“Fair enough. I’m going to collect my gadgets and head for the barn.”

“Acknowledged.”

I pulled the rest of the gadgets from the depths of the recliner and dropped them in my backpack. I picked it up and swung it onto my back, then stopped. Pulling out my phone, I began to type furiously.

Barn broken into. Someone snooped around. Sheldon says no harm. Patrick—check with Tim. Nat—if Sheldon can retrieve face shot can you do reverse image search?

That would give my friends something to think about. I hoped it didn’t result in a dead little brother.

I looked around the barn as I entered through the regular door, then turned to closely examine the latch and frame. Nothing had been forced, because we never bothered to lock it. The door wouldn’t have put up much of a fight anyway. As security equipment went, it was more at the level of a suggestion than an actual barrier. And honestly, I probably couldn’t have located the key if I wanted to. That would have to change. In fact, a security audit of the entire barn might be in order.

I wandered around for a few minutes, but other than some items possibly being moved, there was no damage and no indication of a break-in. I spoke into the air. “Sheldon, have you managed to get a clear image of the guy’s face from your logs? If so, is there any way to get it to me?”

My phone dinged as a text arrived. I didn’t recognize the number but the caller ID said Sheldon, and the attachment was an obvious still from a video. The background was my workbench, and the figure in the foreground was someone I didn’t recognize. Middle-aged, slightly jowly with incipient bags under the eyes, the man was completely forgettable—the kind of person who would fade into the background in an empty room.

“How the hell did you do that? You don’t even have a phone.”

Two more texts arrived simultaneously. Dinner’s Ready, and, Oh please. Hacking the cell phone system is one step above bashing rocks together. As a bonus, I am now a Wi-Fi hotspot.

I forwarded the image to Nat, then headed back to the house for dinner.

“We have problems,” Nat said.

“We certainly do,” Patrick replied.

“Me first,” Nat said. She opened her laptop and turned it so we could see the screen. A website with lurid graphics screamed ARE THEY AMONG US? Below the banner, images of flying saucers and aliens vied for space with overblown claims and leading questions.

Nat scrolled down until a face appeared.