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sounded like.

CHAPTER FIVE
    â€œH
    e’s happy to see Orion,” Isobel said. “Aren’t you, Grandpa?”
    Mr. Schuster nodded.
    â€œBit,” he said. “Bit. . . bat. . .” He looked frustrated. Finally, he raised his hand to his face and touched the side of his nose with one finger. His hand shook as he dragged the finger across his cheek. He looked at me intently the whole time, as if he were trying to tell me something. I was almost positive I knew what he meant, but I wasn’t sure if I should admit it in front of Isobel.
    Isobel picked up a pad of paper from the bedside table, set it on Mr. Schuster’s lap, and pressed a pencil into his hand.
    â€œCan you write it, Grandpa?” she said.
    I watched Mr. Schuster make a squiggly upward line. The letters he formed were shaky, but I had no trouble reading what he wrote:
Nick?
    I glanced at Isobel.
    â€œIt’s okay,” she said. “I know you know him.”
    If that was true and if Nick had done all the things Glen had said he’d done, why had she let me into the house?
    â€œI think he wants to know if you’ve seen Nick,” Isobel said. “Don’t you, Grandpa?”
    Mr. Schuster nodded.
    â€œYes,” I admitted. I looked into Mr. Schuster’s watery eyes. “He asked me to check on Orion. He also wanted me to tell you that he didn’t do it.”
    Schuster formed more letters on his notepad:
Where?
    â€œ
Where
is Nick?” I asked. He nodded. “He’s staying at his aunt’s house until his court date.”
    Mr. Schuster sank back in his chair.
    â€œGrandpa’s tired,” Isobel said. “He had physical therapy this morning and speech therapy this afternoon. We should let him rest.”
    But when I gathered Orion’s leash, Schuster grabbed me by the hand. He struggled hard to form just two words. They came out in a trembling whisper, but this time I had no trouble understanding them. He wanted me to come back.
    â€œI will,” I said. “I promise.”
    I kept a tight grip on Orion’s leash as I followed Isobel out into the hall, but he kept pulling away from me. He seemed to want to go to the back of the house.
    â€œOrion used to sleep in the back bedroom,” Isobel said. “I guess he misses it. My mom and dad are using that room while we’re here.”
    Orion followed me reluctantly down the stairs but balked at the door to the basement.
    â€œCome on, boy,” I said, giving the leash a gentle tug.
    He dug his heels in, growling and barking. I don’t know what was going through his doggy mind, but it was clear that he wanted to stay where he was. Isobel backed away.
    â€œSee?” she said, her voice trembling. “He doesn’t like it down there. But my dad says if he’s going to stay, he has to stay in the basement.”
    â€œOrion,
come
,” I said. He refused to move. I turned to Isobel. “There’s a bag of dog biscuits in my coat pocket. Can you grab me one?”
    She was back in a flash and handed me a biscuit. That got Orion’s attention. He leaned toward me, waiting to see if I would give him one. But I didn’t. Not yet. I held the biscuit out in front of him and used it to wave him through the basement door and down the stairs. When we reached the bottom, I tossed the biscuit to the farthest end of the concrete floor. Orion looked at me. I nodded curtly. He bounded across the floor. Quickly, I replaced the plywood barrier. Orion didn’t seem to notice. I retreated upstairs but left the basement light on for him. Isobel stood waiting in the front hall.
    â€œIs your grandpa going to be okay?” I asked while I pulled on my boots.
    â€œHe gets really frustrated when he has trouble talking,” Isobel said.
    â€œThat happens to a lot of people who have strokes,” I said. It had happened to my grandmother.
    â€œI know,” Isobel said. “I keep telling him