Page 146 of Veil of Silence

“Fair enough.” Papers shifted on her end. “The medical examiner amended your father’s cause and manner of death this morning. He died from blunt-force trauma to the back of the head. The manner is homicide.”

Austin closed his eyes. He had known from the moment he saw his father lying near that tree. But hearing the word still drove the air from his lungs.

“The fracture wasn’t caused by the fall?”

“No. The angle and depth of the injury aren’t consistent with the rocks where he was found. The examiner believes he was struck before he went down the slope.”

Austin gripped the receipt. “Cross.”

“We recovered an expandable baton from the gray SUV. Preliminary testing identified your father’s blood inside the locking mechanism, and the dimensions correspond with the injury.”

Austin only nodded.

“The number that called your father Wednesday at 11:42 belongs to one of the prepaid phones we recovered from the gray SUV.” Prine paused. “The call lasted twenty-two seconds. That was all Cross needed to get your father to agree to meet him. He probably claimed he had information.”

A lump formed in Austin’s throat. “Is that enough to charge him?”

“It’s strong. Right now, we’re comparing the names with cases connected to the Southern Gospel circuit.”

“What about the money my dad was following? The extra payments and covered expenses tied to certain bookings?”

“We found payment ledgers and copies of old routing sheets. The same COMP notation appears beside several of the bookings. The anonymous money covered hotels, travel expenses, and higher guarantees—but only when certain families followed particular routes.”

Austin tightened his grip on the phone. “Routes that brought them near the farmhouse.”

“The farmhouse was one location. We believe there are others.”

His thoughts continued. “So the money wasn’t intended to help the ministries.”

“No. Someone was paying to put selected families—and their sons—within reach.”

“Do you know who funded it?”

“Not yet,” Prine said. “One of the burner phones Zander left behind contained a message from an unidentified sender: ‘Donnelly knows who you are. Stop him before he talks.’ Thirty-eight minutes later, Zander replied with one word: ‘Handled.’”

Austin stared across the room at his father’s empty chair, and his gut clenched. “Can you identify the sender?”

“Not yet. The number was routed through several prepaid devices. Cross hasn’t spoken since requesting an attorney.”

“The person above him ordered Dad’s murder.”

“That’s our working theory. The messages prove Cross wasn’t acting alone.”

“And the person who got away from the farmhouse?”

“Could be the sender. Could be someone else working for the same organization.” Prine paused. “But whoever helped Cross had access to Fog Lake, the church search, and the Loveless family. We have to assume someone they trust is still involved.”

Austin rose and crossed to the window. The parking lot looked exactly as it had when he arrived days ago. He half expected his father to cross the asphalt carrying coffee, irritated that everyone had made such a fuss.

Instead, Dad’s belongings waited to be packed into a suitcase.

His throat squeezed with emotion. “What happens now?”

“The prosecutor is adding your father’s murder to the charges against Cross. Between the baton, the messages, and the other evidence, he won’t be walking out.”

Cross would go to prison. His father’s death would no longer be dismissed as an unfortunate fall.

It was justice. Austin had expected it to feel more satisfying, however.