Page 5 of In Her Mind

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words and shared pain. Finally, Mom nodded, a small yet significant concession. Jenna squeezed her mother’s hand, her touch promising action—a promise she intended to keep.

The shrill chirp of Jenna’s cellphone sliced through the moment like a scalpel, its urgency a stark reminder of reality outside the Sunflower Café. She could almost sense the relief that flickered across her mother’s face as Jenna retrieved her phone from the depths of her jacket pocket. The caller ID displayed Jake’s name in bold letters.

“Jenna here,” she answered as she stood up slightly to signal the seriousness of the interruption. Her mother’s gaze followed her every move, wary and expectant.

“Jenna, it’s Jake. I just arrived at headquarters and got a call from Otto Stevens. He says his daughter Amber’s missing. Hesounded pretty shaken up,” Jake reported, his tone laden with a mix of concern and professional detachment.

“Missing?” Jenna’s sharp mind immediately kicked into gear, emerald eyes narrowing as she processed the information. “I’m on my way. I’ll pick you up in ten.”

“Thanks. See you soon,” Jake replied before ending the call.

Jenna’s focus returned to the woman sitting opposite her. Her mother attempted a rueful smile, grasping for humor in an effort to dispel the confrontation. “Saved by the bell, huh?”

“Mom, this isn’t over,” Jenna said, her words clipped and authoritative, reflecting not only her role as sheriff but also her resolve as a daughter. “I do have to go now, but I’ll get back to you soon.” She withdrew a couple of bills from her wallet, enough to cover both of their breakfasts, and laid them on the table. The gesture was swift, decisive—there was no room for negotiation.

Her mother watched silently, lips pursed, as Jenna turned away.

The clink of ceramic and the murmur of other patrons faded into the background as Jenna strode through the café’s door, each step carrying the weight of unfinished business and the promise of a return. She knew the conversation with her mother demanded completion, but duty called, and Sheriff Graves never shirked her duty.

The early morning sun cast long shadows across the pavement as Jenna navigated towards her car, parked just down the street. The air was already heating up, promising another sultry day in Trentville. Jenna’s hand found the warm metal of the car door, and she slid behind the wheel with practiced ease.

As she fired up the engine, her mind raced ahead to the Stevens’s home, anticipating the interviews, the search, the paperwork... the desperate hope that this was all just a misunderstanding. With one last glance toward the café, Jennashifted into gear and drove off, leaving behind the scent of coffee and the echo of a conversation too important to abandon.

As she drove through the mundane tranquility of small-town life, Jenna felt the familiar stirring of her keen intuition. There was nothing ordinary about this day. Last night’s dream was obscure, but the warning was clear—something dark and dangerous lay in wait just ahead.

CHAPTER THREE

When Jenna’s patrol car rolled to a stop before the Genesius County Sheriff’s Office, she saw Jake leaning against a pillar, his uniform neat, his sandy hair bright in the sun’s rays. He hurried to join her, saying as he buckled in, “I just called Amber’s parents again. She’s still missing. Her folks sound scared, but my guess is this is just some false alarm.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Jenna replied. As she drove away from the modest single story brick building that was their headquarters, she was aware how pleasant Trentville could appear on a clear, warm, day like this, with the St. Francois Mountain Range in the background.

“Once we find her, it’s back to the usual grind,” Jake said, grinning. “We’ve got a wild garden gnome theft on our hands again. But we’ll probably find them stashed in somebody’s garage, just like before. Another neighborhood prank.”

“I’m sure you’re right about that one,” Jenna told him, but she couldn’t muster a smile in return. “This thing about Amber Stevens going missing, though—I hope it’s some sort of confusion, but I’m afraid this could be something different,” she admitted, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Jake studied her for a moment before curiosity tipped the scales. “Another dream?” he asked softly.

Jenna nodded, surprised by his response based on the confession she’d so recently made to him. She’d always been careful to guard her secret, the dreams that were more than mere figments of sleep. Now, Jake, along with the retired Sheriff Frank Doyle, both knew about her haunting gift. “Yes,” she said, “another dream.”

During the silence that followed, she wondered—what was he thinking? Did her abilities frighten him, or did they simply add another layer to the intricate puzzle of their workaday lives? Her attraction to Jake complicated matters further, adding a personal stake to the uncertainty. Jenna pushed these thoughts aside, focusing on the road ahead, aware that personal entanglements could not cloud her judgment—not when someone was missing and a life might be at stake. She felt the keen pain of her own missing twin sister.

Jenna kept her eyes on the road as she began, her voice low, “A young woman reached out to me, desperate for help.”

Jake shifted in his seat, turning his gaze towards her. “You think it was Amber Stevens?”

“I really don’t know.” Jenna’s frowned, her mind racing back to the fleeting images from her dream. “Otto Stevens is well known around these parts because of his auto shop. It’s likely I’ve seen Amber before, but I can’t recall her face clearly enough to be sure if she was the one in my dream.”

“I don’t remember her specifically either,” Jake said. “Lots of young people around here these days.”

“Maybe you can get her driver’s license photo. Or something from school.”

For a few moments, Jake busied himself with his phone.

“Here she is,” he said. “Driver’s license. No problems in her record. But I don’t recognize her.”

When Jenna pulled the car to a stop at a stoplight, he held up the phone for her to see. “Is this who you saw in your dream?”

Jenna’s lips pressed into a thin line. The photograph was small and not very good. “Maybe,” she said. “But these dreams aren’t always clear.” She shook her head, unable to explain how these lucid dreams could sometimes seem a bit out-of-focus, and how they felt like memories rather than fabrications of sleep.

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