Page 63 of Veil of Silence

The envelope and hymnal page lay on the kitchen table.

Austin closed the door behind him and glanced toward the ceiling. “Christian?”

“Upstairs. He went to his room after he saw this.”

Austin approached the table without touching anything. He glanced at the hymn, at the underlined words.

Seen together, they didn’t resemble a church member’s attempt at encouragement. They read like a command intended for someone who already understood it.

It appeared the message had been hand delivered—which was another level of disturbing.

Austin looked through the window above the sink. Darkness hid most of the front yard, and neither the kitchen nor the den offered a clear view of the porch. Whoever had delivered the envelope might have known that—or had been willing to risk approaching the house while her parents were inside.

“Any cameras on the property?” he asked.

“None.” Nora grimaced and rubbed her hands along her arms. “I’ve been meaning to install a doorbell camera. I’m regretting putting it off now.”

“You’re getting one.” He pulled out his phone.

Her eyebrows rose. “That doesn’t sound like a suggestion.”

“It wasn’t.” Austin photographed the envelope and page from several angles before slipping the phone back into his pocket. “How much did you handle the paper?”

“Enough to open the envelope and unfold the page.”

“That should be okay. I’ll call Luke and have someone collect them.” Austin studied the square block letters spelling Christian’s name.

The writing was too careful, as if whoever had written it had been trying not to leave anything of themselves behind.

He lowered his voice before saying, “Tell me what happened when Christian saw it.”

Nora leaned against the counter. “He came downstairs while I was holding it. I told him it was ‘Softly and Tenderly,’ and he went completely still. Then he asked where I’d gotten it.”

“How did he react when you told him?”

“He stepped back. Not far, but enough that I noticed.” Nora glanced toward the stairs. “When I asked whether he’d seen a marked hymnal page like it before, he said no and turned back toward the stairs. He looked scared.”

The denial by itself proved nothing. Christian had spent three weeks evading questions about nearly every part of his life. But recoiling from the page and immediately wanting to escape the conversation was harder to dismiss.

Austin leaned closer to the page without touching it. “What does this hymn mean to your family?”

“My mother hummed old hymns constantly when we were growing up, but that one more than most.” Nora’s expression tightened. “After Christian disappeared, she . . . well, the music in this family kind of disappeared also.”

That made the choice deliberate. Whoever had torn out this particular page either knew the Loveless family well or had learned enough about them to select the one hymn most likely to hurt.

“Who else would know about this song?” Austin asked.

“Anyone who spent much time around us back then. People from church. Other groups on the circuit.” Nora looked at the page again. “Half of Fog Lake probably heard Mom sing it at some point.”

Someone burst into the room, and Nora put her hand flat over the hymnal page before her mother could see it.

She had her phone in one hand and her reading glasses pushed up into her hair. “That was Pauline. Second time tonight.”

“About Preston?”

“The church is organizing a search party for tomorrow.” Ruth set the phone on the counter. “They’ve been on the phone all evening. Nine o’clock in the morning at the fellowship hall, and Doris is providing biscuits and coffee for whoever shows up.”

Nora’s hand stayed where it was. “I thought Luke told them to hold off?”