Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Prine reviewed the search rules while volunteers pulled on vests and lifted backpacks from the floor. Everyone was to remain inside the assigned grids and with their group. No one should touch anything, enter a structure, or approach an unfamiliar vehicle.
“This search does not mean we’ve reached any conclusion about what happened to Preston Dawson,” she finished. “Every possibility remains open.”
Luke warned them about the uneven terrain and the high water in Mill Creek before handing the microphone to Pastor Whitfield.
Austin bowed his head with everyone else.
“Lord, you know where Preston is,” the pastor began. “Guide our steps today and bring this child home safely to his mother.”
Austin closed his eyes, but the only prayer he could find was Preston’s name.
By the time the pastor said amen, Austin was ready to go.
The fellowship hall doors opened, letting in a rush of air that felt more like November than late September.
Gray clouds had begun gathering above the mountains, and the forecast called for rain by Sunday afternoon.
Deputies called grid numbers as volunteers collected maps, flagging tape, and bottled water.
Grid Seven followed an old logging road toward Mill Creek. Deputy Cross led, with Austin, Nora, Marlowe, and six other volunteers spread in a loose line behind him. Wren and Nash were in a different group.
They moved slowly, searching beneath fallen branches and pushing through stands of mountain laurel.
Leaves concealed rocks, roots, and holes in the uneven ground.
Every scrap of color brought the group to a temporary halt.
A candy wrapper. A strip of faded plastic.
A child’s mitten that appeared to have been there for years.
Nothing belonging to Preston.
As the morning passed, conversation dwindled. The volunteers conserved their breath for the steep terrain and kept their attention on the ground.
Everything inside Austin urged him to move faster. To search farther. But rushing would leave gaps, and straying beyond their assigned grid could disrupt the pattern Prine had established.
Near noon, the group stopped for water while Cross checked their position.
Before anyone could speak, a shout carried through the trees.
“Over here!”
The volunteers went still.
The voice came again, sharper this time. “I found something!”
The shout sent Nora’s pulse racing.
Deputy Cross reached for his radio and started toward the voice.
“That’s Grid Eight.” He looked back at the volunteers. “Everyone stay here. Nora, you know Preston. Come with me in case we need an identification.”
The words made her stomach twist, but she hurried after him.
Austin stepped forward. “I’m coming too.”
Cross nodded. “Stay behind me.”
Nora followed the two men through the trees. They found a group of searchers gathered at the edge of a shallow ravine. One volunteer stood apart from the others, pointing at something caught beneath a fallen branch.
When Cross stepped aside, Nora’s breath caught.
A small blue jacket lay among the leaves.
“Everyone, back up,” Cross ordered.
The volunteer—Dale Meagerman—lifted both hands. “I only saw the sleeve. I didn’t touch anything.”
Cross called in the discovery while Nora stared at the jacket. It appeared small enough for a child Preston’s age. Dirt streaked one sleeve, but the blue material didn’t look faded.
In other words, it hadn’t been there very long.
Austin stopped beside her. “Do you recognize it?”
She searched her memories before shaking her head. “No, not really.”
By the time Prine and Luke arrived with a crime-scene technician, Cross had moved the other searchers away from the ravine. The technician photographed the area before approaching the branch.
Beside Nora, Austin studied the jacket. His attention sharpened.
“What is it?” she murmured.
“Look at the way it’s positioned.”
Most of the jacket lay beneath the fallen branch, with only a few inches of one sleeve exposed.
“It could have fallen that way,” Nora said.
“It could have.” Austin didn’t sound convinced. “But it almost looks . . . like someone placed it there like that.”
Her gaze jerked to his as the meaning of his words hit her. “You mean, like someone wanted us to find it?”
His jaw tightened. “Exactly.”
Prine approached them a few minutes later. “Shelby confirmed that Preston owns a blue windbreaker, but it’s been at Mikey’s house since his last visit. She can’t tell from a picture whether this is the same one.”
Prine radioed for a K-9 team to work outward from the ravine as soon as the technician cleared the area. The jacket was evidence, not proof that Preston had ever been there.
A chill spread across Nora’s skin.
If the jacket belonged to Preston, someone had taken it from Mikey’s house before bringing it here.
Someone who wanted the search to lead back to him.