The Case of the Lost Boy (5 page)

He could have been kidnapped!

I know all about kidnapping. That’s when a stranger—or sometimes not a stranger—takes you away from your house or your neighborhood and something bad happens. That’s what Uncle Marty did to me when he took me to the
P-O-U-N-D
.

Next I try and think of reasons why none of these things could have happened to Connor.

Here’s why Connor couldn’t have gotten hurt:

If Connor were hurt, I would have found him.

Unless a human stopped to help him. Maybe that human had a car. Maybe the human took him to the hospital. That would explain why Connor’s trail disappeared in the middle of the street.

But if he was at the hospital, wouldn’t someone have called Mom?

Here’s why Connor couldn’t have run away:

He hasn’t lived here very long. He doesn’t have anyone to run away to. Not in Four Lakes.

He might try to go back to where his dad and his friends live. But they live in place called California.

It would be hard for Connor to go back there.

California is so far away that Connor would have to drive eleventy-three days to get there. Connor is too young to drive. Or he would have to take an airplane. But there are no airplanes on our block.

Here’s why Connor couldn’t have been kidnapped:

I don’t want to even think about Connor being kidnapped.

But Kayla says a good detective thinks about every possibility. Even the possibilities he doesn’t want to think about.

I think about that strange man we passed. The one who smelled dangerous. Could he be the kidnapping kind of dangerous? Could he have come back while I was sniffing around Kayla’s house? Could he have come back with his car and taken Connor away?

The police ask Mom a few more questions. Unimportant things like what does Connor look like? He looks like any other boy. What is he wearing today? He is wearing a shirt and pants, like every other boy.

These are not questions that will help us find Connor. Here are some better questions to ask:

Can you describe Connor’s scent?

Connor smells like bacon, eggs, toothpaste, and dirt.

Where was Connor last seen?

Open the door and I will take you there.

Have you noticed anything unusual in the neighborhood today? Anything that made you feel uncomfortable?

Yes. There was a strange man. He smelled dangerous. We saw him just before Connor disappeared. “Open the door and I will see if I can find him,” I say to the police.

“Buddy!” Mom says sharply. “Stop barking!”

Barking. Such an ugly-sounding word. It means talking with your mouth rather than your eyes or your ears or your tail. Humans bark more than any other animal, yet they don’t like it when anyone else does it.

“Do you know which direction he went with your dog?” Jelly Donut asks.

Mom gazes out the window. “I think they went that way.” She points up the hill.

“No!” I say. “We went the other way. Open the door and I’ll show you where we went. I’ll show you where I was when I noticed Connor was gone. I’ll show you where I picked up his trail, and I’ll show you where it disappeared.”

“Have you asked any of your neighbors whether they’ve seen him?” Plain Donut asks Mom.

“Mouse put out an alert,” I say.

It’s like I’m invisible. No one pays any attention to me at all.

“We don’t really know any of our neighbors yet,” Mom says.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jelly Donut says. “Do you have a picture of your son? We’ll knock on some doors and see if anyone has seen him.”

Mom opens her purse and pulls out a picture of Connor. She hands it to Jelly Donut. Then they all head for the door.

As soon as the door opens, I hear Mouse calling out to me. “KING! KING! CAN YOU HEAR ME? I HAVE NEWS ABOUT YOUR BOY!”

“News?” I cry. “What news?” I hope I can get the news before the door closes.

“BUSTER JUST TALKED TO SOMEONE FROM THE NEXT NEIGHBORHOOD OVER,” I hear Mouse call from down the street. “IT SOUNDS LIKE YOUR HUMAN MAY BE PLAYING AT THE PARK.”

“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.

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.