The Case of the Missing Family (5 page)

But the terrier puts out a call over the Network anyway.

“HEY!” he shouts at the top of his lungs. “DOES ANYONE SEE THAT VAN WITH THE TRAILER UP AHEAD ON THE HIGHWAY? I’VE GOT A GOLDEN RETRIEVER HERE WHO REALLY NEEDS TO CATCH THAT VAN!”

“Stop barking, Poochie,” the Jack Russell terrier’s human says. “We’re trying to help this other dog.”

I keep running. Just when I think I can’t run anymore, I see the lights on the back of Uncle Marty’s trailer come on again. The van and trailer swerve to the side of the road and then skid to a stop.

A car ahead of Uncle Marty stops on the other side of the road. There is a duffel bag sitting on the pavement. Right where Uncle Marty would have hit it if he hadn’t swerved out of the way.

The people from the car get out and run back to get the duffel bag.

Now’s my chance. I pour on the speed.

Maybe I can catch the van before it pulls back onto the highway. I run and I run and I run. But just before I reach the trailer, the van starts moving again.

No!

I can’t let them get away. I don’t know what else to do except ... close my eyes and JUMP!

I don’t know if I’ve jumped far enough until my front paws come down hard on Dad’s footstool and my back paws come down on the edge of the trailer.

Yes! I am IN THE TRAILER. The wind blows my ears up off my head.

We drive past the stopped car, and I see a Rottweiler in the open back window. He nods at me. He must be the one who pushed that duffel bag out the window.

“Thanks!” I wave to him with my tail.

“No problem,” he says. “Don’t be afraid to ask for help, Buddy.”

How did he know my name?

There’s another car coming up fast behind us. It’s the car with the Jack Russell terrier. I watch as the driver pulls up even with the van and drives beside it. The lady who tried to get me to go with them waves at Uncle Marty then points at me.

Oh no!

The last thing I need is for Uncle Marty to see me back here. I quickly dive under Dad’s footstool. It’s a tight fit, and I can’t quite squeeze my whole body under there. But at least I’m low enough that if Uncle Marty or Raina turns around they won’t see me.

Mmm. The footstool smells just like Dad. Coffee and newspapers.

Next to the footstool is Mom’s living room couch, which I was never allowed on. There are two chairs on top of the couch and ... sniff, sniff ... the mattress from Kayla’s bed is wedged between the back of the couch and the side of the trailer. It smells like books and Kayla’s blanket and everything Kayla!

My stomach growls. There’s all this furniture in the trailer, but no food. And it’s way past breakfast time.

I wonder if Connor and Mom know that I’m gone? Probably. I had hoped to be home before they woke up.

I see a picture inside my head of Connor and Mom. They are sitting at the kitchen table, and there are plates of bacon and eggs in front of them. I LOVE bacon and eggs. They’re my favorite foods!

But Connor and Mom are not eating their bacon and eggs because they are missing me so much.

I miss them, too.

I wish I could tell them that I’ll be back. As soon as I find Kayla and Dad, I’ll be back.

But what if Kayla and Dad need me as much as Connor and Mom do?

I never thought about that. What will I do then?

The van is moving slower. But it’s still moving. We must have gotten off the highway. Maybe
now
we’re close to Springtown.

I want to crawl out from under this footstool and see where we are. But I probably shouldn’t. I don’t want Uncle Marty to turn around and see me.

Sniff ... sniff ...

I smell cornfields. And bean fields. But I also smell gasoline and big trucks and coffee and donuts. I LOVE donuts. They’re my favorite food!

We drive past the donuts and the van slows even more. Finally it stops.

Are we there? (Wherever we’re going?)

It’s really, really hard to stay where I am. But I know I have to. At least until I know for sure where we are.

“Over here,” Uncle Marty says. “Number fifteen.”

Number fifteen? What’s that? A house number? Is that where Grandma lives?

Sniff ... sniff ...
I don’t remember what Grandma smells like. It’s been a long time since I’ve smelled her. But I smell other people in the air. People I don’t know.

Unfortunately, none of them is Kayla or Dad.

I hear a garage door go up.

“Wow! This is big,” Raina says.

What’s
big?

“Big enough, anyway,” Uncle Marty says. “Let’s get started.”

I hear something unlatch on the trailer, and then it feels like someone has stepped up into it. Two someones, actually.

I squish myself as far under the footstool as I possibly can. The ropes that were holding all the boxes and furniture down come loose around me.

