Page 127 of Veil of Silence

Chapter

Fifty-Two

An Evidence Response agent photographed the room as the K-9 handler appeared in the hall with the German shepherd Austin had seen at Cross’s cruiser.

The dog strained toward the mattresses, his nose sweeping rapidly over the blankets. He worked the longer mattress first, then the smaller one. Instead of moving toward the door, he doubled back and began investigating the corner.

The shepherd pressed his nose into the narrow gap between the mattress and wall, then pawed at the baseboard.

“He has something,” the handler said.

He directed his flashlight into the gap. “There’s paper back there.”

The Evidence Response agent retrieved the object with gloved fingers.

A sheet of paper had been folded into quarters and wedged flat between the baseboard and wall.

Prine stepped closer as the agent carefully unfolded it.

Austin recognized the school assessment almost immediately. The district heading and numbered questions matched the pages Nora had photographed in Christian’s room. But pencil lines covered the blank side.

This drawing didn’t show the farmhouse.

It showed a line of trees descending toward a creek. A narrow wooden footbridge crossed the water, and an arrow pointed over the bridge toward a road on the opposite bank.

Austin studied the quick, uneven strokes. This wasn’t another picture Christian had drawn from memory.

It was a route.

Away from the farmhouse.

“This was Christian’s,” Austin said.

“You’re certain?” Prine asked.

“It’s the same paper and the same drawing style.” He looked at where the page had been wedged behind the mattress. “He hid it there deliberately.”

Christian had only been gone since last night. Somehow, he had brought the assessment page with him, drawn the route and left it where someone searching the room might find it.

He had been trying to help them.

Nash pivoted toward the window and wiped a clear patch in the grime with his sleeve. “If Cross heard the vehicles coming up the main drive, he would have taken them out the back.”

Austin joined him. Beyond the streaked glass, an overgrown yard sloped toward the barn and a thick wall of trees. The rain had tapered to a fine mist, and water dripped steadily from the eaves.

“He may have known before the vehicles reached the driveway,” Austin said. “Someone else was here with the boys. That person could have been watching the roads.”

Cross had worked in law enforcement long enough to anticipate how quickly officers would surround the house. And the person waiting to transport the boys would have known when the operation was in danger.

“This place was never meant to hold them permanently,” Austin continued. “It was a transfer point.”

Preston had been missing since Friday. With search teams, checkpoints and volunteers covering the area, moving a frightened child might have been riskier than keeping him here until the search shifted elsewhere.

Temporary didn’t necessarily mean brief.

Prine raised her radio. “All perimeter units, maintain coverage on every road leaving the property. K-9 is beginning a track from the house.”

Harris’s voice answered from the rear approach. “I’ve located a gray SUV concealed near the creek. Nora Loveless is secured in my vehicle.”