Page 125 of Veil of Silence

After several seconds, the first two officers crossed the threshold. The others flowed inside behind them.

Austin tracked their progress through Prine’s radio.

Front room clear.

Kitchen clear.

Hallway clear.

Each announcement tightened the pressure behind his ribs.

If Cross had left the door open, he’d either fled in a hurry or wanted them to come inside.

Neither possibility reassured Austin.

The team cleared the second floor, then moved into the cellar. Other officers checked the barn and remaining outbuildings.

Finally, the team leader’s voice crackled over the radio. “Main structure clear. No occupants.”

Cross was gone.

So were Christian and Preston—if they’d been here. They still didn’t have definitive proof.

Austin’s gaze shifted toward the woods behind the farmhouse. They might have missed them by minutes—or Cross might have known they were coming before the first vehicle reached the property.

The team leader appeared in the doorway and signaled that they could enter.

Prine left cover. “Stay with me.”

Austin and Nash followed her across the yard.

The farmhouse smelled of damp wood, dust and something faintly chemical. Most of the furnishings had been removed, leaving pale rectangles on the walls where pictures had once hung. Mud streaked the floorboards, and drops of water formed a broken trail through the front room.

Someone had been here recently.

The team leader met them in the kitchen. Empty water bottles and food wrappers filled a trash bag beside the counter. Two disposable coffee cups sat near the sink. Two empty juice boxes had been crushed and tossed into the trash.

“We found a sleeping area in the back,” he said.

Austin followed him down the hall. Nash and Prine came behind him.

The room had probably been a study once. Now it held two thin foam mattresses on the floor, each covered with a gray blanket. One was long enough for a teenager. The other had been cut shorter, leaving a ragged foam edge exposed.

The blanket on the smaller mattress was tangled near the foot, and the foam sagged in the center as though someone had slept there more than once. The longer mattress looked less disturbed, but damp mud darkened the floor beside it.

Preston had been missing a few days now. Christian had only been gone a few hours.

A possibility formed in Austin’s mind.

Cross could have brought Preston here after abducting him, then left the boy with an accomplice while he returned to Fog Lake and joined the search. Later, Cross had come back with Christian.

The coffee cups suggested another adult had been here. Maybe the person was now waiting to transport the boys somewhere else.

A plastic tray sat between the mattresses with the remains of two sandwiches and an unopened juice box.

Austin crouched without touching anything. No clothes lay nearby. No toiletries. No books, toys or other possessions that suggested anyone had intended to stay for long.

This wasn’t somewhere Cross kept the boys permanently.