Page 18 of In Her Sights

“Five years, huh?” Frank murmured, his gruff voice cutting through Jenna’s contemplation. “I guess it could’ve been some personal milestone or deadline he set for himself.”

“Maybe…” Jenna conceded, not entirely convinced. “Those words just feel significant, like it’s a clue or a message that I’m missing.”

“Or maybe it’s nothing at all,” Frank added, the lines on his face deepening with concern. “You know, these dreams of yours can be cryptic, to say the least. We’re treading into speculation. And speculation doesn’t bring folks home.”

“True,” Jenna admitted, her voice trailing off uncertainly. But deep down, she sensed this piece of the puzzle was important. Mark’s urgent tone, the repeated phrase…five years.

The dead who spoke to her in dreams could be hard to understand, but they didn’t just show up for no reason. She was sure that when Mark Reeves’s spirit sought her out, it had to be for a reason. She was used to trying to decipher the supernatural elements of her dreams, but this time it felt especially urgent.

Then Frank seemed lost in thought for a long moment. “Jenna,” he began, breaking the silence, “I reckon the timing of all this isn’t lost on you, is it? Twenty years since Piper…” He let the sentence trail off, an unspoken acknowledgment of the disappearance of Jenna’s twin sister.

She felt a familiar tightness grip her chest, the old wound of Piper’s absence opening just a fraction. She nodded slightly, the gratitude for Frank’s remembrance of the date warming her. “Yeah, twenty years ago yesterday,” she confirmed.

“Has Piper… Well, has she ever come to you in your dreams?” Frank asked carefully, his question probing the depths of Jenna’s private torment.

“No,” Jenna replied. “She hasn’t.”

Her eyes clouded over as she contemplated the meaning behind Piper’s continued silence in her subconscious realm. It was a silence that left room for hope—hope that somewhere, somehow, Piper was still out there alive. But she couldn’t besure. There were too many things she didn’t understand about her dreams.

“Until I have evidence to the contrary,” she said, “I’ve got to assume that Piper is still alive.”

Jenna’s gaze drifted to the view outside—a tableau of small-town tranquility so sharply at odds with the turmoil within her. As often happened, her mind was making connections faster than she could voice them clearly. “Do you suppose Mark’s appearance right now might have anything to do with Sarah Thompson’s disappearance?”

Frank’s nod was slow, contemplative. “I guess it might,” he conceded. “But Sarah hasn’t appeared to you in a dream, has she?”

“No, she hasn’t,” Jenna admitted. “And I want to believe that means she’s still out there… still alive.”

“Even if the chances are slim?” Frank asked gently, already knowing the answer.

“Even then.” Jenna’s eyes held a flicker of vulnerability. “Slim chances haven’t stopped me before. They’re not going to stop me now.”

“Of course they won’t,” Frank said, a note of admiration in his voice for the resolve that defined his successor and protégée.

Sure that the man in her dream had told her something more, she leaned forward and put her head in her hands, closing her eyes, trying to remember. Then it was as though she heard again those chilling words that Mark Reeves had spoken with such conviction.

“He said that no one could help him now,” she said.

“Well, I guess not,” Frank said sadly.

“But he did tell me that ‘someone else is in terrible danger.’ And it was then that he said, ‘there isn’t much time.’”

“There’s that word again, ‘time,’” Frank muttered. “Jenna, if you’re going to unravel this mystery about Mark Reeves, you’llneed to dig into his past, anything that can be found out about him. And there’s no one better at uncovering that kind of history than Emily Carson.”

Jenna tilted her head in acknowledgment, the librarian’s reputation for being a human archive of Trentville well known to her. “Yeah, that makes sense,” she mused. “Emily got a mind like a steel trap for details. I’ll pay her a visit right away.”

Rising from the table, she gathered the plates and utensils, her movements efficient and purposeful. She placed the dishes in the sink, her thoughts already on whatever information Emily could potentially provide.

“Thank you again, Frank. For breakfast and for… everything.” She glanced at him, her eyes conveying gratitude deeper than words could express.

“Always here for you, kid,” Frank replied, his gruff voice tinged with concern. “And remember, I’m here if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Jenna promised, stepping outside where her patrol car waited dutifully by the curb. The morning air embraced her with a comforting warmth.

Her hand rested on the door handle of her car, hesitant for just a moment as she allowed herself to feel the full weight of her responsibility—not just as the sheriff, but as a sister still searching for answers. Every fiber of her being told her there was an unseen link between the fates of Mark and Sarah—and for all she could guess, even Piper. Talking to the librarian was now her top priority.

She pulled open the car door and slid behind the wheel. No sooner had she buckled her seat belt than her phone rang, its insistent tone jarring her from her thoughts. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath, glancing at the caller ID. It was Mayor Claire Simmons.

Jenna exhaled slowly before picking up the device. Reluctance gave way to duty as she pressed the answer button, bringing the phone to her ear.

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