Page 22 of In Her Sights

“Are you certain there’s no mistake?” Emily pressed.

“Positive. It looks as though he must have changed his mind and simply decided not to come here, but he didn’t bother to explain why. He just never showed up. I’m sorry, but that’s all the information we have.”

“Thank you,” Emily said as Jenna absorbed the news.

The static crackle of the speakerphone fell silent as Emily ended the call, leaving a stillness in her office that seemed to amplify Jenna’s unease.

The speaker’s low hum was replaced by an oppressive silence.

“So he never got to Eugene,” Jenna repeated.

It did, indeed, seem strange. A promising writer, set for a new chapter in his life, gone without a trace—just like Sarah Thompson might be now. Jenna’s instincts screamed at her: there were patterns here, sinister echoes reverberating through time and memory.

“Emily, I can’t thank you enough for your help,” she said, offering a rueful smile.

“Of course, Jenna. But you still haven’t told me … what does this Mark Reeves have to do with Sarah Thompson or with any of us?” Emily’s voice held a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Jenna hesitated. She wanted to confide in Emily, to pour out everything about the lucid dreams that had led her here, but it was too complicated to get into, and she doubted very much whether Emily could accept the truth.

“I wish I could explain, Emily, but I’m still piecing things together. Just know that any connection I find could be important.”

“Anything else I can do?” Emily offered, looking concerned.

“Stay alert,” Jenna advised as she rose from her chair. “And if you hear anything about Sarah… or if anything occurs to you …”

“I’ll call you immediately,” Emily assured her, and Jenna believed her. In Trentville, the librarian was as much a guardian of secrets as she was of books.

“Thank you. And I’ll keep you posted on Sarah,” Jenna replied as she turned toward the door, the weight of her investigation settling heavier on her shoulders with each step through the old library. Outside, the sunlight seemed to be harsher now, the town’s tranquility at odds with the turmoil she felt brewing beneath its surface.

Jenna pulled out her phone as she walked down the library steps, pressing Jake’s number into the touch screen with practiced ease. The call connected just as she reached her patrol car, the metal heating beneath her hand.

“Jake, it’s Jenna. Any updates from Whispering Pines?” She braced for his response.

“We’re still searching,” came Jake’s reply, tinged with frustration. “We’ve combed through every trail Sarah might have taken. It’s like she just… vanished. We’re not giving up, but it doesn’t look good.”

Jenna’s grip on her phone tightened, the plastic creaking. This echoed the disappearance of Mark Reeves—a pattern emerging that chilled her to the core. A writer and a hiker, both seemingly swallowed by thin air, and the link between them tugging at the edges of her intuition.

“Keep me informed, Jake. Every second counts.” Jenna’s command was firm, yet she could hear the underlying note of desperation in her own voice.

“Will do, Sheriff. You gonna be okay?” Jake’s concern was audible; he knew her well enough to sense when her resolve wavered.

Jenna pressed the phone to her ear, her other hand gripping the steering wheel of her patrol car.

“Jake, I’m on my way to Whispering Pines. I’ll join the search,” she said, a decisive edge cutting through the midday silence that enveloped her.

“Alright, Sheriff. We could use your insight,” Jake responded, his voice crackling over the line with an undercurrent of urgency.

She ended the call and slid the phone into her pocket, her mind racing faster than the engine of her car as she turned the keys in the ignition. Jenna navigated through the streets of Trentville, the quaint houses blurring past her window as she headed for Whispering Pines Forest. As she drove, the memory seeped back into her consciousness.

In the haunting clarity of her dream, Mark Reeves stood immobile before the yawning door of a bus, an invisible force anchoring him to the spot while freedom beckoned just steps away. It was only now, with the fresh knowledge of his disappearance, that the true weight of the vision pressed down upon her.

The symbolism was stark—Mark, unable to leave Trentville, not because he didn’t want to, but because something—orsomeone—had prevented him. Her intuition told her that this was no mere accident. It suggested a fate far more sinister, and Jenna felt a chill despite the summer heat. Had something like that happened to Sarah? If so, what did it mean that Sarah hadn’t yet reached out to her? Jenna could only hope it meant that Sarah was still alive.

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, and she focused on the road ahead, willing herself to stay grounded in the present. The trees of Whispering Pines loomed in the distance, their dark silhouettes hinting at the many secrets they surely kept. Jenna’s resolve flared; if there were answers to be found within those woods, she would uncover them. For Sarah. For Mark. For all the lost souls waiting for someone to listen.

CHAPTER TWELVE

When Jenna stepped inside the ranger’s station at the edge of Whispering Pines Forest, the deputy on duty glanced up from the radio console, his face set in grim lines of concentration.

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