“He’s there now?” I wiggle my nose in between the door and Jelly Donut’s leg and squeeze my way out.
I have to get to the park. I have to find Connor.
“Buddy!” Mom yells at me. “Come back here!”
“I know where Connor is,” I call back to her. “Follow me!”
I keep on running. I dart through the Deerbergs’ backyard ... through the flowers ... through the Sanchezes’ backyard.
I run all the way to the park. It feels strange to be here without Kayla. But I can’t think about Kayla right now. I have to think about Connor. Where is he?
I check the swings. I check the climbing toy. I check inside the slide.
No Connor.
I check the bushes. I check the other bushes. I check the creek.
Still no Connor.
I put my nose to the ground and sniff. I sniff all around the park, but I don’t pick up Connor’s scent anywhere.
“Hey!” I call out to anyone who can hear me. “I’m the one who is looking for the missing boy. My friend Mouse heard through the Network that my boy was at the park. Did someone smell him there?
Several nearby dogs start talking at once:
“I smelled him!”
“I smelled him, too!”
“Toast, cereal, soap, and sweaty socks, right? You’ll pick up his scent over by the swings.”
Toast, cereal, soap, and sweaty socks? No, that’s not Connor.
“Connor smells like eggs, bacon, toothpaste, and dirt,” I say.
Silence.
“Sounds like the message got a little mixed up,” says a little dog across the street.
That happens sometimes. One dog mixes up the information a little bit. The next dog mixes it up more. Pretty soon the message is completely wrong.
My shoulders sag. “So none of you has smelled a mix of eggs, bacon, toothpaste, and dirt?”
“No.” “Nope.” “Sorry,” they all reply.
If I were human, I could let the sadness and frustration I’m feeling drip out of my eyes. Since I’m not human, I have no choice but to carry the sadness and frustration in my heart.
“We’ll send out another alert,” says a big dog from a block away.
I hear the alert go out: “Please report back to Mouse or King if you smell eggs, bacon, toothpaste, and dirt.”
But Connor could be anywhere by now.
While I am standing there trying to decide what to do next, a couple of police officers come up behind me. These are not the same donut-eating police officers who were at Connor’s house a little while ago.
One is a lady police officer who smells like burnt toast. I am not a fan of burnt toast, but I will eat it if it’s there. The other officer smells like a fishing boat.
“There he is!” Burnt Toast Lady says.
“Grab him,” Fishing Boat says.
Grab who? Me?
I take off running again. No one else has done much to find Connor. It’s up to me.
“Somebody! Grab that dog!” Fishing Boat calls out.
And before I know it, all the humans in the entire park are chasing me.
I leap over a swing ... duck under the climbing toy ... and RUN.
All the way to the fence.
Uh-oh. Dead end. There is nowhere to run.
Burnt Toast Lady snaps a leash to my collar. Fishing Boat talks into a small box. “We’ve got the dog,” he says. “Where should we take him?”
I hear crackling inside that box. Then a voice: “Back to his house. 2120 Holiday Drive. The mother is waiting there.” At least they aren’t taking me back to the P-O-U-N-D.
The two police officers walk me back to Connor’s house.
“We should come back and talk to people in the park,” Burnt Toast Lady says to Fishing Boat. “Maybe someone has seen the missing boy.”
“We should also search the park,” Fishing Boat says. “Maybe he’s hiding somewhere?”
“No, no,” I tell them. “He’s not in the park. I would have picked up his scent if he was.”
We cross the street where Kayla lives.
“Let’s go this way,” I say, pulling on the leash. “I’ll show you where I lost Connor.”
“Wow, this is one strong dog,” Burnt Toast Lady says. She tightens her grip on my leash.
I’m thinking she’s pretty strong, too. She pulls me from Kayla’s street and leads me to Connor’s street.
“Hey, isn’t this the neighborhood where that guy tried to get some kid to go into his car last week?” Fishing Boat asks.
