Chapter 59
Chapter
Fifty-Nine
The door had remained sealed while the sheriff’s department processed it and inventoried anything connected to Austin’s dad’s death.
Now the tape was gone, and Austin needed to retrieve his father’s things. He needed to start planning a funeral.
The motel manager had offered to box up his father’s belongings. Austin had declined. He needed to do this himself.
He needed closure.
His father hadn’t left much behind. Two changes of clothes hung in the closet. Toiletries lined the bathroom counter in the precise order he’d always preferred. A paperback lay face-down beside the bed, its spine bent at the point where he’d stopped reading.
Austin picked it up and found a receipt marking the page.
Coffee. Turkey sandwich. Apple pie.
Dad’s last meal had cost fourteen dollars and eighty-three cents.
That shouldn’t have mattered, yet Austin stood there longer than he intended, staring at the faded print.
His phone rang, and Prine’s name appeared on the screen.
Austin lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. “What did you find?”
“You assume I’m calling with news?”
“You wouldn’t call otherwise.”
“Fair enough.” Papers shifted on her end. “The medical examiner amended your father’s cause and manner of death this morning. He died from blunt-force trauma to the back of the head. The manner is homicide.”
Austin closed his eyes. He had known from the moment he saw his father lying near that tree. But hearing the word still drove the air from his lungs.
“The fracture wasn’t caused by the fall?”
“No. The angle and depth of the injury aren’t consistent with the rocks where he was found. The examiner believes he was struck before he went down the slope.”
Austin gripped the receipt. “Cross.”
“We recovered an expandable baton from the gray SUV. Preliminary testing identified your father’s blood inside the locking mechanism, and the dimensions correspond with the injury.”
Austin only nodded.
“The number that called your father Wednesday at 11:42 belongs to one of the prepaid phones we recovered from the gray SUV.” Prine paused. “The call lasted twenty-two seconds. That was all Cross needed to get your father to agree to meet him. He probably claimed he had information.”
A lump formed in Austin’s throat. “Is that enough to charge him?”
“It’s strong. Right now, we’re comparing the names with cases connected to the Southern Gospel circuit.”
“What about the money my dad was following? The extra payments and covered expenses tied to certain bookings?”
“We found payment ledgers and copies of old routing sheets. The same COMP notation appears beside several of the bookings. The anonymous money covered hotels, travel expenses, and higher guarantees—but only when certain families followed particular routes.”
Austin tightened his grip on the phone. “Routes that brought them near the farmhouse.”
“The farmhouse was one location. We believe there are others.”
His thoughts continued. “So the money wasn’t intended to help the ministries.”
“No. Someone was paying to put selected families—and their sons—within reach.”
“Do you know who funded it?”
“Not yet,” Prine said. “One of the burner phones Zander left behind contained a message from an unidentified sender: ‘Donnelly knows who you are. Stop him before he talks.’ Thirty-eight minutes later, Zander replied with one word: ‘Handled.’”
Austin stared across the room at his father’s empty chair, and his gut clenched. “Can you identify the sender?”
“Not yet. The number was routed through several prepaid devices. Cross hasn’t spoken since requesting an attorney.”
“The person above him ordered Dad’s murder.”
“That’s our working theory. The messages prove Cross wasn’t acting alone.”
“And the person who got away from the farmhouse?”
“Could be the sender. Could be someone else working for the same organization.” Prine paused. “But whoever helped Cross had access to Fog Lake, the church search, and the Loveless family. We have to assume someone they trust is still involved.”
Austin rose and crossed to the window. The parking lot looked exactly as it had when he arrived days ago. He half expected his father to cross the asphalt carrying coffee, irritated that everyone had made such a fuss.
Instead, Dad’s belongings waited to be packed into a suitcase.
His throat squeezed with emotion. “What happens now?”
“The prosecutor is adding your father’s murder to the charges against Cross. Between the baton, the messages, and the other evidence, he won’t be walking out.”
Cross would go to prison. His father’s death would no longer be dismissed as an unfortunate fall.
It was justice. Austin had expected it to feel more satisfying, however.
“Your father was right,” Prine continued. “He uncovered the connection before the rest of us did. Cross killed him when he discovered your father knew the truth about his real identity.”
“He should have called you first.”
“Yes.”
“He should have called me.”
Prine remained silent.
Austin looked at the receipt crushed in his hand. His father had spent most of his life pursuing answers, often at the expense of everyone waiting for him at home. In the end, that instinct had cost him everything. Dad’s motives were good, but his priorities had been jumbled.
Austin vowed never to be like that.
“I thought you should hear the update from me,” Prine said. “There’s something else you need to consider.”
“What?”
“We’re putting together a multiagency task force to investigate the missing boys and the organization behind their abductions.
It will operate out of Knoxville, at least initially.
We’ll also be reopening some of the older threads that may connect to the network—Roy Callahan and Everett Voss, for starters. ”
Austin turned from the window. “That makes me feel better. What about the Renshaws?”
“They’re still scheduled to sing at Homecoming on October eighteenth,” Prine said. “We’ll be looking into what your father expected to happen that day.”
“Good to know.”
“I’ve requested you for a temporary assignment,” she continued. “You wouldn’t work the investigation into your father’s murder, but you know his files and the history of Christian’s case better than most.”
“My assignment is in Baltimore.”
“Your supervisor is willing to discuss a thirty-day detail. After that, you would need to decide whether to return or pursue a permanent transfer.”
Thirty days in Knoxville would keep Austin close to Fog Lake—and close to Nora.
“When do you need an answer?” he asked.
“Tomorrow.”
“I’ll give you one then.”
After the call ended, Austin placed the receipt inside his father’s paperback and set the book in the suitcase.
