Page 8 of Veil of Silence

“Everybody wants answers.”

“Yes, they do. I do too.” She nudged his shoulder lightly with hers. “But I want my brother to have room to breathe too.”

He was quiet a moment before murmuring, “Thanks.”

They ate their pie without talking about where he’d been, what he remembered, or what Donnelly might have discovered. They simply sat together on the back steps, hiding from the rest of the family.

It was the closest Nora had felt to Christian since he came home.

However, she wasn’t sure lately if she trusted her own read on anyone.

Chapter

Three

Austin Donnelly had learned a long time ago that there were two kinds of silence from his father. The first meant Dad was sleeping. The second meant he’d gotten so lost in his work that the rest of the world ceased to exist.

He stood outside Room 214 of the Mountain View Motor Lodge and knocked again. “Dad?”

Nothing.

The motel was one of those older places with doors opening directly onto a concrete walkway with metal railings, two stories wrapped around a parking lot and an ice machine humming near the stairs. Beyond the roofline, the Smoky Mountains rose against a clear blue sky, the first hints of red and gold showing among the trees.

Under different circumstances, Austin might have appreciated the view.

Today, he barely noticed it.

He’d driven from Baltimore after taking leave from work, telling himself most of the way that he was overreacting.

A few days ago, his father had mentioned leaving his home in Memphis and heading to his old stomping grounds of Knoxville. He’d been vague about why, which wasn’t unusual. What had been unusual was the timing.

Christian Loveless had just come home after being missing for ten years. The story had been all over the news.

When Austin had asked if the trip had anything to do with the case, Dad had changed the subject.

That had been answer enough.

In recent years, their relationship had improved. It still wasn’t exactly easy, but it was better. The two of them called each other more often. Saw each other when they could. The distance between Baltimore and Memphis didn’t help, and there were still things neither of them wanted to discuss.

But Austin knew his father. When Jeff Donnelly stopped answering his phone, there was usually a reason.

Austin checked his cell. Three calls yesterday. Two this morning. Six texts, if he counted the one that simply said: Seriously?

None had gotten a response.

He shoved the phone into his pocket and stared at the faded blue door. His gut had been bothering him since somewhere north of Roanoke.

He’d come all this way to prove his instincts wrong. Dad would be fine, irritated by the interruption, and ready to give Austin grief for overreacting. He desperately hoped that was the scenario that played out.

Austin knocked again, harder this time. “Dad?”

His father was sixty-two. He had high blood pressure, a bad knee, and an irritating belief that answering a cell phone was optional. None of those things usually worried Austin.

Today, they did.

A housekeeping cart sat three doors down. A woman in a gray smock folded towels into neat stacks, pretending not to watch him.

Austin strolled toward her. “Excuse me. The man staying in that room is my father. When was the last time you saw him?”