"Killer is gone," Mom announced. She bit her lower lip. "Gone?" Daniel and I shrieked at once.

"He ran away," Mom explained. "I can't find him anywhere. He must have slipped out when I went to put some things in the garage."

"But, Mom—" I protested. "Killer never runs away. He's never done it before." "Kat is right!" Daniel agreed. "He's not brave enough to run away."

"Don't worry," Mom said. "I'm sure we'll find him. I've called the police, and they're out searching for him right now."

"I'll find Killer," Daniel cried. "Bet I can find him before the police! Come on, Carlo!"

Daniel grabbed a handful of doggie treats and ran out. Carlo followed close behind.

The door slammed shut behind them.

Poor Killer, I thought. Out somewhere alone. Probably lost. Bet he's scared.

Our new house is so close to the highway—to all those speeding cars. What will happen to my little dog?

I suddenly felt like crying. I grabbed the sponge in its container and ran up the stairs.

"It's all your fault, isn't it?" I accused the creature. "I bet you are a Grool after all!"

As I talked, the Grool pulsed. It shook so hard, I expected it to throb right out of the container.

Ba-boom. Ba-boom.

And it breathed fast and deep. Whoa-ahhh. Whoa-ahhh.

I yanked the Grool out. "We've had enough bad luck!" I wailed. "Maybe this will stop you!" I hurled the horrible thing as hard as I could against the wall.

The Grool hit the wall with a sickening splat. And I let out a shrill cry of pain.