He packed the clothes next, followed by the toiletries, and the blood-pressure medication his father had left behind. The task should have taken ten minutes. Instead, each item carried the weight of a decision neither of them would have the chance to revisit.
A knock sounded at the door.
He turned and saw Nora standing there holding two cups of coffee. Her gaze moved from Austin to the open suitcase.
Relief washed through him at the sight of her, but he ignored it.
“I thought I told you I could handle this.” He hadn’t wanted her to see how hard this was for him. She already had enough burdens of her own to carry.
“You did.” She handed him one of the cups. “I decided not to listen.”
“Sounds about right.”
They shared a smile.
Nora glanced around the room.
The motel room felt emptier than it had a few minutes ago.
Austin stood near the window with his coffee, though he hadn’t taken a sip. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know.” She shifted. “I have an update—in case you haven’t heard. Mikey regained consciousness. I ran into Luke, and he told me.”
“I hadn’t heard. Did he say anything?”
“He doesn’t remember much about the attack. But it sounds like the evidence cleared him of any involvement in Preston’s disappearance.”
“Good to know.” He paused before blurting, “Do you think my father’s pursuit was worth the cost?”
She turned fully toward him. “My brother may still be alive because your father refused to give up. So might other boys we don’t know about yet. That doesn’t make losing him fair. But what he did mattered.”
He looked down at the coffee between his hands. “I spent years resenting that case. It always came first, especially after my mother died. Dad kept saying he would be more present once he found Christian, but there was always another lead.”
“And now you’re the one searching.”
“That thought hasn’t escaped me.”
The admission tightened something inside her. Austin had followed his father into the same unanswered questions, and Nora had pulled him even deeper.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“I’m accepting the temporary assignment Prine mentioned. The task force will operate out of Knoxville for at least thirty days. I’ll work the missing-boys investigation, but I’ll be kept separate from the case against Cross for Dad’s murder.”
Relief swept through Nora before she could stop it.
“What about this boy? The fake Christian?” she asked. “I still don’t know what to call him. But either way, what do you think will happen to him? Will they find his family?”
“If someone submitted DNA or there’s enough information to narrow the search, then we’ll make the connection. It may take time.”
“And until then?”
“He’ll remain in protective custody. They’ve found a facility that works with trafficking victims and abducted children.” Austin studied her. “You don’t owe him anything, but I’m sure you could visit if you wanted.”
Nora’s chest ached. “I think I will . . . sometime. I spent ten years wanting my brother back. I’m not going to pretend this boy is Christian, but I can’t forget that someone took this boy from his family too.”
Austin nodded as if the answer didn’t surprise him.
Nora drew in a slow breath. She’d come to help him pack, but that wasn’t the only reason she’d shown up here.
She was tired of letting fear make her choices.
She licked her lips. “There’s something else I need to say.”
Austin’s expression grew guarded. “Okay.”
“On the way to the concert, I told you I couldn’t trust what I felt.”
“I remember.”
The restraint in his voice made Nora wish she could take the words back. But she couldn’t—and perhaps she shouldn’t. They had been true when she’d spoken them.
“I believed Jacob,” she said. “Then I believed that boy was my brother. Finding the DNA report made me question everything I thought I knew.”
Austin set down his coffee. “You had every reason to.”
Nora’s heartbeat climbed. She’d faced a man with a gun and run toward a collapsing bridge, yet saying this frightened her in an entirely different way.
“I was wrong about one thing,” she said. “Being afraid of what I feel doesn’t make it untrue.”
Something shifted in Austin’s face, but caution remained. “What exactly are you saying?”
Nora stepped close enough to rest her hand against his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath her palm. “I’m saying I trust you. Maybe I don’t trust myself as easily as I used to, but I trust what you’ve shown me.”
Faith had never promised that she’d read every person correctly.
Maybe discernment wasn’t certainty. Maybe it was the willingness to keep seeking truth—and to act on it when God finally placed it in front of her.
The silence between her family and the truth had nearly buried them all.
She wasn’t going to build a life on more of it.
“There’s one more thing.” Her fingers curled into his shirt. “When you asked Prine to keep me away from the farmhouse, I was angry.”
Austin didn’t look away. “I know.”
“I was angry because I recognized exactly what you were doing. I’ve spent my whole life deciding what my family could handle. What Mom could hear. What Wren could carry. I called it love.”
He offered a half shrug. “It was love.”
“Some of it. The rest was control.” She pressed her palm flatter against his chest. “I don’t want that from you. And I don’t want to do it to you.”
Austin was quiet a moment before slowly nodding. “I should have asked you instead of asking Prine.”
“Yes, you should have.”
“I’d just lost my dad. The thought of losing you too—” He stopped. “That’s a reason. It isn’t an excuse.”
“Then promise me you won’t decide for me what I can handle.”
“I promise.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “As long as you promise the same.”
“Deal.” She drew a breath. “And I don’t want whatever this is between us to exist only because of this case.”
Austin covered her hand with his. “Neither do I.”
The last of the distance between them disappeared.
Austin touched her cheek, giving her a moment to change her mind.
She leaned closer.
Then he lowered his mouth to hers.
The kiss was gentle at first, shaped by grief, exhaustion, and everything neither of them had been able to say. Then Nora slipped her arms around his neck, and Austin pulled her closer.
For the first time in days, the fear inside her loosened.
It didn’t disappear. Christian was still missing. Someone had ordered Jeff’s murder, and Cross had been only one piece of something much larger.
But Nora no longer felt as if she had to face any of it alone.
When they drew apart, Austin rested his forehead against hers. “Are you sure?”
Nora thought of all the doubts that had followed her through the past few weeks. Some would take time to overcome.
This wasn’t one of them.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m sure.”