Page 108 of Veil of Silence

Nora nodded. “Agreed.”

“And don’t confront him alone.”

“I’m not planning to.”

“You weren’t planning to search his room, either.”

“Is that an official FBI observation?”

“It’s a personal one.”

A faint smile touched her mouth, then disappeared. “I believed Jacob. Then I believed that boy was my brother. I promised myself I wouldn’t miss the signs again.”

Austin remembered how she’d hesitated before showing him the photograph of the report. She’d found the evidence and still sounded as if she blamed herself for needing it.

“Jacob lied to you. This boy lied to your whole family.”

“That’s what scares me.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I don’t know if I can trust what my instincts tell me anymore.”

Austin wondered whether she meant only Christian. He wanted to tell her she could trust him. But after what she’d just said, asking her to take his word for it would mean very little.

“You kept asking questions,” he said. “You found the report.”

“And I’m afraid of what else we’ll find.”

“So am I. I don’t know what my dad learned. I wish I’d asked him while I still could.”

Nora’s expression softened. “We’ll ask the Daltons and see what they say.”

His dad had called the Daltons before he died. Their son had disappeared two years before Christian. The family might know something relevant to the investigation.

Austin rested his hand on the console between them. “And afterward, we’ll decide what to do about the boy at your house.”

“You make that sound simple.”

“It isn’t.” He turned his hand palm up. “But we can take the next step.”

Nora placed her fingers in his. For a moment, they sat listening to the rain.

Then Austin released her hand, started the engine, and eased back onto the highway.

Chapter

Forty-Three

As Nora and Austin pulled into the parking lot of New Hope Baptist Church, she noticed the rain had stopped. Water glistened across the pavement beneath tall lights, and mist hovered among the trees bordering the property.

Nora stared at the church. The building itself was larger than she’d expected, with a tall white steeple rising above a sprawling brick building.

A bus waited near the side entrance.

DALTON FAMILY MINISTRIES had been painted across it in black letters, now faded.

Nora stared at the name.

Christian had loved the tour buses.

He’d wanted to explore each one, convinced that other buses contained something theirs didn’t. Bunk beds. A better refrigerator. A television larger than the one Dad had mounted above the driver’s seat.