Page 112 of Veil of Silence

“How many do you think are connected?” Austin asked.

“Seven. Possibly eight.” Glen tapped the folder. “Five traveled with ministries. The others lived near churches where traveling groups regularly performed.”

Seven boys. Possibly eight.

Austin looked again at the photographs spread across the table. Seven families had spent years waiting for answers, each believing their loss belonged to them alone.

Christian and Zander hadn’t been isolated victims. Someone—or several someones—had been using churches and traveling ministries to identify boys for years.

This went far beyond what they’d already heard from Roscoe and Nora’s dad.

“This isn’t one person,” he said.

Nora looked at him. “How can you know?”

“Someone identified the boys. Someone arranged the routes and payments. Then someone made them disappear without leaving an obvious connection between the cases.” Austin shook his head. “That takes more than one person. It’s a network.”

Nora’s expression tightened. “Human trafficking?”

“Possibly. I wouldn’t rule it out. But we haven’t found a profit motive. So far, the money appears to have been used to put these families in certain places before the boys disappeared.”

“Then why take them?”

Austin looked at the photographs again. “I have no idea. But I don’t think these boys were random. I think someone chose them.”

Nora’s face had gone pale. “This is bigger than Christian.”

“Yes,” Austin said.

Her gaze moved across the photographs. “And if Preston is somehow connected⁠—”

“Then whoever started this hasn’t stopped.”

Nora’s fingers stilled on the photograph. “What about Jacob? And Mason?”

“Jacob told Wren this wasn’t just about him. He said ‘we’ and never said who.” Austin met her eyes. “He also said Roy Callahan was his uncle.”

Nora said nothing for a moment. “Roy and Jacob.” Her voice thinned. “I never put them together.”

“I don’t know why Jacob took Mason.” Austin tapped the folder. “But Roy booked your family onto these routes, and Jacob was inside your family before Christian came home. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

Voices drifted through the wall from the sanctuary, people laughing and talking as equipment was packed away. The ordinary sounds felt wrong beside the photographs of so many missing children.

“Did the same groups appear at all the locations?” Austin asked.

“Mostly.” Glen turned another page. “But the singing groups weren’t the only names that kept appearing. Traveling evangelists worked those same revival circuits.”

Nora leaned closer as he ran one finger down a list of performers and speakers.

Then he stopped on a familiar name.

Reverend Whitfield.

Austin looked at Nora. “Isn’t that your pastor?”

“It’s his father, actually.” Nora studied the dates beside his name. “Our family shared several revival services with him. We called him Brother Whitfield back then.”

“I remember him,” Glen said. “Good preacher. Churches liked booking him with family groups because the music drew people in and he gave the invitation afterward.”