Page 61 of Veil of Silence

“I watched him jump it over five crayons.” Nora stared at the toy through the plastic. “It was in Shelby’s living room when I left.”

Austin nodded toward the evidence bag. “Where did you find it?”

“On the passenger-side floorboard. We’ll have Shelby confirm it belongs to Preston.”

“A child’s toy in his father’s truck wouldn’t normally mean much,” Austin said. “But if Nora saw Preston with it yesterday, somebody had to bring it here after she left.”

“Mikey could have picked Preston up,” Luke said. “Or somebody could have put the car in his truck because they wanted us to believe he did.”

Nora’s gaze jerked to Luke’s. “You think it was planted?”

“I think we’re keeping all possibilities open.” Luke handed the evidence bag back to the technician.

Nora’s face paled. “Both Mikey and Preston disappeared after Mikey had been making threats about custody. Of course, everyone would assume Mikey took him.”

“And while we were searching for Mikey, we weren’t searching for another vehicle or another suspect,” Luke said. “Even if the setup eventually fell apart, it bought whoever has Preston several hours.”

The significance of the missing phone settled over Austin. Mikey had been unable to answer Shelby’s calls, defend himself, or tell anyone where he was. By the time deputies found him at the bottom of that cliff, the most valuable hours of the search were already wasted.

Austin looked at the abandoned truck. Whoever had done this hadn’t involved Mikey because he had Preston.

They had involved him because everyone would believe he did.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Nora turned into her driveway under a sky that had gone fully dark. Austin’s headlights swept in behind her. He’d driven her back to Shelby’s house to retrieve her car then followed her home.

Nora climbed out and lifted one hand in his direction, letting him know she was fine. Austin remained there as she started toward the house. Only when she reached the porch did he finally back out.

She watched his taillights disappear down the road.

No gray SUV had followed them back to Fog Lake. That should have helped her feel better. Yet it didn’t.

Something white lay near the front door, and Nora slowed when she spotted it. At first she thought a piece of junk mail had accidentally been dropped. Then she saw the name printed across the front.

CHRISTIAN LOVELESS

The letters were squared and unnaturally precise, as if whoever had written them had taken care to disguise their normal handwriting. There was no stamp or return address.

Someone had delivered it by hand.

A chill moved across Nora’s skin as she glanced behind her. The porch couldn’t be seen from the den, and anyone familiar with the property could have approached from the side yard without passing a window. Still, walking this close to the house while people were home had been risky.

She picked up the envelope and turned it over in her hands. Nothing had been written on the back.

Nora unlocked the door and stepped inside. She set her purse on the entry table but kept the envelope in her hand.

Maybe someone from church had left it. People had been delivering cards, casseroles, and handwritten Bible verses ever since Christian came home. Half of Fog Lake seemed determined to make up for ten lost years in the last three weeks.

But those people usually knocked.

Nora slid her finger beneath the flap and carefully opened the envelope. A single yellowed page, brittle with age, slipped into her hand.

It was a page torn from an old hymnal, complete with the melody line and verses printed beneath it. The title appeared at the top in faded black lettering: “Softly and Tenderly.”

Nora ran her thumb along the ragged edge where the page had been torn from the binding. Then she noticed the black ink cutting beneath several words in the lyrics.