Page 10 of In Her Sights

“Jenna.” Jake’s voice broke through the quiet, his hand reaching out to rest briefly on her arm, a silent gesture of solidarity. “We’ll find her.”

The affirmation was simple, yet it carried the weight of an unspoken oath shared by two people who had come to understand the fragility of life in their line of duty. Jenna nodded, steeling herself against the encroaching fear, the specter of loss that loomed over Genesius County and, indeed, over her own heart. She exhaled slowly, attempting to quell the rising tide of anxiety. The moment they would have to knock on the Thompsons’ door and deliver news of their missing daughter was just ahead, an inevitable confrontation with fear and despair.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Thompsons’ farmhouse loomed ahead, a silhouette against the dark gray sky. A porch light cast a faint glow on weathered boards that told of harsh winters and relentless summers. After Jenna pulled the car to a stop and shut off the engine, she and Jake got out and made their way up onto the creaky porch.

Jenna rapped firmly on the weather-beaten front door. After a few moments, the door creaked open, revealing a woman whose face showed the hard lines of rural life. Her eyes held a weariness that came from years of looking out onto fields that demanded more than they gave. Strands of gray streaked through her once dark hair, pulled back in a practical bun.

“Mrs. Thompson?” Jenna asked.

“Yes,” the woman replied, her face etched with lines of fatigue, her hair an untamed halo of graying strands around a face that hinted at faded beauty. “I’m Evelyn Thompson.”

“I’m County Sheriff Jenna Graves, and this is Deputy Jake Hawkins. May we come in?” Jenna requested.

Evelyn stood back and gestured toward the hallway, her movements slow.

“What brings you out here at this late hour?” she inquired as they stepped inside. The interior was a time capsule, wallpaper yellowed with age and adorned with patterns of pastoral scenes—an idealized version of the farming life that seemed at odds with the nature of their visit. A television blared from a nearby room.

“Are you Sarah Thompson’s mother?” Jenna asked.

The woman’s expression was a bit wary when she replied, “Yes, I am.”

“Have you heard from your daughter today?”

“Well, no. Why would I?”

Jenna hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Mrs. Thompson,” she began, “we have reason to believe that your daughter, Sarah, has gone missing. She was last seen hiking in Whispering Pines Forest yesterday afternoon and hasn’t been heard from since.”

A flicker of concern crossed Evelyn’s face, her brow furrowing as if trying to decipher a hidden message in Jenna’s words. “Missing?” The mother’s worry was tempered by confusion. “But why come all the way out here to tell me?”

“Because we need to gather any information that might help us find her,” Jake said, his tone gentle.

Evelyn nodded slowly, her eyes clouding over with a distant apprehension, the kind that had settled like dust over the years, undisturbed until now.

“Is… is your husband here?” Jake asked, glancing around as if expecting the farmer to materialize from the shadows.

“Yes, Ralph is right through here.” Evelyn turned and led Jenna and Jake into the adjoining living room.

A threadbare couch sat opposite a bulky, wood-paneled television set, fighting for space among crochet throws and dog-eared magazines. Family photos crowded the available surfaces. Ralph Thompson sat in an oversized armchair, a remote control clutched in one hand like a scepter of sovereignty over his domain. A plaid flannel shirt hung loosely over his lean frame, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with veins like the roots of an old tree.

The glow from the TV flickered across his weathered face, highlighting stark creases made by time and toil. His attention was fixed on the screen, where a game show host conducted his proceedings with exaggerated enthusiasm as contestants shouted and jumped up and down.

“Ralph,” Evelyn’s voice sliced through the tension, “the sheriff and deputy are here. It’s about Sarah.”

Ralph barely glanced at the newcomers. He made no move to mute the volume or acknowledge the possible gravity of the situation that had brought law enforcement to his doorstep.

“Sarah’s gone missing.” Evelyn spoke louder, her voice cutting through the noise to reach her husband.

He scoffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, eyes still locked on the screen as if the fate of his daughter paled in comparison to the outcome of the next question posed by the animated host. “Hardly anything new,” Ralph muttered, the words laced with a bitterness that suggested long-held grievances. “Hope you can find her, though,” he added.

Evelyn sighed, a sound that carried years of frustration, and motioned for Jenna and Jake to follow her to the kitchen. The room was Spartan, functional, with a kettle on the stove that seemed to have served countless cups of tea over decades.

She motioned for them to take a seat at a worn wooden table, its surface marred by generations of use. “I’m sorry about Ralph,” she said, her voice carrying the same weary note as the house itself. “He doesn’t much concern himself with anything… or anyone.”

She gestured as if looking for something to offer them. “I could make tea,” she said uncertainly.

“Thank you, but we won’t be staying long,” Jenna replied. “We just need to fill in some information about your daughter.”

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