Vanishing Acts Read Online Free Page B

Milo and me. Like we were a couple, even though we are not. Yet. And I’m not saying it will definitely happen. But it could. I think. In fact, if things continued the way they were going, it probably would.
    I think and hope so, anyway.
    We walked in silence for a while, but not an awkward, agonizing silence. It was more like a we-are-so-used-to-this-and-cool-with-each-other-so-we-don’t-have-to-speak-all-the-time silence.
    Once we got closer to Ninth Street, I kicked into detective mode. “We need to talk to as many dog owners as possible,” I told him. “So let’s split up.”
    â€œCan I borrow some paper?” he asked.
    â€œWhat for?”
    â€œSo I can take notes.”
    â€œOh, sure.” We stopped at the park entrance so I could tear off three pages from my notebook. I handed them over with my spare pen.
    When Milo reached for it, our fingers touched. I didn’t let go of my end of the pen immediately, and we smiled at each other, and then both looked away, embarrassed. And silent, because what do you say after such a perfect moment? There are no words.
    â€œI’ll take the boxer peeing on that stroller,” Milo said, pointing toward the playground.
    â€œOkay, cool. See you in a bit.”
    I headed in the opposite direction, pausing so dog-Milo could relieve himself in the grass. Once he finished, I walked up to Jane, a full-time dog walker. She walks about eighteen dogs over the course of a day, but at the moment, she had only three.
    â€œHey, Maggie,” she said. “And hi, little Milo.” She bent down to pet Milo, and I pet her three dogs—Clover, Scout, and Eminem.
    Jane used to be pretty hostile toward me—afraid I’d take away all her business, even though I’d always assured her I’m a small operation. But she warmed up to me after she heard about last month’s rescue mission.
    â€œHey, have you heard anything about this weekend’s egg attacks?” I asked.
    â€œHeard about them?” asked Jane. “Clover was a victim on Sunday morning. She’d just treed a squirrel when she got egged in the face.”
    â€œAny idea who threw it?”
    â€œNope,” said Jane. “It’s like it came from nowhere.”
    â€œDid you happen to hear any noise?” I asked.
    â€œYou mean besides the slap of the egg and poor Clover’s yelp?”
    Just hearing that brought tears to my eyes. What kind of jerk would attack an innocent dog? I sniffedand blinked hard, knowing I needed to remain calm. Detectives have got to keep their cool, act rationally, and think clearly, without letting their emotions get in the way. That’s what I read somewhere, anyway.
    â€œI only ask because the same thing happened to Cassie’s dog, and she heard laughter.”
    Jane shook her head. “There was no laughter.”
    â€œInteresting,” I replied, taking down some notes. “And what is Clover? A chocolate Lab?”
    â€œYes,” said Jane. “That’s exactly what she is.”
    I wrote that down, too. Out of the corner of my eye I spied a woman walking her two beagles. I said goodbye to Jane and ran to catch up with her.
    Turns out the woman’s dogs hadn’t been hit. And she had no idea what I was talking about. But the guy standing next to her overheard me and wanted to talk. His name was Milton. He had a purple mohawk and a black and white springer spaniel named David, and he was still fuming over his dog’s egg attack from this morning.
    â€œIt happened at eight a.m. The craziest thing. And I swear I saw a guy in a black T-shirt appear from nowhere and then run for the woods.”
    â€œWhat do you mean he appeared from nowhere?” I asked.
    â€œJust that—it’s like he was magical.”
    â€œBut that’s impossible,” I said.
    â€œThat’s what I thought, too,” said Milton. He wiggled his fingers in front of his eyes. “Totally