I gulp.
“Yes. It was a couple blocks from here,” Burnt Toast Lady says. “We never did find the car.”
“That kid got away, though,” Fishing Boat says. “That’s the important thing.”
“Do you think we’re looking at a kidnapping with this kid?” Burnt Toast Lady asks.
“Nah,” Fishing Boat replies. “I think this is just a lost kid.”
I hope so. Lost kids are usually found. But kidnapped kids? I don’t want to think about it.
7
What Do I Know?
I’m depressed. The police brought me back to Connor’s house. Then they went back to look for Connor some more. Without me.
Without Mom, too. I think she’s as depressed as I am.
“I feel like I should be out looking for Connor with everyone else,” Mom says as she stares out the window.
Me, too.
Mom turns to me. “Do you know where Connor is, Buddy?” she asks.
“No,” I say. “I wish I did.” I lick her hand because I feel bad that I don’t know.
Mom lets out a breath of air. “I sure wish you could talk,” she says, scratching my ears.
I can. I wish you could understand me.
“I bet you saw something when you were out with him,” Mom says. “I bet you know something the rest of us don’t know. I wish you could tell us what that is.”
But I didn’t see anything. And now I don’t think I know anything that would help Mom or the police find Connor.
Here is what I know:
Connor and I left his house together.
He was still with me when we got to Kayla’s house.
He disappeared when I tried to go into Kayla’s backyard.
I followed Connor’s scent around the yard and down the street.
Connor’s scent disappeared in the middle of the street.
Here is what I don’t know:
Where is Connor?
Why does his scent disappear in the middle of the street?
Is he okay?
I don’t have a plan to find out what I don’t know. And I don’t know how to make one.
I flop down on my belly and put my head on my paws. Who am I kidding? I’m not the King of Crime-solving. I’m not even good at solving mysteries. Not by myself. Kayla is the one who is good at solving mysteries. If Kayla was here, she’d know what to do.
So ... what would Kayla do? I ask myself.
“Huh?” I say. Because I don’t normally talk to myself.
But I ask again: What would Kayla do? How would she find Connor?
Kayla says we always know more than we think we do. The problem is we don’t always know what we know.
I think about my lists. I think so hard I give myself a headache. Do I know more than I think I do?
Maybe ...
I also know:
Mouse put out an alert.
No dog has reported seeing Connor.
What does that mean?
It means Connor disappeared when no dog was looking.
But a cat was looking. Maybe Cat with No Name knows more than he thinks he does? Or maybe he knows more than he told me?
I could talk to Cat with No Name again.
What else do I know?
Connor and I passed a stranger who smelled dangerous.
The police said that a stranger tried to get a kid into his car a couple blocks from here.
I could also try to look for the
stranger from this morning and see what I can find out about him.
Kayla would probably watch him and write down the things that he did in her notebook. If he went somewhere, she would follow him.
Kayla would also go back to the scene of the crime. Or in this case, back to the place where Connor disappeared. She would sit there for eleventy-five minutes and write down everything that happened. This is called a stakeout.
Unfortunately, a stakeout does not involve steak. I LOVE steak. It’s my favorite food!
If I set up a stakeout where Connor disappeared, maybe I will see something that will help me solve this mystery.
Now I have several plans:
Talk to Cat with No Name.
Find the stranger from this morning and see what I can learn about him.
Set up a stakeout where Connor disappeared.
The only problem is I can’t do any of these things from inside the house. I have to go out.
I walk over to Mom and let out a small woof.
Mom looks at me. “You want to go outside?”
Yes! I head for the door. But Mom doesn’t follow.
“You’ve already been out twice this morning,” Mom says in a tired voice. “You don’t need to go out again.”
“Yes, I do! If you want to find Connor, you have to let me outside.”
Mom tilts her head at me. Does she understand? “Do you really need to go outside again?” she asks.
