Read Online All That's Missing by Sarah Sullivan - Free Book Online Page A

strategy was to keep to himself and avoid being noticed. But the lady had her eyes on that seat.
    â€œExcuse me. Is this one taken?”
    â€œNo, ma’am.”
    â€œThank goodness. I wasn’t sure I could make it all the way to the back row with these bags.” She eased herself into the chair. “Hot in here, don’t you think?” She fanned herself with a bus schedule. “Maybe it’s just me. I don’t know. Seems like they ought to open up one of these doors, maybe get a fan going. A little air circulation would help.”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” Arlo said.
    Passengers were lining up at the gate now.
    â€œYou’re not traveling alone, are you?”
    â€œNo, ma’am. That is, I wasn’t supposed to be, but the thing is . . .”
The thing is . . . what?
Arlo wondered. Another lie.
Quickly.
He didn’t have time to waste.
    â€œYes?” she asked.
    â€œThe thing is . . . my mom got called back to work. We were on our way out the door and they had some kind of emergency. She dropped me off and told me to go ahead without her. She said she’d catch up as soon as she could.”
    Whew. The story was more complicated than he’d like, but the lady seemed to believe him, thank goodness. Her breathing scared him. It was raspy and slow, as if she needed to work hard to get air in her lungs. Each time she bent over to rearrange one of her bags, she had to stop afterward and catch her breath.
Bend . . . rest. Bend . . . rest.
    â€œWhere is it you’re headed?” she asked.
    â€œMy grandmother’s,” Arlo said.
    â€œIs it a special occasion?”
    Arlo thought fast. “It’s her birthday,” he said.
    â€œIsn’t that nice?” She smiled at him. “I’m a grandmother myself. Seeing those grandbabies is what keeps a body going at my age.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.” Arlo sneaked a look at the ticket agent to make sure he wasn’t watching.
    â€œIn fact, that’s where I’m headed today,” the lady said.
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œTo see my grandbabies.” The lady squinted toward the loading platform. “Can you read the number on that bus? My eyes aren’t so good.”
    Arlo looked in the direction she was pointing. “Seventy-three,” he said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.
    Meanwhile, the voice on the intercom called out destinations. “Wytheville, Richmond.”
    â€œMercy, that’s me.” The lady rolled forward, gathering up her bags and working her way to her feet. She grimaced when the weight came down on her right side. “What time’s your bus?” she asked.
    Arlo didn’t say anything.
    â€œSon?”
    Arlo raised his head.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” she asked.
    Arlo had story-spinning adrenaline gushing through his brain so fast, he couldn’t think of an answer. All the ideas were garbled together. He needed a story that would get him on that bus. Finally, the idea came — just in the nick of time. Arlo blurted it out.
    â€œMy mom left money for me to buy my ticket, but that ticket agent wouldn’t sell it to me.” He nodded in the direction of the man with the horn-rimmed glasses.
    In ten minutes the bus would be pulling out of the station. And probably two minutes after that, a policeman would show up, looking for “some kid named Arlo whose grandfather is in the hospital.”
    â€œYou have a phone with you?” the lady asked. “Maybe you could give your mom a call.”
    â€œMy battery died,” Arlo lied.
    â€œYou could borrow mine.”
    Oh, geez. Now what?
“She said she was going to be in a meeting,” Arlo said, digging deeper into his brain for another lie. “They wouldn’t let her take any calls.”
    â€œMmm-mmm,” the lady said. “You’re in a pickle, aren’t you?”
    â€œYes, ma’am.” It was amazing. She actually