All That's Missing by Sarah Sullivan Page B

Ida Jones,” his grandmother said.
    â€œYes, ma’am. I sort of figured that’s who you were.”
    â€œYour grandmother,” she added.
    â€œYes, I know.”
    She leaned closer. “Where’s your grandfather?”
    â€œBack home,” Arlo said.
    Ida Jones’s eyebrows shot into sharp points. She didn’t have the thin spot after all. Her eyebrows were even all the way across, the same way her sweater was perfectly buttoned and the color of the leather in her shoes matched her pants perfectly, though they were both a bit worn and faded and there was what looked like a mustard stain on one of her sleeves.
    â€œIf Albert’s not with you, then how did you get here?”
    â€œOn a bus.” Arlo braced himself for her reaction.
    She blinked about seven times. It was as if someone had turned a windup crank in her back that was connected directly to her lids.
    â€œDid you say
bus
?”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    â€œBy yourself?”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œBut we don’t have a bus station in Edgewater.”
    â€œYes, ma’am, I know that,” Arlo said guiltily.
    She waited, and Arlo knew she must be expecting an explanation, but he didn’t say anything.
    â€œMmm, mmm, mmm,” the jutting-out-chin lady muttered. “I told you we should call the police.”
    â€œHush, Augusta. Arlo and I are talking.”
    Arlo’s grandmother blinked faster now. She had bulgy eyeballs, too. For a second, Arlo was afraid she might blink her eyeballs clear out of their sockets.“If you didn’t take the bus . . .” she said.
    â€œBut I did take a bus,” Arlo said. “I bought a ticket to Richmond and then this nice lady offered me a ride from there.”
    â€œI see,” said his grandmother, though it was clear she did not see at all.
    The jutting-out-chin lady made a throat-clearing noise, which caused his grandmother to scowl. When the jutting-out-chin lady whipped out a cell phone, Arlo’s grandmother shook her head. The jutting-out-chin lady put the phone away. And Ida Jones turned back to Arlo.
    â€œAugusta tells me you went in the McIlvoys’ house,” she said.
Blink, blink, blink, blink,
went her eyelids.
    â€œI didn’t know whose house it was,” Arlo said.
    â€œThen why did you stop there?”
    â€œIt’s where Bernice dropped me off.”
    â€œBernice?”
    â€œThe lady who gave me a ride.”
    Arlo’s grandmother narrowed her eyes. “And why did she drop you off there?”
    Great question. Unfortunately, Arlo didn’t have an answer. Luckily, the jutting-out-chin lady barged in and filled up the silence.
    â€œAbout this Bernice person . . .” she said.
    â€œAugusta, please!” Arlo’s grandmother threw up her hands.
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œIt’s all right. It’s just that we’ll never get anywhere unless . . .”
    â€œActually, it was Tyrone who was driving,” Arlo said. “Bernice is his mom.”
    â€œSlow down, Arlo,” Ida Jones said. “You’re confusing us.”
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œThat’s OK. But, I still don’t understand who this Bernice person is. Did your grandfather ask her to help?”
    â€œNo, ma’am. I just met her at the bus station. She helped me buy my ticket.”
    The jutting-out-chin lady picked up her cell phone again, but this time Arlo’s grandmother grabbed it before she had time to punch in a number.
    â€œControl yourself,” she snapped. Then she turned to Arlo. “Surely your grandfather bought your ticket for you,” she said.
    â€œNot exactly,” Arlo said.
    â€œHe either bought it or he didn’t,” the jutting-out-chin lady said.
    â€œAugusta, this doesn’t concern you.” Arlo’s grandmother wagged a finger at her.
    â€œI’m only trying to help.”
    â€œI know you are, but I think Arlo and I can handle this