Chapter 33
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Austin opened his laptop and pulled up the photographs he’d taken of his father’s notes. One page contained a list of names connected to the Southern Gospel circuit.
The Renshaws.
The Loveless Sisters.
The Daltons.
Roscoe had said the Dalton family’s oldest son disappeared a year or two before Christian. Most people believed the teenager had run away.
Apparently, Austin’s father hadn’t.
He searched for the family.
The website for Dalton Family Ministries appeared near the top of the results.
The photograph on the home page had been taken recently. The parents were older now, and the children standing beside them were adults. They all smiled beneath stage lights with microphones in their hands.
Near the bottom of the page, beneath the family biography, a photograph showed a teenage boy with short brown hair and a serious smile.
HELP US FIND ZANDER
Our son and brother, Zander Dalton, disappeared in 2014 following a church appearance. He was seventeen years old. Our family continues to pray for his safe return. Anyone with information is asked to contact the authorities.
A final line appeared beneath it.
Zander, if you see this, we love you. We miss you. We have never stopped looking.
Something about the words made a knot form in Austin’s throat.
Even with the differences between him and his father, the two of them had still loved each other. His dad knew that, right? He’d known before he died that his son loved him?
Austin’s eyes burned.
This was no time to cry. He had too much work to do.
He searched Zander’s name. A few old articles appeared, most repeating the same basic facts. Seventeen years old. Last seen after a church appearance. Believed to be a runaway.
But Zander’s family had never accepted that explanation.
Neither had Austin’s father.
Returning to the Dalton website, Austin clicked on their upcoming performance schedule. Most of the dates were at venues several hours away. He scanned them anyway, searching for one within reach.
His breath caught when he saw one date in particular.
Tomorrow.
The family was scheduled to sing Sunday evening at a church a little more than an hour from Fog Lake.
The timing couldn’t be any better.
Austin stared at the screen.
Zander had disappeared two years before Christian. Both boys had traveled the Southern Gospel circuit. Both of their families appeared in Roscoe’s old calendars. And shortly before his death, Austin’s father had been asking questions about them.
That couldn’t be dismissed as coincidence.
He set the phone beside his laptop and waited.
After a moment, Austin opened another search window and typed in The Loveless Sisters Homecoming.
The album appeared on several streaming services. Someone had also uploaded the entire project to YouTube, along with several live performances recorded at churches throughout the Southeast.
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.
She waited for another sound, hoping Dad had knocked something from the coffee table or Mom had gotten up for water.
Then a floorboard creaked in the hallway.
Christian.
The thought pulled her fully awake.
He’d walked out of the house the previous night without knowing what he was doing. If Nora ignored the noise and he made it downstairs again, he might reach the woods before anyone realized he was gone. Then her family would be thrown into turmoil again.
She slipped from the bed and opened her door.
The hallway was dark except for a faint glow rising from the living room below. Dad must have left a lamp on. The light barely reached the second floor, leaving most of the hallway in shadow.
Christian’s door stood a few feet away. From where she stood, it appeared to still be closed.
She stepped into the hallway. The floor felt cold beneath her bare feet, and her tired eyes struggled to separate the shadows from the walls.
Another sound came from somewhere in the house. A scrape this time, followed by something that might have been a footstep.
Nora moved toward the staircase.
At the top, she rested one hand on the railing and looked down. The lamp near the couch cast a weak circle of light across the living room floor. She could see the edge of the quilt covering Dad, but nothing else appeared out of place.
Maybe he’d shifted in his sleep.
Nora leaned forward, trying to see the bottom of the stairs. Her weight shifted over the top step, and she tightened her hold on the railing.
As she did, a floorboard creaked behind her.
She started to turn.
Before she could, something pressed between her shoulder blades.
It wasn’t hard. Barely more than a nudge.
But Nora was already off balance.
Her hand slipped from the railing, and the top step disappeared beneath her foot.
For one suspended second, she reached for something that wasn’t there.
Then her balance gave way, and she pitched forward into the stairwell.