Page 20 of In Her Sights

“Abandoning one’s car in the middle of Whispering Pines doesn’t exactly scream voluntary departure,” Jenna replied, keeping her tone measured despite her rising impatience. “It’s dubious at best, Mayor.”

The edges of Simmons’s mouth drew down in displeasure. “You’ve brought too much attention to Trentville, Sheriff,” she said curtly. “Headlines should be about bake sales and charity drives, not stirring up fear over an incident that’s likely a simple case of cold feet.”

“Sarah Thompson deserves our thorough investigation,” Jenna countered, feeling the pressure to maintain decorum in the increasingly tense office.

“Enough,” snapped Mayor Simmons, her hand slicing through the air like a blade. “Dial things back, Jenna. I won’t have this town thrown into chaos over your hunches.”

“Dial things back?” she echoed, incredulity sharpening her tone. “I don’t even know what that means. And with all due respect, Claire, you can’t order me what to do or not to do.”

“I wonder,” Simmons said, her eyes narrowing with precision, “if your overreaction isn’t just about Sarah Thompson. It’s been twenty years, Jenna. Are you sure you’re not letting your sister’s disappearance cloud your judgment now?”

Jenna went completely still, feeling the blood leave her face.

“Mayor,” Jenna said, enunciating each syllable, “Piper’s case has no bearing on how I conduct my investigations. And SarahThompson’s disappearance deserves more than speculation and dismissive assumptions.”

“Of course,” the mayor said, her voice dripping with condescension. She steepled her fingers and regarded Jenna over the rims of her glasses. “But you must understand, Sheriff Graves, that your… emotional involvement could be seen as compromising your professional judgment.”

“Mayor Simmons,” Jenna said, her tone measured but ice cold, “I assure you my judgment is not clouded by the past. My concern for Sarah’s well-being is based on facts and evidence. And I need to go now to follow up on that investigation.”

Simmons sighed, a practiced sound of disappointment. “If you continue to pursue this case with such fervor, there will be repercussions, Jenna. I hope you realize that. I am not without influence …”

“I’m here to protect our community, not to play politics or manage appearances,” Jenna snapped, her voice devoid of fear. “If that means facing consequences, then that’s fine with me. And don’t forget, I’m an elected official. You’re not my boss. The people of Trentville are.”

Without waiting for a response, Jenna turned on her heel and strode out of the office.

As she stepped back into the sunlight, Jenna’s mind shifted gears, leaving behind the suffocating atmosphere of the office. She wasn’t going to be derailed by threats or personal attacks—not when lives might hang in the balance.

With each step toward her patrol car, Jenna cast off the weight of Simmons’s words, focusing instead on the path ahead. It led to the library, to Emily Carson, and to the possible answers she might help uncover.

Jenna’s hand gripped the door handle, the metal cool and yielding beneath her touch. The encounter with Mayor Claire Simmons left a bitter aftertaste, but as she slid behind the wheel,the tang of confrontation began to fade, replaced by a gnawing sense of urgency.

She couldn’t deny that there was at least a little truth to the mayor’s assertion that Piper’s absence was on her mind. It was a constant undertow in Jenna’s existence, tugging at her decisions, coloring her perceptions, especially on a day like today. Yet now, as she considered the case of Sarah Thompson, Jenna couldn’t shake the feeling that this coloration wasn’t just a distortion—it was an illumination.

It was true that Piper’s vanishing had affected her work. It had honed Jenna’s instincts, sharpened her intuition. It made her look closer, question deeper, and fight harder. And if those same instincts were telling her that Sarah’s disappearance was more than it seemed, then she owed it to both women to pursue every possible lead.

The engine of the patrol car hummed to life, a familiar vibration that grounded her resolve. With a turn of the steering wheel, Jenna backed out of the parking space and out of the lot, her focus narrowing on the road ahead. There was no time to waste. The margins of the investigation were closing in, the leads and hunches weaving a web that might ensnare a truth long buried.

The drive was short, yet each second seemed to stretch, laden with the gravity of what might lie ahead. The library loomed in the distance, its quiet facade belying the secrets it housed. Jenna’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, a silent vow etched into the motion. She would find the answers, for Sarah, for Mark Reeves, and for a twin sister whose voice still echoed in her soul.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jenna eased her patrol car into a spot opposite the Trentville Public Library, its familiar red-brick facade a piece of Trentville history standing in the late-morning sun. The building’s dignified architecture, with its white-trimmed windows and the modest plaque by the door commemorating its founding year, had always been a sanctuary for Jenna. As a child, she had escaped here to the world of books. That need had increased after Piper’s disappearance when she was sixteen. During all those years, the same librarian, Emily Carson, had been both an anchor and a supporter of her intellectual curiosity.

She pushed open the door, the sudden coolness of air-conditioned silence enveloping her. A few patrons were scattered among the shelves, their low murmurs and the soft rustle of turning pages the only sounds in the near-empty space. Emily Carson stood behind the circulation desk, her silver hair pulled back in a stern bun. Her sturdy frame was slightly bent as she attended to the only patron at the checkout counter—a young boy clutching a stack of adventure novels. Jenna lingered, observing how Emily’s stern expression softened as she placed the books into his eager hands. With the transaction complete, the boy scampered away.

Emily looked up to see if anyone else needed help. “Jenna, it’s good to see you,” she said very softly. “What brings you here today?”

“Work, I’m afraid,” Jenna replied, her tone apologetic. “Can we talk in your office?”

“Of course,” Emily said, gesturing for Jenna to follow.

They wound through the narrow corridors flanked by towering bookshelves until they reached a small, unassuming door marked “Private.” Inside, the office was a reflectionof Emily herself—organized and functional amid the room’s orderly chaos of books and papers.

As soon as they sat down, Emily asked, “Is there any word on Sarah Thompson? I heard she disappeared yesterday, but I haven’t heard any details.”

Jenna knew the bond between the librarian and the town schoolteacher was more than just professional; they were friends who shared a love of imparting knowledge. “I’m afraid there’s not any news,” she replied. “Sarah seems to have disappeared the day before last while hiking in Whispering Pines Forest.”

“How awful,” Emily said sadly. “I hike there sometimes myself. It’s so easy to take a wrong turn or miss your footing on those trails. Do you have a team searching for her?”

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