Chapter 35
Chapter
Thirty-Five
Nora woke Sunday morning feeling as if someone had beaten her with a baseball bat.
Her ribs hurt every time she moved, and her wrist had swollen enough that she couldn’t close her fingers completely. She’d wrapped it with an elastic bandage, taken two ibuprofen, and convinced herself that she’d been right about not needing the emergency room.
A gray morning light filled the kitchen. It was barely seven, and the house remained quiet. Dad was asleep on the couch, while Mom and Christian were still upstairs.
In a few hours, they would go to church. Afterward, the search teams would return to the woods and pick up their efforts from yesterday.
But Preston had already spent another night missing.
Nora poured herself a cup of coffee and stared through the window. She tried not to imagine where Preston might be right now. Maybe today would be different. Maybe someone would finally find the clue that brought Preston home. She prayed that was the case.
Movement in the backyard caught her attention.
A figure in a dark sweatshirt stood beside the burn barrel, partially obscured by the lingering morning haze. As he shifted, Nora realized it was . . . Christian. He wasn’t upstairs sleeping after all. But why was he outside?
She stood and crept closer to the window. What was he doing?
He had some papers clutched in one hand. In the other, he held what appeared to be a box of matches.
Nora’s uneasiness returned.
She slipped some shoes on and stepped out the back door. Cold air tightened around her ribs as she crossed the damp grass.
Christian didn’t hear her at first. He slid open the matchbox and removed one.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He spun around, and the match fell from his fingers into the grass. For a moment, he stared at Nora as if he couldn’t decide whether to reach for it.
Then he closed the box. “Nothing.”
“You’re standing beside a burn barrel with a box of matches. I’d say that was something.”
His gaze dropped to the papers. He folded them again, making the bundle smaller. “I just wanted to get rid of some stuff.”
Her suspicions continued to rise. “What stuff?”
“Old papers.”
Nora stopped several feet away. The ground around the barrel was wet from morning dew, and water had collected along the rusted rim. Nothing inside appeared to be burning—not yet.
She continued to study his face. “What kind of papers?”
“From the school assessment.” Christian shrugged, but his shoulders remained stiff. “I don’t need them.”
“Then why not put them in the trash?”
“I didn’t want Mom finding them.”
“Why not?”
“Because she keeps everything.” A hint of frustration entered his voice. “She saves grocery lists if she thinks I wrote on them.”
That part was true. Their mother had already tucked Christian’s first completed assessment page into a kitchen drawer as if it belonged in a scrapbook.
But Christian could have torn the papers up. He could have put them beneath other trash. Instead, he’d brought them to a burn barrel early in the morning before most people were awake.
Nora nodded toward the bundle. “Can I see them?”
His fingers tightened around the papers.
Before he could answer, the back door opened.
“There you are.” Mom stepped onto the porch and pulled her sweater closed against the cold. “What are you two doing out there?”
Nora drew in a deep breath before saying, “Just talking.”
Christian’s gaze snapped toward her.
She wasn’t sure why she’d covered for him. Maybe because she still couldn’t say for certain what had happened on the stairs last night. She remembered losing her balance.
Or had she felt a hand against her back?
Then she remembered Christian standing at the top of the stairs.
The full memories remained frustratingly out of reach. But if she confronted him in front of Mom, Christian would deny everything—and Nora might never get another chance to learn the truth. And if she was wrong, the consequences could be long-reaching.
“Come inside,” Mom said. “We need to eat before church.”
Christian slipped the matches into one pocket and tucked the folded sheets beneath his sweatshirt. “I need to get dressed.”
He walked toward the house before Nora could stop him.
She followed more slowly, one arm pressed against her aching ribs.
Whatever Christian had intended to burn, he clearly didn’t want her to see it.
And now Nora had one more reason to wonder what he was hiding.
Austin arrived at church twenty minutes before the service began and found the parking lot already half full.
He’d told himself he was here because the search teams were meeting afterward. That was only part of the truth. He attended church most Sundays in Baltimore, though work had made it easy to become inconsistent.
This morning, he had almost stayed at the motel. Then he’d remembered one of his mother’s favorite verses.
The Lord is near to the brokenhearted.
Austin believed that. He simply wished God didn’t feel so far away right now.
He spotted Nora near the side entrance with her family. Christian stood between his parents, wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt. His attention moved over the parking lot, never settling anywhere for long. He was clearly nervous, and Austin couldn’t blame him.
Was this his first real public appearance since he’d returned? That couldn’t be easy for him—or his family. But it had to happen eventually, he supposed.
He glanced at Nora again. She wore a navy dress beneath her coat. Her right wrist was wrapped, and she held that arm close to her body.
Worry pulsed through him.
Austin stepped closer. “What happened to you?”
She looked down at the bandage as if she’d forgotten it was there. “Good morning to you too.”
“Nora.” He let his head fall to the side.
She sighed before saying, “I fell down the stairs last night.”
He sucked in a breath. “How badly are you hurt?”
“My wrist is sprained, and my ribs might be bruised.”
“Might be?”
She shrugged almost as if exhausted. “I didn’t go to the hospital.”
Austin stared at her. “Of course, you didn’t.”
She shrugged again.
Austin lowered his voice. “How did you fall?”
For a moment, her gaze shifted toward Christian. The movement was slight, but Austin caught it.
“I thought I heard something and leaned too far over the stairs to look. I lost my balance.”
But Austin’s thoughts remained on the glance Nora had given Christian.
Her expression suggested she wasn’t certain that was all that had happened.
Before Austin could ask anything else, someone called Nora’s name.
Zack Grant crossed the parking lot toward them, a Bible tucked beneath one arm. “I finished most of Christian’s assessment notes. I’ll call you tomorrow so we can talk about the options.”
“Thank you.”
His expression sobered. “I keep thinking about Preston.”
Austin’s attention sharpened. “You know him?”
“I tutored him in reading last spring. Twice a week through the school district. Most of the sessions were at school, but sometimes we met here if Shelby was already coming for prayer meeting.”
“Was he struggling?” Nora asked.
“Mostly with comprehension. He was making progress.” Zack glanced toward the sanctuary. “I saw him at church on Wednesday night, and he seemed like his usual self. He showed me one of his cars and talked my ear off for five minutes.”
“Did he say anything about his father?” Austin asked.
Zack hesitated. “Not that night. But he’d mentioned him before.”
“What did he say?”
“Only that he’d been seeing his dad more often and his mom wasn’t happy about it.” Zack looked toward the church as the bell began to ring. “I wish I knew something that could help.”
“So do we,” Nora said.
Zack excused himself and headed inside.
Austin watched him go. “He had regular access to Preston.”
“He works with children. Access is part of his job.”
“And he assessed Christian.”
Nora looked at him. “You think that means something?”
“I think it means he knew both boys. Right now, that’s worth remembering.”
But Austin’s thoughts returned to the glance Nora had given Christian.
She might have lost her balance.
But there was something she wasn’t telling him.