Page 124 of Veil of Silence

If this was the vehicle Cross had used, he had probably taken the boy into the woods. But how long ago?

Beyond the SUV, the ground sloped toward the creek.

The farmhouse had once been an inexpensive overnight stop for traveling families. An older couple had opened their home to groups passing through the area, and Roy had arranged for the Lovelesses to stay there.

At least, that was what Nora had always believed.

The neglected road and hidden SUV told a different story. Had the network begun using the property after the couple left? Or had something darker been concealed beneath their hospitality all along?

Harris reappeared and raised one hand, signaling for Nora to remain where she was. Then he turned toward the trees behind the SUV.

Nora leaned closer to the cracked window. At first, she heard only dripping water and the faint rush of the swollen creek.

A branch snapped somewhere in the woods.

Harris froze.

Another branch cracked. Wet leaves rustled, then everything went silent again.

Nora held her breath.

Several seconds passed.

Then a thin, broken sound carried through the trees. So faint she almost mistook it for an animal.

It came again.

A child crying.

Chapter

Fifty-One

Austin waited at the fender of the lead SUV, mist beading on the hood.

The two-story farmhouse slouched at the end of the drive as though someone had set it down and walked away. It had a steep roof. A stone chimney climbed the near wall. The porch roof dipped in the middle. One post leaned away from the steps. Paint hung from the clapboards in long gray strips, and the narrow upstairs windows stretched in a blank row.

Weeds had taken the yard, but not the drive. Two ruts cut through them, the mud inside glossy and new. The gate between the stone pillars hung open, its chain in the gravel with one link cut clean.

Beyond the house, a barn lurked at the edge of the woods, a round window under its peak catching the first gray light. Between the barn and the house, two low mounds of stone humped out of the grass.

But it was the house that kept his attention.

The front door stood open several inches.

Wind nudged it inward, then let it drift back with a faint complaint from the hinges. Beyond the threshold, a narrow strip of hallway disappeared into darkness.

Austin’s hand settled near his weapon. An open door should have made entry easier. Instead, it felt like a trap. Anyone waiting inside would have an unobstructed view of the porch and everyone approaching it.

Prine pointed toward the SUV. “You and Nash stay behind cover. Neither of you is part of the entry team.” She tapped the radio at her shoulder. “Neither am I. Somebody has to run this from out here.”

Austin didn’t argue. He was an FBI agent, but he was on bereavement leave and had no official role in this operation.

The tactical team moved onto the porch while Austin, Prine, and Nash took cover behind the vehicles. No lights burned inside the farmhouse, and the dark windows reflected the weak morning sky.

The team leader stopped beside the entrance. “Law enforcement! If anyone is inside, come out with your hands visible.”

No response came.