Page 71 of Veil of Silence

The boy shook his head.

The man waited until the boy’s throat tightened. “No, sir.”

“Good.” Apparently satisfied, the man stepped away.

Christian didn’t look at the boy again until they were carrying rocks across the clearing. “I told you,” he whispered.

The boy’s eyes burned. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

The rough edge of the rock scraped his palm. “But why does he make us⁠—?”

“Stop asking.”

The boy dropped the rock onto the pile and went back for another. His hands shook now. By the time the last stone had been moved, his shoulders ached so badly he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from crying.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

PRESENT DAY

Saturday morning at seven-thirty, Nora met Wren and Marlowe at The Busy Bean, a coffee shop just off the town square in Fog Lake. The search volunteers were gathering at the church in just over an hour, which gave the sisters enough time to drink some coffee before they joined the others.

Nora needed a quick break from reality, and she had a feeling her sisters did also.

Mason and Christian had stayed back at the house with Mom and Dad. They didn’t need to be present for any of the search efforts—especially after what had happened to them.

The place was crowded, most people inside dressed for a morning in the woods. Hiking boots tracked dirt across the floor, and orange safety vests hung over the backs of several chairs. The scent of coffee and cinnamon rolls filled the air, while an acoustic version of an old country song played beneath the conversations.

Nora talked a moment with Jaxon and Abby Wilder, the owners of the coffee shop. Jaxon was the youngest brother of Luke Wilder, the sheriff, and his wife, Abby, made the tastiest baked goods.

She and her sisters grabbed a corner table. Wren had a caramel latte that looked more like dessert than coffee, Marlowe had ordered something iced despite the chill outside, and Nora had chosen plain coffee because she hadn’t had the energy to make another decision.

Nora had heard through the grapevine that Mikey was still at the hospital. He’d regained consciousness briefly during the night, but he’d been too confused to tell investigators what had happened.

As soon as they sat, Marlowe lowered her voice. “Why are they searching the woods around Preston’s house? If someone took him, he could be anywhere by now.”

“They have to start with the last place he was seen,” Nora said. “The woods, the roads, anywhere he might have gone—or anywhere someone might have taken him.”

“You think he could have wandered off?” Wren wrapped both hands around her cup.

“They have to consider it.” Nora pictured Preston’s shoes beneath his desk and his backpack hanging in the closet. “Six-year-olds don’t always do what makes sense. But they may also find something that shows which direction he went—or how whoever took him got away.”

Marlowe stared through the window toward the square. “I’d rather find out he wandered away.”

“So would I,” Nora said.

For a moment, none of them spoke. People moved along the sidewalk outside, many heading in the direction of the church. A man loaded cases of bottled water into the back of a pickup while two women carried stacks of folded orange vests.

Nora’s gaze returned to Wren. Her sister was smiling faintly at something on her phone.

Marlowe noticed too. “What is that face?”

Wren looked up. “What face?”

“That is absolutely not a nothing face.” Nora gave her sister a pointed look.