Page 101 of Veil of Silence

Nora set her purse on the kitchen counter and stared at the staircase.

She could go upstairs, shower, and leave for the concert without touching anything that belonged to Christian.

That was what she should do.

But too many questions lingered in her mind.

And she needed some answers before she left her parents alone with Christian.

She took the stairs slowly, keeping one hand against the wall when her ribs tightened.

At the top, she paused and listened for the back door opening.

Nothing.

Through the window at the end of the hallway, she saw a thin column of smoke rising behind the barn. Her family remained gathered around the fire, but she had no way of knowing for how long.

This might be her only chance.

Nora’s pulse began beating harder as she approached Christian’s closed bedroom door. Her palm felt damp against the knob.

She was about to violate his privacy. His space. His trust. She was doing something that went against everything she believed about treating people with dignity—and she was doing it in the name of protecting her family.

If her instincts were right, she was justified. If she was wrong, she’d be the woman who searched a traumatized kid’s bedroom without cause.

She prayed she was right. Because if she wasn’t, she’d never forgive herself. And she wasn’t sure God would either.

She opened the door.

The room looked almost exactly as it had before Christian came home. A navy comforter covered the bed. An old dresser stood against one wall, and a bookcase held several books Mom had bought for him.

Two shirts hung over the back of a chair. A pair of shoes sat beside the dresser, and a paperback lay face-down on the nightstand.

Nothing decorated the walls.

Nothing made the room feel permanent.

Nora stepped inside and closed the door most of the way.

Just the papers.

The desk seemed like the logical place to begin.

She checked the desk drawers.

A folder with his school assignments. Pens. A charging cable. Two packs of gum.

Nothing else.

Nora looked at the dresser.

Opening it felt worse.

She did it anyway.

Christian’s clothes had been folded into neat stacks. She checked beneath the shirts and pants.

Nothing.