Chapter 43
Chapter
Forty-Three
As Nora and Austin pulled into the parking lot of New Hope Baptist Church, she noticed the rain had stopped. Water glistened across the pavement beneath tall lights, and mist hovered among the trees bordering the property.
Nora stared at the church. The building itself was larger than she’d expected, with a tall white steeple rising above a sprawling brick building.
A bus waited near the side entrance.
DALTON FAMILY MINISTRIES had been painted across it in black letters, now faded.
Nora stared at the name.
Christian had loved the tour buses.
He’d wanted to explore each one, convinced that other buses contained something theirs didn’t. Bunk beds. A better refrigerator. A television larger than the one Dad had mounted above the driver’s seat.
Nora pictured him at seven years old, darting across a church parking lot while one of his sisters called him back.
Then she pictured the seventeen-year-old sitting beside the fire at home.
The boy who wasn’t Christian.
A cry lodged in her throat. How would she ever break this news to her family? The truth would hurt them—but she couldn’t keep it from them either.
Austin glanced over at her. “You ready?”
She wasn’t. Not really. But she opened her door anyway. “Let’s go.”
Music drifted from the sanctuary as they entered through the side door. Someone played the piano while a man tested a microphone, his voice echoing through the mostly empty room.
A woman stood in the center aisle listening with one hand pressed against her ear.
She looked to be in her early sixties, with silver threaded through her dark hair. Her gaze shifted toward Nora and Austin as they entered.
Recognition came almost immediately. “Well, I’ll be. Is that you, Nora Loveless?”
Nora stopped in the middle of the aisle and nodded. “Yes.”
The woman crossed the carpet and wrapped both arms around her. The hug caught Nora off guard, but she returned it with her uninjured arm.
The woman drew back and studied Nora’s face. “I haven’t seen you since you were a teenager. Do you remember me? I’m Linda Dalton.”
Memories slowly arranged themselves. Church potlucks. Folding tables covered with CDs. A woman laughing with Nora’s mother while children chased one another between merch tables.
“I remember you,” Nora said.
Linda’s eyes softened. “We heard about Christian coming home. What a miracle.”
The words struck harder than they should have. His homecoming seemed more of a curse than a blessing right now.
Linda didn’t need to know that.
Instead, Nora forced a smile. “Thank you.”
But she was feeling anything but thankful right now.
Austin stepped closer. “Mrs. Dalton, I’m Austin Donnelly. My dad was the FBI agent who contacted you.”
Linda lowered her voice. “I heard about your father. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” Austin slid his hands into his jacket pockets. “I understand he called your family last week.”
“He did.” Linda glanced toward the stage. “My husband spoke with him.”
A pianist played a few bars of a Southern Gospel chorus, then stopped and started again. Two of the Dalton daughters stood near the piano, checking their microphones while another family member adjusted a stand.
The older man stepped down from the platform and crossed toward them. Linda introduced him as Glen Dalton.
Glen shook Austin’s hand. “Your father called Tuesday evening. We had a concert starting, so I only gave him a few minutes. I asked him to call back the next day.” His expression sobered. “He never did.”
Austin had seen that call in his father’s log. Outgoing, Tuesday night, just over four minutes.
Which meant the twenty-two-second call on Wednesday hadn’t come from Glen Dalton.
Austin kept his voice level. “What did he ask you?”
“Whether I knew of any other boys who disappeared while their families were connected to churches or traveling ministries.”
Austin’s pulse quickened. “Had you?”
Glen and Linda exchanged a look.
“After Zander disappeared, I started searching,” Glen said. “Newspaper archives. Missing person databases. Anything I could find.”
“Glen kept it quiet,” Linda added. “Even our children don’t know how much time he’s spent on it.”
“Why the secrecy?” Nora asked.
“Because we can’t prove anything.” Glen glanced toward the sanctuary doors as several church members entered.
“The disappearances happened in different states and under different circumstances. Most of the boys were teenagers classified as runaways. Some traveled with singing families or evangelists. Others were local children who attended churches where traveling groups performed.”
Austin thought of Preston.
“My father believed the cases were connected?” he asked.
“I don’t know what he believed.” Regret tightened Glen’s expression. “He didn’t have time to explain. But he asked the right question.”
“How many missing person cases have you come across? And were any of these boys found?”
“I came across seven or eight cases that might fit. I’m not convinced they all do. And no, none of the boys were found.”
“Did you give the information to the police?”
“More than once.” Frustration captured Glen’s voice. “But these cases were all in different counties, and no one seemed to be talking to each other. I felt like no one was listening.”
Austin understood how easily that could happen.
“Do you still have the information?” he asked.
Glen nodded. “I keep a folder on the bus.”
“You travel with it?” Nora asked.
“I’ve carried it everywhere for twelve years.” His voice roughened slightly. “I keep thinking the next place we visit might give me something new.”
A microphone squealed from the stage. One of the daughters winced and lowered hers while the pianist stopped playing. More people had begun filling the sanctuary, moving into pews and greeting one another.
Glen grimaced. “We’re supposed to start in ten minutes.”
“Can we see the folder first?” Nora asked.
“There’s too much to explain quickly.” Glen looked at Austin. “Stay for the concert. I’ll show you everything afterward.”
Austin wanted the information now. But he could wait.
“We’ll stay,” he said.
Glen squeezed Linda’s shoulder before returning to the stage. The pianist tried the chorus again, and this time the daughters’ voices joined in harmony.
For the first time since his dad’s death, Austin knew one of the questions his father had been chasing.
He only wished he knew how close his dad had come to finding the answer.