Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Austin was beginning to understand why his dad had liked paper so much.
Paper didn’t require a password.
He stood behind the chipped counter of a mom-and-pop copy shop three blocks from the Mountain View Motor Lodge while a woman named Carla studied the photo on his phone.
She looked to be in her late forties, with bleached-blonde hair pulled into a loose knot and bright-pink glasses perched low on her nose. A navy cardigan hung over her copy shop polo, and a pen was tucked behind one ear.
“Yeah.” She nodded at the photo on the screen. “That’s him.”
Austin slipped the phone back into his pocket, his pulse kicking up a notch. “You’re sure?”
“He was here Wednesday morning. Maybe around eleven? Eleven-thirty?” Carla glanced toward the wall clock as if Wednesday’s hands might still be there. “He was here a while. I remember him because his copier kept jamming and he needed help.”
That sounded like his dad.
“What was he copying?” Austin asked, watching her reaction.
Carla shrugged. “I didn’t look.”
Carla was being polite, and they both knew it. “I’m not asking whether you read it. Did you notice what kind of documents they were?”
She considered his question. “Old stuff, I think. Newspaper articles maybe. Some handwritten pages. He brought them in a cardboard box.”
Austin’s attention sharpened. “A banker’s box?”
“Yeah, one of those.”
So Dad had the banker’s box on Wednesday morning. That matched what the housekeeper had told him.
He pressed his hands into the counter. “What did he do with the copies?”
“He put them back in the box.”
Austin glanced at the machines lined against the far wall. “Did anyone come in while he was here? Talk to him?”
“Not that I remember.” Carla started to shake her head then stopped. “Actually, I’m not sure if this means anything or not, but he did get a phone call while he was here.”
“You remember that?”
“Only because he was standing at that machine.” She pointed toward the copier closest to the front windows. “He’d been muttering at it for five minutes because it kept cutting off the edge of something. Then his phone rang, and he answered it.”
His pulse quickened. “Did you hear what he said?”
“Not much.” Carla gave him a wary look. “Is your dad in some kind of trouble?”
The question hit harder than it should have. “He passed away.”
Her face immediately changed from curiosity to embarrassment. “Oh, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” Austin cleared his throat. He wasn’t ready for people’s sympathy yet. A week of bereavement leave, and he still had more calls to make than time to make them.
He turned back to the copy shop employee. “Anything you remember could help.”
Carla looked back at the copier, let out a sigh, and frowned. “Your dad got quieter when he answered and walked toward the window. I wasn’t trying to listen, but he said something about meeting somebody.”
Austin leaned closer. “Do you remember exactly what he said?”
“Something like, ‘I can meet you’ or ‘I can be there.’”
“Did he say where? Or mention a name?”
Carla frowned again. “No. But after he ended the call, he packed up pretty fast. He finished whatever page he was copying, paid, and left.”
Austin pictured his dad doing exactly that. A new piece of information arriving and everything else becoming secondary.
“Did he seem upset?” he asked.
“No. More like . . . interested.” Carla hesitated. “He did mutter something about Fog Lake before he left.”
Austin stared at her. “You’re sure?”
“Positive. I love that town. I do some paranormal investigating on the side, and that place is lit.”
Austin ignored the comment.
Instead, he handed Carla his card. “If you remember anything else, call me. Even if it seems stupid.”
She took it and nodded. “I will.”
Outside, Austin stopped beside his SUV and pulled out his phone.
He’d been hoping to hear back from the ME, but so far he had nothing definitive. There was no obvious trauma. Toxicology would take time. Dad’s car was being processed, though Austin didn’t expect much. He’d already left a message with the Renshaws’ record label. No one had called back.
Now, at least, he had something.
Dad had been headed toward Fog Lake.
Austin opened his notes and started typing.
He stared at the screen. Who had called his father? How were they connected with Fog Lake?
Austin was still staring at the list when his phone rang.
Nora Loveless’s name appeared on the screen.
His heart lifted a moment—a reaction that made no sense. He shoved the feeling down, scolding himself for reacting at all.
Then he shoved the phone to his ear. “Hey.”
“Austin . . . I didn’t know if I should call you or not. But something happened.”
Austin straightened. “What?”
“Preston Dawson is missing. He’s six. His mother is one of my patients.”
Alarm rushed through him. “Missing how?”
“His mother put him to bed last night. This morning his room was empty, and the back door was unlocked. Everybody thinks his father took him.”
