I closed my eyes, thinking. “He came in right before close. He wore a green jacket—army style, I think—his hair was brown, nothing special. He never really looked at the pastry case; he just pointed at the scones. When I asked if he wanted the scone, he just nodded at me.”
“Eyes?” she asked.
“Empty. Brown. Almost black.”
Parker nodded, scribbling notes with her fingertip. “Height, build?”
“A little over six feet, I think? Not muscled, more… stringy.”
“Hands?” she asked. “Anything weird? Rings, gloves, scars?”
I frowned, trying to picture it. “He wore gloves. I think. Not the work kind—more like… driving gloves? Black leather.”
Papa squeezed my shoulder. “You’re doing great. Anything else?”
I shook my head, frustrated. “It’s like I can’t remember the details. Sorry. That’s all.”
Parker smiled, a flash of approval. “Tell me about the symbol.”
I inhaled, pushing away the nerves. “It was a triangle, but I don’t remember if it pointed up or down. There might have been a line through it, or dots? I don’t know why I can’t remember.” My hands trembled, so I hid them in the sleeves of my dress.
Wrecker’s eyes softened a little. “It’s okay. Knowing it could mean danger makes details go fuzzy. We’ll get it.”
Papa reached across and took my hand in his. “Try to draw it,” he said, voice soothing. “Sometimes that helps.”
Parker handed me a notepad and a pen. I stared at the blank page, heart thudding, then sketched a triangle. My hand shook, so I scratched it out, drew it again, over and over until the paper was a mess of ink and smeared lines.
I started to feel stupid, heat creeping up my neck. “I’m sorry. It’s not coming.”
Papa leaned in close, his breath warm on my ear. “Take your time. No rush.”
I swallowed, tried again. This time, I drew a triangle with a horizontal stripe halfway up. Then one with a dot in the center. I remembered the bag; the ink had bled a little, so maybe it had been a filled-in dot. Or maybe two? I circled both options.
Parker took the page, scanned it with her tablet, and started typing.
“Okay,” she said, “I’ll run this through every database I’ve got. Symbolic, occult, military, witch, even corporate. We’ll get a hit.”
Papa grinned at me, proud. “See? Not so hard.”
I tried to smile, but my insides still buzzed with anxiety. I wanted so badly to be useful, to not waste anyone’s time.
Rocket nudged my hand, tongue lolling, and I scratched his head. He sighed, content, and the little surge of joy I got from it cut through the panic.
Wrecker took a sip of coffee, then spoke. “You ever see this guy before yesterday?”
I shook my head. “No. Never.”
He nodded, like that was the answer he’d expected.
Papa shot him a look. “What are you thinking?”
Wrecker shrugged. “If she’d seen him before, I’d say we had a local problem. But this feels… planted. Like someone sent him.”
“Could be,” Parker said. “I’ll run facial recognition too, see if there’s a match.”
She turned to me, expression gentle. “You did good, Aspen.”
I bit my lip, blinking fast. “Thanks.”
