“She took it,” he shouted. “But why? Why did she take it?” Without it, he couldn’t power the Ching, and they’d able be stuck here, in the 1970s, forever. Chief buried his head in his hands. “Now we’ve got no chance.” 

“Hey, good news!” Joe said, pointing down the street. “I found a pizza place!” 

Chief groaned and rubbed his eyes so hard stars danced inside his eyelids. It’s not like they could do much right now anyway, he mused. He needed time to think, to figure out a new plan, so they might as well get some food in their stomachs. 

“All right, let’s go, Joe,” Chief sighed, and he started walking toward the row of buildings where the pizza place stood. 

Suddenly, a whistle shrilled loudly behind them. Chief looked over his shoulder. A police officer was walking briskly at them, a whistle dangling out of the side of his mouth.

Chief turned his back on him and nonchalantly dipped his head so it was close to Joe’s ear. “Keep walking,” he muttered. “And do not turn around. As soon as we get to those buildings up there, follow me.”

Chief jammed his hands into his pockets and quickened his pace. “We need that Foozle,” he mumbled angrily. “Why did she take it? It makes no sense.”

The policeman whistled again. “Stop,” he ordered. “Stop right there.” 

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