A squad of police cruisers screeched into the lot, closely followed by an ambulance. A crew of policemen, led by Officer Reilly, jumped out of their cars and sprinted across the parking lot toward us. 

Yogi pulled Stevie’s phone from the front pocket of his overalls. In his gigantic hand the phone looked three times smaller. Yogi looked at me and Bones, his mouth set in a thin line and the twinkle in his eyes gone. 

“I found your calculator in the back seat of the police car,” he said. “It must have fallen out of your pocket.” He handed me the phone. 

The LightYear app was on the screen. Uh-oh. He must have been looking at it. What did he know? I looked at his face, but couldn’t figure out his expression. 

The police had almost reached us when Yogi leaned over and whispered, “I’m not a very educated man, but this thing ain’t from our time. And I’m guessing you ain’t either.” 

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