Page 145 of Veil of Silence

Prine stopped the recorder.

The boy looked toward the agent outside his door. “Am I going to jail?”

“When the doctors release you, you’ll be placed in protective custody while we determine your identity and understand what you were forced to do,” Prine said.

“Can I go back with Nora?”

The question settled heavily over the room. Nora’s heart twisted. Part of her wanted to protect this boy. But the other part remembered his betrayal.

What was the right thing to do here? And she didn’t have only herself to think about. She also had her family.

“Cross’s associates know where the Loveless family lives,” Prine said. “Until we understand the threat, returning there wouldn’t be safe for you or them.”

His gaze dropped. “They won’t want me there anyway.”

Nora reached for his uninjured hand. “What you did hurt us. We’re not going to pretend it didn’t. Rebuilding trust will take time.”

His fingers remained limp beneath hers.

“But you were a child when you were taken,” she continued. “God knows who you are, even if you don’t. And we aren’t going to abandon you while you figure it out.”

He looked at her, moisture filling his gaze. “Even after everything I did?”

“We’re going to need time.” Nora closed her fingers around his. “That isn’t the same as leaving.”

Slowly, his hand tightened around hers.

Chapter

Fifty-Nine

Three days after the farmhouse, investigators released Room 214 at Mountain View Motor Lodge.

The door had remained sealed while the sheriff’s department processed it and inventoried anything connected to Austin’s dad’s death.

Now the tape was gone, and Austin needed to retrieve his father’s things. He needed to start planning a funeral.

The motel manager had offered to box up his father’s belongings. Austin had declined. He needed to do this himself.

He needed closure.

His father hadn’t left much behind. Two changes of clothes hung in the closet. Toiletries lined the bathroom counter in the precise order he’d always preferred. A paperback lay face-down beside the bed, its spine bent at the point where he’d stopped reading.

Austin picked it up and found a receipt marking the page.

Coffee. Turkey sandwich. Apple pie.

Dad’s last meal had cost fourteen dollars and eighty-three cents.

That shouldn’t have mattered, yet Austin stood there longer than he intended, staring at the faded print.

His phone rang, and Prine’s name appeared on the screen.

Austin lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. “What did you find?”

“You assume I’m calling with news?”

“You wouldn’t call otherwise.”