Page 95 of Veil of Silence

She set down her pen anyway. “Pauline, does the church still have any of the old red hymnals we used to use ten or more years ago?”

Pauline’s eyebrows rose. “Those ancient things? What on earth are you asking about those for?”

“Mom used to hum ‘Softly and Tenderly’ out of one.” It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the whole truth, either. “I just had a memory of it today.”

“Well, as it happens, I know right where a box of them is.” Pauline set the pot on the table. “I found it myself Friday, in the storage room off the fellowship hall. I thought we’d gotten rid of them years ago. Hold on.”

A few minutes later, she returned carrying a battered red hymnal.

Pauline placed it beside the search log.

Nora stared at the faded cover. Its corners had been worn soft, and several threads showed along the binding.

“What were you doing in the storage room?”

“We’re clearing it out for Homecoming. Pastor Whitfield wants to use some of the old photographs and music for a display.” Pauline smiled. “You know this church. We haven’t thrown away anything since the 1950s.”

Normally, Nora might have laughed.

Instead, she opened the hymnal.

The yellowed pages whispered beneath her fingers as she ran her thumb along the edges. She turned to the index, found the number she wanted, and flipped toward the back.

“Softly and Tenderly.”

Nora’s pulse quickened.

The title appeared in the same faded type she remembered. The notes were arranged across the page in the same way, with the verses printed beneath them. This page remained attached to the binding, but the hymnal was almost certainly the same edition as the page left on her porch.

“Who else was there Friday?” she asked.

Pauline’s brow furrowed. “Oh, several of us were cleaning. Pastor Whitfield was in and out. Dale moved most of the heavier boxes, and Zack Grant helped me sort the old music. A few other regulars were there also.” She paused. “Why?”

Before she could answer, the fellowship hall doors opened. The first search team filed inside.

Nora recognized the answer before anyone spoke. Mud streaked their boots, and disappointment weighed down their shoulders.

No one had found Preston.

She placed the hymnal beneath the edge of her clipboard, intending to show it to Luke as soon as he returned. Then she marked the time beside the team’s grid number and accepted the radio one of the volunteers handed her.

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

Nora looked down at the search log. Every line ended with the same conclusion.

Negative.

She reached for her pen, and pain flared through her wrist. Nearly six hours had passed since her last ibuprofen. She opened her purse and searched the side pocket.

No bottle.

Then she remembered taking it out that morning while sitting in the car. She must have left it in the center console.

Nora told the volunteer beside her where she was going and pushed away from the table.

Cold air hit her as soon as she stepped outside. Clouds had gathered over the mountains, turning the afternoon gray. Search vehicles covered most of the church lot, and the trees beyond them moved restlessly in the wind.