Page 42 of Veil of Silence

“You remember that?”

“Only because he was standing at that machine.” She pointed toward the copier closest to the front windows. “He’d been muttering at it for five minutes because it kept cutting off the edge of something. Then his phone rang, and he answered it.”

His pulse quickened. “Did you hear what he said?”

“Not much.” Carla gave him a wary look. “Is your dad in some kind of trouble?”

The question hit harder than it should have. “He passed away.”

Her face immediately changed from curiosity to embarrassment. “Oh, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.” Austin cleared his throat. He wasn’t ready for people’s sympathy yet. A week of bereavement leave, and he still had more calls to make than time to make them.

He turned back to the copy shop employee. “Anything you remember could help.”

Carla looked back at the copier, let out a sigh, and frowned. “Your dad got quieter when he answered and walked toward the window. I wasn’t trying to listen, but he said something about meeting somebody.”

Austin leaned closer. “Do you remember exactly what he said?”

“Something like, ‘I can meet you’ or ‘I can be there.’”

“Did he say where? Or mention a name?”

Carla frowned again. “No. But after he ended the call, he packed up pretty fast. He finished whatever page he was copying, paid, and left.”

Austin pictured his dad doing exactly that. A new piece of information arriving and everything else becoming secondary.

“Did he seem upset?” he asked.

“No. More like . . . interested.” Carla hesitated. “He did mutter something about Fog Lake before he left.”

Austin stared at her. “You’re sure?”

“Positive. I love that town. I do some paranormal investigating on the side, and that place is lit.”

Austin ignored the comment.

Instead, he handed Carla his card. “If you remember anything else, call me. Even if it seems stupid.”

She took it and nodded. “I will.”

Outside, Austin stopped beside his SUV and pulled out his phone.

He’d been hoping to hear back from the ME, but so far he had nothing definitive. There was no obvious trauma. Toxicology would take time. Dad’s car was being processed, though Austin didn’t expect much. He’d already left a message with the Renshaws’ record label. No one had called back.

Now, at least, he had something.

Dad had been headed toward Fog Lake.

Austin opened his notes and started typing.

He stared at the screen. Who had called his father? How were they connected with Fog Lake?

Austin was still staring at the list when his phone rang.

Nora Loveless’s name appeared on the screen.

His heart lifted a moment—a reaction that made no sense. He shoved the feeling down, scolding himself for reacting at all.