  Hank’s gaze drifted downward as Richard spoke. That’s when he noticed Joy, the town’s legendary Chiweenie, sitting patiently at Richard’s feet, panting as if participating in the conversation. The tension in Hank’s shoulders melted away at the sight of the small dog. Without a second thought, he knelt and gave Joy a friendly scratch behind the ears, smiling as she wagged her tail.

  While crouched, Hank reached into his pocket and pulled out the notebook. Standing up, he handed it over to Richard. “Please, keep it as long as you need,” he said. “I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. It starts as a sort of journal—he’s mourning his wife—and then it turns into these strange diagrams and symbols. I can tell some are mechanical or electrical designs, but they’re way beyond anything I’ve learned in class.”

  Richard flipped through a few pages, nodding at the boy’s assessment. The handwriting turned from neat and personal to something more frenetic, filled with intricate sketches and puzzling notations. “Thanks, Hank. This could be a big help.”

  He paused momentarily and stroked his chin as he considered his subsequent request. “I wondered if you’d return to the estate with me this morning. You’ve worked in the house recently and know its layout—your input could help me understand how all this fits together.”

  Hank hesitated, glancing nervously at Stefan, who gave him a slight, encouraging nod. “Sure, Mr. K.,” he said, though his voice wavered. He looked as if he wanted to ask a dozen questions.

  Sensing the young man’s unease, Richard held up a reassuring hand. “Listen, I promise you won’t be there after dark, and I won’t even ask you to step inside the barn if you don’t want to.” He noticed Hank flinch slightly at the mention of the barn. “We’ll get in, look around, and leave before nightfall. You have my word.”

  Hank studied Richard’s face, then exhaled, shoulders relaxing a bit. “You got it, Mr. K. Let me grab my tools from the truck, and I’ll meet you out front.”

  “Meet me at Sally’s diner,” Richard suggested. “My car’s still parked there.”

  They shook hands, and with that, Richard and Joy stepped outside. A few minutes later, as planned, they’d reconvene at the diner—armed with new leads and the mysterious notebook that might finally lighten the secrets hidden at the old Thompson farm.