Saving Shiloh Read Online Free Page B

chocolate sauce.” Truth is, I don’t know what we’re havin’ for lunch, but figure that’s close.
    Now I done it. Dara Lynn slides off the bed and goes hollerin’ out to the kitchen to ask why don’t we never have fudge brownies and chocolate sauce, and I get away just in time.
    David’s in the car with his mother when they pull in. For the second time that day, Shiloh thinks he’s going somewhere, but don’t even get out of the house. I give him a hug and tell him we’ll have a run when I get home, and then I slide in the backseat beside David. Since we usually play up in David’s room, his ma don’t appreciate a dog runnin’ around inside the house.
    â€œHow was Thanksgiving, Marty?” she asks. Mrs. Howard’s got blond hair, and she’s wearin’ a heavy white sweater. She teaches high school. David’s dad works for the Tyler Star-News.
    â€œYeah,” says David. “How was dinner with Judd?”
    â€œNothing special,” I say. “It was okay.”
    â€œWas he drunk?”
    â€œÂ â€™Course not, but he’s still banged up pretty bad. He’ll be wearing that cast another month, at least.”
    â€œDo you see any change in him, Marty?” asks Mrs. Howard, and I can tell by her voice she don’t expect much.
    â€œNot a lot, but Dad says he’s tryin’,” I answer.
    David and me each tell what all we ate on Thanksgiving—how many rolls and helpings of stuffing, and afterthe car goes back down the winding road, through Little, and past the post office in Friendly, we get to David’s house, which is two stories high (four, counting the attic and basement), and has a porch that wraps around three sides of it.
    David whispers he has a secret but won’t tell me till we’re in his room, so while his mom gets lunch, we go upstairs. David’s room has a map of the universe on one wall and a globe on his bookcase. Except for the bunk beds, David Howard’s bedroom looks like a school. Got his own desk and chair, bulletin board, and encyclopedias.
    As soon as we’re alone, he closes the door. “Guess what? You know that fight Judd Travers was in, back before his accident?”
    â€œYeah?” I say. “With the guy from Bens Run?”
    â€œYes,” says David. “Well, the man’s missing. It’s going to be in the newspaper this week.”
    â€œSo?” I say. “What’s Judd got to do with it? He’s been laid up for weeks now with that broken leg.”
    David’s eyes gleam like two small penlights. “The man’s been missing since before Judd’s accident. His family just now reported it. What do you bet Judd killed him?”
    â€œ What? ”
    â€œI think Judd was trying to wreck the evidence along with his truck.”
    â€œGo on!” I say. “And maybe kill himself in the bargain? You’re nuts!”
    â€œMarty, we’ve got to check it out! I’ll bet we’d find blood on the seat or something.” David gets excited about somethin’, he almost shoots off sparks.
    â€œIf there’s blood on the seat, it’s Judd’s,” I tell him.
    David shakes his head. “Here’s how I figure: Judd and the man from Bens Run had another fight, and Judd killshim. Maybe he didn’t mean to, but he did. Throws the body into the cab of his pickup to hide it, then buries it and tries to rig up an accident so any blood in the truck will look like his own.”
    David’s imagination has got us in trouble before, and I know what would happen if Judd catches us snooping around his truck.
    â€œNope,” I say. “Whelan’s Garage fixed that truck up for him after the accident. Cleaned the inside and everything. If there was any evidence, it’s long gone. Besides, he wouldn’t stuff a body in the cab. He’d put it in the back.”
    David sighs. He don’t like