Page 16 of In Her Mind

“Lisa,” the voice finally replied, taking an unsettlingly calm tone, “we will discuss everything in due time. Please, make yourself as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.” A pause, and then an odd addendum, “I do apologize for the spartan accommodations.”

Amber felt a chill run down her spine. “I’m not Lisa,” she corrected him, an edge of fear sharpening her words. “My name is Amber. Amber Stevens.”

The chuckle that echoed back at her was mirthless. “Ah, I expected you to say your name wasn’t Lisa,” the voice said with eerie nonchalance. “But it’s certainly not Amber. Would you prefer that I call you Nancy?”

Her heart pounded against her chest, anger mingling with dread. This had to be some twisted joke.

“Stop it! What do you want from me?” she snapped back, her throat tight with pent-up frustration.

The response was another chuckle, chilling in its indifference. “We can continue this conversation when you’re ready to be more reasonable.” The footsteps began to retreat, the sound growing fainter until silence reclaimed the cellar.

Left alone once again, Amber’s resolve crumbled for a moment, and she sat in stunned silence, trying to process the exchange. But paralysis was a luxury she couldn’t afford; shaking off the shock, she pushed herself up from the cot. Each step towards the lantern was a study in pain, her ankle protesting with a sharp jolt that shot up her leg.

Gritting her teeth, she hobbled over to the small table where the lamp stood. She picked up the gallon can of kerosene with trembling hands, unscrewing the cap with difficulty. The scent of the fuel was sharp in her nostrils, grounding her to the moment. She poured carefully, ensuring the liquid met the wick without spilling over. Gingerly, she poured the liquid into the lamp, careful not to spill any more than necessary. If this contraption caught fire, she’d have no way to escape from it. That door was bolted shut from the outside.

She got the lamp’s tank filled, then coaxed the wick a little higher. The renewed flame brought with it an unwelcome companion—a sense of foreboding, as if each flicker illuminated not just the cellar, but also the unknown terrors that awaited her beyond its walls.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Centaur’s Den loomed ahead, its rustic facade a familiar sight in the heart of Trentville.

“Let’s hope Robyn can tell us more than the others,” Jake said as they parked and got out of the car.

Jenna nodded in agreement. They’d spent the last hour interviewing three of the people whose names Dr. Reynolds had given them. They’d met with Marcus Flint at Paws and Harmony Rescue, Lila Garner where she worked as a clerk in a greeting card store, and Theo Briggs at the bank where he worked as a teller. None of them had been able to give them hopeful information. Bartender Robyn Holt was the last on their list.

The bar’s wooden sign, featuring a painted centaur hoisting a frothy beer, swayed gently as the door creaked open to admitJenna and Jake. Inside, the bar was a relic of local history, with antiques adorning the walls and a long, polished counter that had felt the elbows of generations.

Methodically making preparations for the upcoming day, Robyn Holt was slicing lemons behind the bar, her auburn hair pulled back into a practical ponytail. Her eyes, a clear gray, flickered up to meet Jenna’s weary gaze.

“Sheriff Graves, Deputy Hawkins,” Robyn called out, a note of surprise in her voice. “What brings you here before opening?”

“We need to ask you about Amber Stevens,” Jenna said, her tone calm.

Robyn’s hands stilled, the knife she held hovering above the cutting board. “Amber? What happened? Please tell me nothing bad has happened to her,” she pleaded, her voice tight with fear.

Jenna shook her head slightly. “We don’t know where she is right now. We’re hoping you can help us understand what might have happened.”

The three of them moved to sit at one of the tables near the window where the afternoon sun filtered through. The bar was quiet, except for the hum of a refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic from Main Street, giving their conversation an eerie privacy.

“Amber hasn’t been seen since she left Paws and Harmony Rescue last night,” Jenna told Robyn, watching her closely.

“You were one of the last to see her,” Jake added. “We’ve already talked with Marcus, Lila, and Theo. Now we need to hear what you have to say about Amber before she disappeared.”

Robyn nodded slowly, her expression grave as she processed the information. She seemed to collect herself, steeling her nerves for the questions to come. Jenna observed the subtle shift in Robyn’s demeanor, recognizing the signs of someone bracing for impact. Her responses were all too familiar—Jenna had seen them many times in the mirror.

Robyn's gaze was fixed somewhere beyond the empty glasses that lined the bar’s shelves.

“Amber stayed until closing,” she said. “She left at the same time as Marcus, Lila, and Theo. I hung back to lock up.” She paused, her brows knitting together briefly. “Nothing unusual happened. We were all just... doing our jobs.”

Jenna nodded, absorbing Robyn’s account while observing the slight tension in her shoulders—the posture of someone trying to remember, searching for a detail that might have slipped by unnoticed.

“Her spirits,” Jake asked, leaning forward with an elbow propped on the table. “How was Amber that night at work?”

Robyn hesitated, then sighed, a faint shrug lifting her shoulders. “I’m not sure what to say. She was just Amber.”

“Was she?” Jenna asked softly, capturing Robyn’s gaze. There was something else there, a layer beneath the surface that Robyn wasn’t talking about.

The young woman’s expression shifted, a flicker of something like discomfort. “Look, we went to high school together, but... since Amber started college over at Ozark, it’s been different. She wasn’t really here anymore, you know? Her heart’s set on other places …” Her words trailed off.

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