Page 86 of Veil of Silence

Austin clicked on one dated a few months before Christian disappeared.

The video was grainy and slightly crooked. Three girls stood beneath the lights of a small church stage, each holding a microphone. Wren stood on one side, Marlowe on the other, and Nora in the middle.

Then they began to sing.

Austin leaned back.

Roscoe hadn’t exaggerated. They were good. Their voices blended so closely that he couldn’t distinguish one from another until Nora sang a verse alone.

Her voice was clear and strong—nothing hesitant or guarded about it.

Near the end of the song, a small boy wandered into the edge of the frame carrying a guitar nearly as large as he was. Nora glanced toward him and smiled without missing a note.

Christian.

The boy disappeared backstage a moment later, but the sight of him tightened something in Austin’s chest. His father had spent ten years searching for that child. The Loveless family had spent those same years trying to understand how someone could vanish from the middle of a crowded celebration.

Austin let the next song play.

He told himself he was learning more about the Southern Gospel world his father had been investigating. About the groups, churches and audiences that might connect the missing boys.

But when the camera returned to Nora, he knew that wasn’t the only reason he was still watching.

Austin picked up his phone and found Nora’s contact information. It was already after ten. Too late to call, especially after the night she’d had.

He sent her the link to the Daltons instead.

The Daltons are still traveling.

Austin added the concert information in a second message.

They’re singing about an hour from here tomorrow night. We should go and talk to them. Thoughts?

He set the phone beside the laptop and waited, surprised at himself for wanting Nora to go with him.

It was only because she had connections in the Southern Gospel world, he told himself.

But if he were honest, he’d admit it was more than that.

Nora woke in the middle of the night to a sound she couldn’t place.

She lay still beneath the covers, eyes open but unable to see anything beyond the darkness. For several seconds, she wasn’t sure whether the noise had been real or part of a dream.

The house had gone quiet hours ago. Dad was asleep on the couch. Mom was in her room across the hall, and Christian’s door had been closed the last time Nora checked.

She reached for her phone on the nightstand. The screen lit her bedroom in a pale glow.

It read 2:07 a.m.

Nora had slept less than two hours.

She lowered the phone and listened. The refrigerator hummed downstairs, and wind brushed a branch against the side of the house. Otherwise, nothing moved.

Her eyes drifted closed.

Then a soft thud came from somewhere beyond her bedroom.

Nora pushed back the covers and sat up. Exhaustion pulled at her, making her head feel too heavy for her neck.