Chapter 39
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
The rain had stopped when Nora finally pulled into the driveway.
Clouds still hung low over the mountains, and water dripped from the trees onto the roof of her car. She turned off the engine but didn’t immediately get out.
She’d called home before leaving the church. Mom had answered and assured her that everyone was fine. Christian was there. Dad was there. Nothing had happened.
Still, Nora had driven faster than she should have.
The underlined lyrics had replayed in her mind throughout the drive home.
They sounded like a warning.
Or an order.
She’d shown Austin and Luke when they returned from the search. Luke had sealed the envelope and hymnal page in an evidence bag, but not before Nora photographed the underlined lyrics.
She’d also told Austin more about her fall last night.
Based on the look on his face, he wasn’t happy about either update.
She’d insisted she’d be fine and that she’d go straight home.
But just as he’d done before, he’d followed her to make sure she got here okay.
When she’d pulled into the driveway, he’d continued on to his motel.
As she climbed out, her ribs protested and her wrist throbbed beneath the elastic bandage.
Voices drifted from the other side of the barn.
Nora stopped.
At first, she couldn’t make out the conversation. Then she heard her mother laugh.
The sound was so unexpected that Nora changed direction.
She followed the voices across the damp grass. A thin ribbon of smoke rose beside the barn, carrying the scent of wet wood and something sweeter.
Was Christian burning something again? Her pulse kicked faster.
She rounded the side of the barn and paused.
A fire burned inside the old stone pit near the tree line. Dad sat in a lawn chair with a paper cup balanced on one knee, and Mom stood beside a folding table. Christian, meanwhile, crouched near the fire, adding a branch to the flames.
The sight stopped Nora.
For one suspended moment, they looked like a family enjoying an ordinary Sunday afternoon.
Dad said something she couldn’t hear, and Mom rolled her eyes. Christian smiled. It wasn’t the guarded half smile he usually gave when he realized someone was watching. It was a real one. The expression made him look younger and more like the boy Nora remembered.
But instead of feeling comforted, her chest tightened.
Everything about the scene in front of her represented what she loved about living in this area. Autumn in the mountains was her favorite season. The changing leaves. The sharp scent of woodsmoke in the air. Apples. Pumpkins. Festivals. Hayrides. Bonfires.
Yet she felt none of that joy right now.
Mom spotted Nora first. “There you are.”
Christian’s smile disappeared as he turned.
It was almost as if he knew about the hymn she’d just received. But there was no way that was possible.
Should she tell him? His name had been on that envelope.
Nora wasn’t sure. And she hated not knowing what to do.
“How was the search?” Dad’s voice broke Nora from her thoughts.
She swallowed hard and tried to keep her composure before answering. “There’s nothing yet. The last teams should be back soon.”
Mom’s shoulders sank. “Poor Shelby.”
Nora crossed toward the fire. A bag of marshmallows and a package of hot dogs sat on the folding table beside a thermos of cider.
“What’s all this?” she asked, trying to keep her voice normal.
“Your father thought Christian should experience one of our old Sunday night bonfires,” Mom said.
Dad lifted his cup. “It was cold enough for a fire. So I picked up some cider and gathered firewood.”
“You also bought marshmallows.” Mom sent him a warm, almost playful look.
Dad chuckled. “What can I say? I can be practical and thoughtful at the same time.”
Christian poked at the burning wood with a long stick. Sparks lifted into the damp air, and the flames lit his face in dancing shadows.
The sight took Nora back to earlier that morning when she found Christian beside the burn barrel. A matchbox in one hand and folded papers in the other.
Papers he hadn’t wanted her to see.
Mom’s gaze settled on Nora. “Would you like something? A hot dog or a drink?”
“No, I’m good. But thank you.”
Her gaze flicked to Nora’s bandaged wrist. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
Her mother’s expression made it clear she didn’t believe her.
“I’ve been sitting at a table most of the afternoon,” Nora added. “But I need to shower and change. Austin and I are leaving for the Dalton concert soon.”
Christian stopped moving the stick.
“The Daltons?” Dad asked.
“They’re singing at New Hope Baptist tonight. Austin’s father called them before he died, and we want to ask them some questions.”
