Page 9 of In Her Mind

“Did you see anything else?” Jake asked, his voice calm.

“After sundown, he stormed out, got into his pickup, and sped off. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since,” the woman disclosed.

“Thank you,” Jenna said, taking down the woman’s name. As they returned to the patrol car, the pieces fell into place with disturbing clarity. Jason Reeves was now more than just a hot-tempered ex-boyfriend—he was their prime suspect.

“Let’s get the Highway Patrol on this,” Jenna decided, twisting the patrol car’s radio dial to a secure channel. She glanced at Jake, who gave her a curt nod, acknowledging the gravity of their next move. She was soon connected with Colonel Chad Spelling, superintendent of the Missouri Highway Patrol.

“Colonel Spelling,” she announced crisply when his gruff voice answered, “this is Sheriff Graves from Genesius County.”

“Graves?” Spelling replied, “What’s the situation?”

“Sir, we have a missing person—Amber Stevens, nineteen, last seen yesterday evening. Her ex-boyfriend, Jason Reeves, has also disappeared, and his home...” Jenna paused, recalling the scene of chaos they’d witnessed through the window, “...it’s been trashed.”

“Sounds messy,” Spelling replied noncommittally.

“Can we get an APB on both Stevens and Reeves? We also need to start looking for Reeves’s pickup truck, starting with finding out his license plate number.”

“You’re talking about Otto Stevens’s daughter?” Colonel Spelling asked.

“That’s right. And Jason Reeves is a young mechanic who works for him. Her parents noticed her absence this morning after she didn’t come home from work,” Jenna explained.

“So Amber Stevens has only been missing since last night, you say?” Spelling probed, skepticism coloring his words. “You know, Graves, those two aren’t children. I’m not going to drain resources on a case that probably doesn’t even exist.”

“Sir, every minute counts in a missing person’s situation,” Jenna countered.

“Look, you’re running high from nailing that serial killer, and naturally you’re still cranked up about it. But we don’t have all that many big cases here these parts,” Spelling continued, dismissively. “And people just naturally vanish and reappear all the time. You know that at least as well as I do. Amber will probably stroll back any moment now. By the way, you did a great job with that serial killer.”

“Thank you for the kind words, Colonel,” Jenna replied, the words tasting like ash. “But I really don’t think I’m just overreacting.” She didn’t know how to convince him of that. She couldn’t reveal the spectral warnings of her dreams, the reason an unyielding dread clung to her about Amber’s absence.

“There’s Jason’s trashed living room,” she protested. “And he’s gone missing too.”

“Let’s not get hasty. Give it some time,” Spelling advised before ending the call with an abrupt click.

Jenna exchanged a glance with Jake, his face showing concern. She thought that even he seemed unsure now, his steadiness giving way to doubt.

“Jake,” she began, breaking the silence that had befallen them, “I can’t shake this feeling. It’s not just intuition; it’s more than that.”

He nodded, understanding the depth of her conviction, yet unable to offer the tangible support they needed. “What’s our next move? Without Spelling’s help, we’re flying blind.”

Jenna released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “We keep pushing. We follow every lead, every hunch. We owe Amber that much.”

CHAPTER FIVE

The sound of barking dogs greeted Jenna and Jake as they pushed through the front door of Paws and Harmony Rescue. They stepped into a lobby where pictures of happy adopted pets adorned the walls. Volunteers bustled about with a mix of concentration and care.

“Sheriff Graves,” one of the staff said. “Adopting a pet?”

“Not today,” Jenna replied. “Is Dr. Reynolds around?”

She and Jake were directed towards the back where exam rooms lined the corridor. They found Dr. Reynolds, a seasoned veterinarian with salt-and-pepper hair framing her kind face in the middle of a routine check-up. Her steady hands feeling the abdomen of a ginger cat whose eyes squinted in contented trust. She looked up, her expression shifting from professional to personal concern as she recognized Jenna.

“Give me a moment,” Dr. Reynolds said, finishing up with the cat before cleaning her hands and leading Jenna and Jake to her office.

The office was utilitarian but comfortable, shelves lined with veterinary texts and framed certificates of achievement. A large window offered a view of the play area outside, where dogs romped under the watchful eye of volunteers.

When they sat down across from her desk, Dr. Reynolds asked, “How can I help you?”

“I understand that Amber Stevens has been volunteering here,” Jenna began, her voice betraying no emotion.

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