Page 49 of Veil of Silence

I write his name across the front and stare at it.

He’ll understand.

I seal the envelope and tuck it inside my jacket.

Then I get busy assisting with the cleanup I’d come to help with.

Chapter

Seventeen

Austin waited until he and Nora were near her car before turning toward her. “I’m headed to Southern Heritage Records now.”

Her gaze locked on his. “Let me come with you.”

Austin lowered the phone. “You don’t need to.”

“I know. But I’ve been in their same circles, musically speaking.” She tucked a strand of dark hair behind one ear. “These people know my family, so they’ll be more likely to talk to me than some FBI agent from Baltimore.”

“I’m not going as FBI,” he reminded her. “I’m not officially working this case.”

“It doesn’t matter. You still look like FBI.” She looked him up and down, her gaze skeptical.

Austin glanced down at his jeans and black henley. “What exactly does FBI look like?”

“Like you.”

“That clears it up.” He tilted his head and gave her a wry look.

For the first time since Preston disappeared, a hint of a smile touched her face. Then, just as quickly, the look vanished.

Austin glanced at Shelby’s house again. Amy was inside with her now, and Sheriff Wilder had deputies canvassing the area. There was nothing Nora could do here, not until they had more answers.

And, irritatingly, she probably did have a point. The Southern Gospel world was small.

“And what about your job?”

“My supervisor is covering the rest of my patients today.” Nora crossed to her car, stowed her nursing bag in the trunk, and locked it. “I can come back for my car later.”

She returned, tugging her jacket more securely over her navy scrubs.

He blew out a breath before conceding. “Okay, but if you come, you let me ask the questions.”

Her eyebrows rose. “That defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”

He gave her a look.

“Okay,” she conceded. “I get it. You’re the investigator.”

Austin opened the passenger door of his SUV. “Get in.”

Nora’s smile returned, brief but real. “That sounds like agreement.”

“More like surrender.”

She climbed inside, and Austin rounded the hood. Before getting behind the wheel, he glanced once more at Shelby’s house.

He hoped Luke Wilder was right. He hoped Preston Dawson was with an angry father who’d made a terrible decision and who would come to his senses before the day was over. But his gut told him that wasn’t the case.