“Be careful,” Uncle Marty says. “That’s a heavy one.”

“I’ve got it,” Raina says.

I feel the weight of the trailer shift as Uncle Marty and Raina step back to the ground. I hear their footsteps moving away.

Slowly, I creep out from under the footstool and poke my head up above the side of the trailer.

We aren’t at a house at all. We’re at a long building that’s full of garages! The garage right next to the trailer is standing wide open. Some of Kayla, Dad, and Mom’s furniture is already in there.

I watch as Uncle Marty and Raina carry boxes to the back of the garage.

Quick, while Uncle Marty and Raina aren’t looking, I hop onto the footstool, put my front paws on the edge of the trailer, and leap to the ground.

I run around to the other side of the trailer and lie down. From there, I have a perfect view of Uncle Marty and Raina. I watch their feet as they move back and forth from the trailer to the garage. They’re taking everything off the trailer and putting it in the garage.

I don’t get it! Why are they putting all of my old people’s stuff
in here
?

Mom wouldn’t like this. She wouldn’t like it at all. She’d worry about her furniture getting dirty.

When Uncle Marty and Raina finish taking things off the trailer, they move to the van. While they are inside the van, I hurry into the garage.

It’s pretty dark in here after being outside. I sniff along the back wall behind the couch. There’s mouse poop under the couch. Mom would
really
not be happy about that.

Does Mom know what Uncle Marty and Raina are doing? Is there any way to warn her?

If there is, I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know if the Network reaches to the National Guard. And even if it did, would a dog I don’t know be able to make Mom understand such a complicated message? Mom only understands simple Dog phrases like:
You forgot to feed me, I need fresh water in my bowl, would you like to play ball,
and
I need to go outside
.

Still, it might be worth a try. Once I’m back home.

Right now I need a plan. A plan for what I’m going to do next.

I found out where Uncle Marty and Raina were going with my old people’s stuff. But it wasn’t to my old people. I’m not any closer to finding them than I was before I left Four Lakes. So what should I do now?

Here are some ideas:

Go back to Four Lakes.

Get back in the van and see where Uncle Marty and Raina go next.

See if I can find Springtown.

The idea I like best is “See if I can find Springtown.” That’s the best way to find out what happened to Kayla and Dad.

But I don’t know where Springtown is. It must be close. Uncle Marty and Raina talked about how far away it was. But I can’t read street signs, so how will I ever find it by myself?

Maybe “Get back in the van and see where Uncle Marty and Raina go next” is a better idea. Maybe
they’re
going to Springtown.

Or maybe they’re going back to Four Lakes. That would be okay, too. Connor and Mom must be pretty worried about me. If Uncle Marty and Raina are going back to Springtown, it would be nice to catch a ride with them. It would take me forever to walk back.

It doesn’t matter whether Uncle Marty and Raina are headed to Springtown or Four Lakes. Either way, getting back in the van is definitely the best idea.

I creep slowly out from behind the couch so Uncle Marty and Raina don’t see me. But they aren’t anywhere in the garage.

Uh-oh. The big garage door is going down!

Darkness.

A lock clicks into place on the outside of the garage door. I hear the van doors open and close. Then I hear the van start up and drive away.

I wander around the garage, around all the boxes and furniture. I can see pretty well in the dark. Unfortunately, I don’t see a way out of here.

I go to the big garage door and scratch at it. It rattles, but doesn’t budge.

“Hello? Can anybody hear me?” I call.

If ever there was a good time to use the Network, this is it.

“HELLO!” I try again. Louder this time. “I’M LOCKED IN A BUILDING THAT LOOKS LIKE A BUNCH OF GARAGES FROM THE OUTSIDE! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME? CAN ANYONE HELP?”

No answer.

Hmm. There must not be any dogs nearby. If there were, they’d answer. Dogs don’t ignore calls over the Network.

I pace back and forth in front of the door. There’s got to be a way out of here.

I sniff along the edge of the garage, right next to the wall. Maybe there’s a loose board or a hole I can make bigger. But I don’t see any loose boards or holes.

I push against the wall, but nothing happens. I scratch at the wall. I ram my shoulder against it. I even take a running start and ram my shoulder again.

All that happens is: I get a sore shoulder.

“HELLO?” I give the Network another try. You never know when a new dog might wander by. “HELLO? CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?”

Still no answer.

My shoulders slump. I could be stuck in this garage until Uncle Marty and Raina come back.

What if they
never
come back?