“That sounds like something the sheriff’s department needs to handle.” He tried not to jump to conclusions.
“I know. They’re here.”
Austin heard the hesitation. “But?”
“I don’t think his father did this.”
The air left his lungs. “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know yet. Gut instinct maybe.”
He closed his eyes. Was this the reaction of someone who’d lived through their worst nightmare? Did Nora see abductions every time a child went missing?
He wouldn’t blame her if she did. But he needed to take those details into consideration.
He forced himself to be patient. “What do you know?”
She told him everything she’d learned before quietly asking, “Will you come?”
Austin looked at the notes on his phone.
Dad had been headed toward Fog Lake Wednesday. Now a boy was missing there. Was there a connection?
He needed to find out.
“I’m on my way.”
By the time another sheriff’s SUV pulled into the drive, Nora had been standing on Shelby’s porch for at least an hour.
Prine had questioned her first then gone inside to speak with Shelby. Nora had waited while deputies moved between the house, yard, and road, searching for something that might tell them where Preston had gone.
Sheriff Luke Wilder climbed out of the SUV, and some of the tension in her chest eased. Luke was a good man. They went to church together, and she trusted him.
He spoke briefly with one of the deputies near the driveway before heading toward her. His expression was serious, his usual easy manner nowhere in sight.
“Nora.” He nodded toward her as he joined her on the porch.
“Luke.”
His gaze shifted to the front window. “How’s Shelby holding up?”
“About like you’d expect.”
“We’re getting everything moving,” Luke said. “I’ve got people trying to locate Mikey now. He’s not at work or at his house.”
Nora didn’t like the sound of that.
Before Luke could say anything else, her phone vibrated in her hand. She glanced at the screen and winced.
It was her next patient.
She checked the time on her watch and frowned. She was already late.
With everything going on, she’d totally forgotten.
She looked back at Luke. “I’m sorry, but can you excuse me for a minute? I need to call work.”
“Of course. Go ahead.”
Nora stepped off the porch and called the home health office. She told her supervisor what was going on, and her supervisor told Nora to take the rest of the day off. Nora was thankful for such an understanding boss.
She ended the call just as another vehicle turned into the driveway.
Austin.
He parked behind one of the cruisers and climbed out. His gaze swept the yard before settling on Nora.
Something about seeing him brought another small measure of relief—which didn’t make any sense. But Nora didn’t have time to question the feeling right now.
He crossed toward her. “Any news?”
“Not yet.”
Luke hurried down the porch steps, and Nora gestured between them. “Sheriff Luke Wilder, this is Austin Donnelly. His father was the FBI agent who originally worked Christian’s case. He’s also FBI.”
Recognition flickered across Luke’s face. “You’re Jeff Donnelly’s son?”
Austin nodded somberly. “That’s right.”
“I’m sorry about your father. I only heard good things about him.”
“Thank you.”
They shook hands before Luke glanced between them. “I’m guessing Nora filled you in.”
“Enough to know Preston is missing.” Austin slipped his hands into his jacket pockets. “I’m not here in any official capacity.”
Luke gave a short nod. “Good to know.”
Austin pulled his father’s phone from his jacket and handed it to Luke. “This was in Dad’s motel room. I should have turned it over sooner.” He gave Luke the passcode. “His last call came in Wednesday at 11:42. Twenty-two seconds, from a number I couldn’t trace.”
Luke took the phone and nodded. “I’ll get it to the right people.”
Austin folded his arms. “No updates still on Mikey?”
“Not yet.” Luke’s tone was calm, certain.
Nora shifted. “You don’t think . . . ?” The rest of the question lodged in her throat.
Luke’s expression softened. He knew exactly what she meant.
She feared this missing child was connected to what had happened with Christian and Mason.
“Nora, everything we have right now points toward a domestic situation,” Luke said. “Custody problems. An angry ex. A child caught in the middle.”
She swallowed, fighting the emotions waging war inside her.
“There’s nothing here that makes me think this has anything to do with what happened to Christian or Mason,” he finished.
Nora nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Luke’s gaze remained steady on hers. “And if something changes, we change with it. But right now, Mikey is the person we need to find.”
Austin remained quiet beside her, not arguing with Luke’s assessment. She was glad he was here. For some reason, even though she hardly knew him, she found a strange comfort in his presence.
Nora drew in a breath and slowly released it.
Maybe this was just a custody dispute. That would still be terrible, yes. But it would be ordinary terrible.
She could handle ordinary terrible.
At least, she wanted to believe she could.