“What kind of questions?” Mom asked.
She hesitated before saying, “About Zander.”
Christian kept his gaze on the flames. “Who’s Zander?”
“A boy who disappeared two years before you did. His family sang on the same circuit we did.”
Mom lowered her cup. “You think the cases are connected?”
“We don’t know.” The answer came automatically, though it felt less true each time Nora gave it. “That’s what we’re trying to determine.”
Christian pushed the branch deeper into the fire.
“Do you remember him?” Nora asked.
“No.”
“You answered that quickly.”
“I don’t know him. How long am I supposed to think about it?” A sharpness edged his words.
Mom gave Nora a warning look. Apparently, a bonfire wasn’t the place for an interrogation. But she hadn’t expected that reaction either.
“I was only asking,” Nora said.
Christian returned his attention to the flames. “I don’t remember most people from back then.”
“I know.”
A moment of silence passed, and the fire popped between them.
Nora stepped closer to the fire and held out her hands, warming them a moment.
“What time will you be back?” Christian finally asked.
“I’m not sure. But I need to get ready.” She turned toward the house before her expression could betray her.
Christian had tried to burn some papers this morning. If he hadn’t successfully been able to do that yet, then she wanted to know what he was trying to hide.
And there was no better time than now to find out.
As Nora stepped away, she felt the weight of Christian’s gaze following her.
Inside, the house seemed unusually quiet after the crackle of the fire and the sound of her parents’ voices.
Nora set her purse on the kitchen counter and stared at the staircase.
She could go upstairs, shower, and leave for the concert without touching anything that belonged to Christian.
That was what she should do.
But too many questions lingered in her mind.
And she needed some answers before she left her parents alone with Christian.
She took the stairs slowly, keeping one hand against the wall when her ribs tightened.
At the top, she paused and listened for the back door opening.
Nothing.
Through the window at the end of the hallway, she saw a thin column of smoke rising behind the barn. Her family remained gathered around the fire, but she had no way of knowing for how long.
This might be her only chance.
Nora’s pulse began beating harder as she approached Christian’s closed bedroom door. Her palm felt damp against the knob.
She was about to violate his privacy. His space. His trust. She was doing something that went against everything she believed about treating people with dignity—and she was doing it in the name of protecting her family.
If her instincts were right, she was justified. If she was wrong, she’d be the woman who searched a traumatized kid’s bedroom without cause.
She prayed she was right. Because if she wasn’t, she’d never forgive herself. And she wasn’t sure God would either.
She opened the door.
The room looked almost exactly as it had before Christian came home. A navy comforter covered the bed. An old dresser stood against one wall, and a bookcase held several books Mom had bought for him.
Two shirts hung over the back of a chair. A pair of shoes sat beside the dresser, and a paperback lay face-down on the nightstand.
Nothing decorated the walls.
Nothing made the room feel permanent.
Nora stepped inside and closed the door most of the way.
Just the papers.
The desk seemed like the logical place to begin.
She checked the desk drawers.
A folder with his school assignments. Pens. A charging cable. Two packs of gum.
Nothing else.
Nora looked at the dresser.
Opening it felt worse.
She did it anyway.
Christian’s clothes had been folded into neat stacks. She checked beneath the shirts and pants.
Nothing.
She closed the drawer.
Relief and frustration collided inside her. Maybe he’d told the truth. Maybe the papers had been assessment pages he didn’t want Mom preserving forever. Maybe he had already thrown them away.
Nora turned toward the door.
Then she noticed the mattress wasn’t sitting squarely on the box spring. One corner jutted out farther than the other, as if someone had lifted it and shoved it back into place in a hurry.
She hesitated, then crossed to the bed. Only when she bent closer did she see the thin edge of something white buried deep in the seam.
She froze.
Only a narrow corner showed. Whatever was hidden there appeared thicker than the assessment pages.
Her heart beat harder as she lifted the comforter. She hooked her fingers beneath the mattress and raised it just enough to pull the object free.
A thick white business envelope.
It was addressed to her mother. The return address belonged to the laboratory handling Christian’s DNA test.