“Yes! Yes, I do!” I wag my tail to show her how badly I need to go outside. Once I’m out, I’m going to go around the block and set up my stakeout. If I’m lucky, Cat with No Name and the stranger from this morning will walk by while I’m there.
“Well,” Mom says. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing. Maybe you and I should take a short walk.”
“Well ... okay. If you want to come along, that would be fine. Maybe you can write down what we see on the stakeout. Since your paws work better for writing than mine do.”
“We’re not going very far,” Mom warns me. “Just around the block. Maybe we’ll get an idea of where Connor could have gone.”
Around the block is exactly where we need to go.
Mom grabs my leash and snaps it to my collar. “Maybe we should think about putting in a doggy door,” she mutters. “The backyard is fenced. If we had a doggy door, you could go in and out whenever you wanted.”
“Really?” I say, wagging my tail. “You’d get me a doggy door? That would be SO COOL!”
I know other dogs who have doggy doors. But I’ve never had one myself. I’ve always wanted one.
Wait a minute. I won’t be here long enough to enjoy the doggy door if Mom puts one in. As soon as we find Connor, I’ll have to start looking for my family again. And when I find them, I’ll go back to my real home.
8
Smells Scary
Mom leads me down the front walk and turns toward the hill.
“No, not that way,” I tell her. “We want to go this direction.” I pull her away from the hill.
But as usual, Mom doesn’t understand. And she’s strong, so we end up going her way instead of mine. We’ll still get to the place where Connor disappeared. We’ll still be able to set up a stakeout. It will just take us longer to get there.
We pass Mr. Parker’s house. Mr. Parker is out raking his lawn. Mr. Parker is always raking his lawn. There are never any leaves on it.
“Hello, there,” Mr. Parker says to Mom. My nose twitches. Something about Mr. Parker’s yard smells strange today. A new person has been here. It’s somebody I’ve smelled before, but I can’t quite remember where. It isn’t a very nice smell, though. Kind of sweaty and ... a little bit scary.
“Hi,” Mom says. “I’m Sarah Keene. We just moved in down the street.”
Mr. Parker sets his rake against a tree and limps over to us. Mr. Parker has a bad leg, but that never stops him from working in his yard.
“Welcome to the neighborhood,” he says to Mom.
“Thank you,” Mom says. She takes out a picture and shows it to Mr. Parker. “My son was out walking the dog a little while ago, and the dog came back by himself. I’m afraid my son may have gotten lost. Have you seen this boy?”
Mr. Parker pulls a pair of glasses out of his pocket and rests them on the end of his nose. He peers at the picture.
“Can’t say that I have. But my brother is visiting from Mankato. He went out for a walk this morning. Maybe he saw your boy.”
I didn’t know Mr. Parker had a brother.
Mr. Parker turns toward his house. “Jerry!” he calls. “Hey, Jerry! Come out here a minute.”
The door opens, and I can hardly believe my eyes. The stranger from this morning steps out of Mr. Parker’s house. He stiffens when he sees me.
“That’s him!” I tell Mom. “That’s the stranger Connor and I saw this morning.”
“Buddy!” Mom says sharply.
“But, that’s the guy!” I tell her, tugging at my leash. “Can’t you smell him? Doesn’t he smell dangerous?”
I think he smells like things that jump out at you when you don’t expect them. Now I know why Mr. Parker’s yard smells funny.
“Jerry, this lady is looking for her son.” Mr. Parker limps toward Jerry with the picture Mom handed him.
“He was out walking with the dog—”
Jerry glances at the picture. “Yeah, I saw them.”
“Where?” Mom asks. “How long ago?”
“Did you follow us around the corner?” I ask Jerry. “Did you ... kidnap Connor?” I can usually tell if a human is lying or if he’s telling the truth.
I think Jerry knows this about me because he doesn’t answer Mom or me. He starts to back away.
