The Case of the Lost Boy Read Online Free Page A

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!”

6
Smells Like a Kidnapping
    “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