Page 27 of In Her Mind

As she settled into the seat. Jake slid into the passenger side, his gaze fixed on her profile. “Jenna, you did what needed to be done,” he said firmly. “Tying up loose ends is part of theprocess—no matter how painful it might be. Meanwhile, Colonel Spelling and the Highway Patrol will keep searching. They won’t stop until Amber is found. We’ve set everything in motion that we can for tonight.”

Jenna nodded, drawing a deep breath as she focused on the road ahead. The darkness enveloped them, the streetlights sparce, as they began the drive back to Trentville. Jake’s confidence that the statewide search would yield results offered a slender thread of hope, yet Jenna’s mind echoed with the tormented expressions of Amber’s parents.

As she drove, the road seemed to mirror the expanse of uncertainty that lay ahead. Jenna knew the investigation was far from over, but for now, there was nothing left to do but to wait and hope that the dawn would bring new leads—or at least some measure of peace.

The night had settled over Trentville as Jenna navigated the familiar curves of the road, the headlights of her cruiser slicing through the darkness. Jake sat beside her, a presence she found reassuring.

“For tonight, we’ve done all we can,” he said calmly. “We need to get some rest—come back fresh in the morning.”

Jenna gave a muted nod. Sleep seemed like a distant luxury, yet she knew he was right. She signaled a turn and pulled onto the street leading to Jake’s house.

“Thanks, Jenna,” he added, his tone conveying an understanding of the day’s weight upon her shoulders.

She offered a faint smile. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she replied, her focus returning to the road as Jake exited the vehicle, the sound of the closing door punctuating the end of their conversation.

Alone, Jenna felt the silence envelop her—a thick blanket that allowed her thoughts to drift towards the uneasyanticipation of sleep. She knew that with it could come dreams, ones that held a reality she wasn’t sure she wanted to face.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Amber’s eyelids fluttered open, the hope that it was all a nightmare dissipating instantly with the dull throb in her ankle. She winced as she shifted on the cot, the old wooden frame creaking under her weight. She had tried to keep track of time, counting the seconds and minutes in her head, but despair made a poor timekeeper. She was sure that it must have been a full day now, some twenty-four hours since she’d become a prisoner in this forsaken place.

She had managed to nibble on some chips, the salt stinging her dry lips, and to take small sips of water that tasted like plastic. The meager provisions on that shelf, those half-empty bottles of water and crumpled bags of junk food, were the only things keeping her from complete dehydration and starvation. She had conserved as much as possible, acutely aware that every bite and swallow might need to last an unknown stretch of time.

The light from the kerosene lantern flickered, casting erratic shadows across barren shelves. Its brightness was dwindling again, mirroring her own sense of hope. She knew she should get up and tend to the flame before it died out completely, leaving her in darkness. But her body felt heavy, leaden with dejection. And when Amber attempted to move, pain shot up her leg from her sprained ankle, anchoring her back to the cot. A sigh escaped her lips, not just for the physical hurt, but for the ache of realizing she was well and truly trapped.

Images of her own life – her family, her friends, the animals she cared for – flashed before her eyes, each image a reminder of everything she stood to lose. She wondered if anyone was looking for her. Trentville was small; someone should have noticed her absence by now. But what if no one was looking? What if her disappearance had slipped through the cracks of daily life?

No doubt Dr. Reynolds would be covering her shift at Paws and Harmony Rescue. Guilt, irrational yet sharp, jabbed at her conscience. She knew it was ludicrous to feel responsible for abandoning responsibilities when she herself had been taken against her will. But rationality had little place here in this flickering light.

She pictured Liam, with his earnest eyes and the soft way he’d say her name, like it was a secret only they shared. How he must be worried, pacing the length of his dorm room, unable to concentrate on the biological diagrams that usually captivated him.

And then there was Jason, whose image brought an involuntary shiver despite the room’s chill. His hands, once familiar and comforting, now seemed foreign, belonging to a past life she had willingly left behind.

Would her absence forge a truce between the Jason and Liam, uniting them in a cause greater than their own needs, desires, and jealousies? Would they both be searching for her? Would they have enlisted others?

The lantern sputtered, reminding her of its dwindling life, she forced herself to focus on practical matters. She mustered the strength to hobble over and tend to it, knowing that the darkness would only amplify her fears. She reached for the kerosene can, the metallic scent filling her nostrils as she poured the liquid with painstaking care. She fumbled to raise the wick higher, coaxing a steadier flame from the lantern.

Collapsing back onto the cot, Amber closed her eyes, trying to shut out the world and the crushing reality of her captivity. She lay there, a captive not only of the root cellar but of her spiraling thoughts and mounting dread.

The memory of her last conversation with Jason made her wince. His voice, once so familiar and warm, had turned cold as he processed her engagement to another man. She could still hear the crack in his tone when she’d told him about Liam, the raw edge of betrayal that she never intended to inflict. Would he care enough to raise the alarm for her, or would his anger cloud his concern?

Her thoughts shifted to her father, the confrontation in Otto’s Auto Repair shop replaying in her mind. His words had cut deeper than she would have admitted, branding her choices as mistakes. “A bad investment,” he had called her, his disappointment sharp as shattered glass. Could he look past his own hurt to realize she was missing? Or had she become just another failed project to him, easily dismissed and forgotten? Was her mother angry enough to simply follow her husband’s lead?

Amber’s heart ached at the thought, the weight of their judgments heavier than the stones that entombed her. The air in the cellar felt thick, suffocating, as if every breath was laced with the dust of crushed dreams. She pulled the thin blanket tighter around her shoulders, seeking warmth where there was none to be found. The idea of rescue seemed more like a mirage now, a cruel trick played by her desperate mind.

She sank back onto the cot, her mind a battleground between reason and paranoia. As much as she tried to dismiss the idea, part of her couldn’t help but wonder if she had violated some unspoken rule by daring to dream beyond the confines of her old life. Perhaps small-town expectations had roots deeper than she’d ever imagined, entangling her in a web of duty andtradition she hadn’t seen until now. Was it wrong to want more than the life laid out before her in Trentville?

Could the rage she had ignited in Jason and her father have set this sinister sequence into motion? She scolded herself for even entertaining the notion. It was ludicrous to believe that their anger could translate into such a cruel fate. She missed them both, despite everything. And Liam—her beacon of hope for a different life—how could love for him be a mistake? The very thought felt like a betrayal of their plans, their shared dreams.

Clarity began to seep through the cracks of her despair. No, the fault lay not with her, but with the madman who saw her as someone else, someone named Lisa.

“Stop it,” she whispered fiercely to herself, fighting to suppress the tears that threatened to spill.

Her heart knew the truth—she wasn’t responsible for the twisted delusions of her captor. Jason, with his mechanic’s hands stained with grease, and her father, whose stern demeanor masked a lifetime of sacrifice, were far removed from this nightmare. Neither Jason nor her father were men capable of such atrocity. They were just hurt, not monsters. In the oppressive darkness of her confinement, fear had a way of distorting every thought.

Amber’s senses sharpened to the subtle sounds filtering through the heavy wooden door of her confinement. The rustling of leaves, an owl’s distant hoot—they were life’s whispers from the world outside. Her heart clung to these slender threads of hope as she lay there, entombed in a purgatory of earth and timber. Then, breaking into the night’s chorus, came the unmistakable crunch of footsteps on the dry earth, growing steadily louder.

A spark of hope ignited within her chest; perhaps this was the moment of her deliverance. But as quickly as it had flared,the hope extinguished when the hoarse, semi-whispering voice slipped through the cracks of that door.

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