“You’ll have to excuse my brother,” Mr. Parker tells Mom. “He doesn’t like dogs very much.”
Of course he doesn’t. Because we sense things that humans don’t.
“I know you don’t like me, Jerry,” I say, pressing closer to him. “And I don’t much like you, either. I don’t like humans who—”
“I had a run-in with a dog a couple weeks ago,” Jerry tells Mom. He rolls up his sleeve. His arm is covered with bandages.
I stop and stare. I’m ... stunned.
“You mean ... a dog did that?” I ask.
I think Mom is a little surprised, too. “I’m so sorry,” she says. “Buddy is a nice dog, though.” She pats my head to prove it. “He won’t hurt you.”
I don’t know what to say. I sniff at Jerry again. He doesn’t smell so scary anymore. He smells ... scared, not scary. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between a human who is scary and a human who is scared. I think that’s because sometimes the scariest humans are also scared of something.
Jerry is scared of me. That’s why he watched us so closely. When he said “nice dog,” he was probably telling me to BE a nice dog. Be a nice dog and don’t hurt him.
Cross off another part of my plan to find Connor. I found the stranger from this morning—Jerry didn’t have anything to do with Connor’s disappearance.
Mr. Parker adjusts his glasses and takes a good hard look at me. “Say, have you met the Dixons yet?” Mr. Parker asks Mom.
My tail stands straight up. The Dixons? Those are my people! Kayla, Mom, and Dad.
“No, not yet,” Mom says. “Where do they live?”
“On the next street over,” Mr. Parker says. “They have a dog that looks just like yours.”
“Really?” Mom says.
“’Course, I haven’t seen that dog around lately,” Mr. Parker says. “The lady is in the military, and I think the dad and little girl went out of town a while back. They probably took the dog with them.”
I wish.
“I’ll look forward to meeting them,” Mom says. “Goodbye.”
Then we start walking again.
Now I am on the lookout for Cat with No Name and for a place to set up our stakeout.
We continue down the street, around the corner ... and around anot
her corner. We’re getting close to Kayla’s house. But we’re coming at it from a different direction. As we get close, I pick up Connor’s scent again. I follow it VERY carefully ... zigzagging across the sidewalk and the grass ... just in case I missed a clue before.
“What are you doing, Buddy?” Mom asks.
“Looking for Connor,” I tell her. She has a short memory. Isn’t that why we’re on this walk? So that we can set up a stakeout and find Connor?
I follow Connor’s scent across the grass and out toward the street. There is a sharp tug on my collar.
“No, Buddy,” Mom says. “We’re not going to cross the street.”
“But we have to,” I tell her. “That’s where Connor disappeared.”
I pull harder and Mom grabs the leash with both hands. She is stronger than she looks.
“I think we need to sign up for an obedience class,” she says, holding tight to my leash. “I’m not going to be able to take you to school unless I can control you better.”
I don’t know what obedience is, but I’m not going to worry about that now. We have to find Connor!
I look both ways, then pull hard on my leash one more time. Sniff ... sniff ... sniff ... I follow Connor’s scent to the place where it ends.
“Buddy,” Mom says. “Let’s get out of the street.”
“In a minute,” I tell her. “We can set up our stakeout over by that tree. But first I want to make sure I didn’t miss any clues.”
I sniff. I listen. I look.
Up ahead a bus wheezes to a stop next to the curb. I stand there and watch as three humans get off the bus and one human gets on.
Hmm. That gives me an idea.
Maybe we don’t need that stakeout after all.
9
How to Talk Human
Connor’s scent disappeared in the middle of the street. That might have meant he got into a car. But he could have gotten into something else.
He could have gotten into a bus!
“We need to find out where that bus goes,” I tell Mom. Finding out where that bus goes could be the key to finding Connor.
I give my leash a good tug. I’m surprised when it flies out of Mom’s hand. But I don’t give her a chance to grab the leash back.
The Case of the Lost Boy Page 3
