All That's Missing by Sarah Sullivan

lady lifted her chin, throwing a shadow across Arlo’s face.
    â€œI thought you lived someplace near Roanoke,” she said.
    â€œNo. I live in Marshboro,” Arlo said.
    The lady’s jaw jutted out so sharply, it could slice off his nose. “Marshboro’s a good six-hour drive from here,” she said. “What was your grandfather thinking, sending you off on a journey like that by yourself?”
    Arlo’s palms were sweaty. If this lady turned him in, he might never see his grandmother. She walked over to the window and flipped the blind so she could see outside.
    â€œYou still haven’t answered my question. Those people. Who were they?”
    He might as well get it over with. He was going to have to tell his grandmother anyway. Telling this lady would be good practice.
    â€œWell?” The lady drummed her fingers on the windowsill.
    â€œI met Bernice at the bus station,” Arlo said.
    â€œYou’re traveling with a person you met in a bus station?”
    â€œBernice is real nice. She and her son Tyrone gave me a ride.”
    â€œUnbelievable.” The lines on the lady’s forehead hardened. She leaned toward Arlo. “You sure you weren’t looking for something in the McIlvoys’ house?”
    Arlo shook his head. Was she accusing him of stealing? “No, ma’am. Really. I was just trying to figure out where my grandmother lives.”
    The lady didn’t look convinced. Two minutes ago, she’d been Mrs. Santa Claus. Now she was the Wicked Witch of the West.
Please.
He was tired. And hungry. And he needed to see his grandmother. Tears burned at the back of his eyelids.
    Finally, she softened her gaze. “I don’t mean to be so hard on you,” she said. “But I happen to know it’s been years since Ida’s seen her grandson. And the way things are out there in the world these days, a person can’t be too careful. Especially a person of advanced years, like myself.”
    â€œNo, ma’am. I mean, yes, ma’am, I understand.”
    She continued staring at him. “I suppose we might as well go ahead and call Ida now?”
    â€œThat would be nice. Thank you,” Arlo said. He held his breath. She could call the police for all he knew.
    She started to say something else, but she must have thought better of it. “Why don’t you just rest there on the sofa?” she said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
    Arlo leaned back and stuffed a pillow under his head. He wouldn’t actually sleep. He would only rest his eyes for a second. A few minutes at the most. Who knows what was happening back in Marshboro? Miss Hasslebarger must have called the police by now. They could be looking for him all over Virginia. They could have bulletins posted across the entire United States, for all Arlo knew. Any second now a police cruiser might pull up to the front door. What if Tyrone had called the authorities? Or what if a neighbor had noticed Arlo going in that empty house — a neighbor besides the jutting-out-chin lady, that is. What if someone had reported a strange boy walking into the McIlvoys’ residence? If Arlo heard a siren outside, he’d be out of this house in a flash. He’d be down the sidewalk so fast, no one would know he was gone until he was so far away they’d never find him.
    When the jutting-out-chin lady came back through the swinging door, Arlo jumped about three feet.
    â€œDidn’t mean to scare you, son. You’re acting awful nervous. Did you do something wrong?”
    â€œI’m just anxious to see my grandmother. It’s been a long time.”
    â€œHmph. That’s the understatement of the year. Ida said she’d be here in five minutes. I’m going to make a pot of coffee. You need anything?”
    â€œNo, thank you. I think I’ll just wait here on the sofa.”
    â€œSuit yourself.”
    Arlo took a deep breath and tried to relax