The Case of the Missing Family Read Free Page B

side of the building and Raina goes in the other side.
    I have a feeling we’re going to be here for a while. Since the back door didn’t latch, I wonder if I can get out and stretch my legs for a few minutes.
    I climb over the boxes and furniture and push against the back door. It opens faster than I expect it to. But I land on my feet on the ground below.
    Freedom!
    First things first. I need to find a tree or the perfect swatch of grass. Sniff ... sniff ... sniff ... a lot of dogs have been here before me. I don’t like to go in exactly the same spot everyone else goes.
    But I also don’t like to go in a spot where nobody else has gone before, either.
    Sniff ... sniff ... sniff ... ah, here we go. The perfect spot! I lift my leg and relieve myself.
    I wonder if there are any dogs in any of those other cars or trucks? If there are, maybe they can tell me how close we are to Springtown.
    I go check out the vehicles. The little car that only has one door on each side smells like Dog. Poodle, to be exact. But I don’t see any poodle around.
    A rusty truck in the next row smells like German shepherd. German shepherds usually know what’s going on. If this German shepherd was around, he could probably tell me exactly how far Springtown is. But I don’t see any German shepherd, either.
    I’m about to go sniff the bus when I notice the back lights on Uncle Marty’s trailer blink on. The back of the van is closed up and the van and trailer are moving forward.
    Uh-oh. Uncle Marty and Raina are leaving without me.

5
Don’t Be Afraid to Ask for Help
    I don’t think. I just RUN!
    I run as fast as I can along the side of the highway. But Uncle Marty is getting farther and farther ahead of me.
    A car pulls up next to me, and a lady sticks her head out the front window. “Hey, little doggy,” she says as the car rolls along beside me. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”
    There’s a man driving the car and a Jack Russell terrier in the backseat.
    “Are you running away from someone or are you trying to catch someone?” the terrier asks me.
    “Trying ... to catch ... someone,” I pant. I’ve been running so hard I can hardly breathe. “That van ... with the trailer ... up there.”
    The car pulls ahead of me and stops. The lady gets out. “Come here, little doggy.” She pats her thighs. “I’ll help you find your owner.”
    I run right on past her. I don’t take rides from strangers. Even if they’re with a dog.
    “Have you tried the Network?” the terrier calls to me.
    The Network is great if you live in a town. If you need help or you just need to get a message to another dog, all you have to do is say so. Any dog that can hear you will pass your message on to dogs who can hear them but can’t hear you.
    I don’t think the Network is very useful out here, so I just keep running. Who, besides this Jack Russell terrier, would hear me? And even if someone else did hear me, what could they do? I’ve never met a dog who was strong enough to stop a moving van.
    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