Page 5 of In Her Sights

“Definitely one for the books,” she agreed, but her mind whirred with the memory that she had never shared with Jake. A lucid dream had been the key—a vivid, otherworldly experience where clues had unveiled themselves in sleep, guiding her steps when she was awake.

In Jake’s eyes, it had been her uncanny “sixth sense” that led them to the abandoned Shannon Mine, following leads that seemed to come out of thin air. But Jenna knew better. It was the visitation in her dreams, an ephemeral voice from beyond, which had shown her the secret location where a local burglar was hiding all his loot. Afterward, she was careful never to reveal too much of how her insight had come about, but with someone as observant as Jake, it was only a matter of time before he figured it out—if he didn’t half-realize the truth already.

In the stillness of night, a miner had visited her in that dream—a specter from a century past. His face was etched with the brutal history of the mines, scars crisscrossing his skin like a map of sorrow. He wore the heavy canvas of his trade, stained with the earth’s blood. With each step he took in her dreamscape, his lantern swung, casting erratic shapes on the rough-hewn walls of the tunnels that stretched out like veins near Trentville.

The miner never spoke; words were as spent as the air in his lungs. Instead, he beckoned, gesturing with a hand gnarled and twisted from toil and tragedy. Forward, ever forward, he led her through the labyrinthine passages, always pointing toward a specific direction.

Awake, Jenna knew exactly where she had been in her slumber. As sheriff, she’d seen old maps documenting every inch of Genesius County—maps that included the abandonedveins of the Shannon Mine. Her intuition insisted that this was more than just a dream—it was guidance. And so it was. The discovery of the stolen goods had been almost anticlimactic after the spectral visitation she received, but she was glad about the outcome.

She shook off the memory and returned to the present. “Let’s head back in,” she said. “We’ve still got paperwork to deal with.”

“Ah, the true calling of law enforcement,” Jake joked, falling into step beside her.

They retraced their steps toward the station, each lost in their thoughts. Jenna’s gaze lingered on Jake for a moment longer than necessary, taking in his easy confidence and the way his uniform emphasized his athletic build. Her heart fluttered, a reminder of her unspoken feelings, but she quickly stifled it. Then she noticed that he was staring at their destination.

“Something up?” Jenna asked, following his gaze. There, on the steps leading up to the station, sat a young woman, her shoulders shaking with sobs, her hands clasping what appeared to be a crumpled tissue.

“Looks like our break is over,” Jake muttered, and Jenna nodded, feeling the shift in atmosphere as the weight of duty settled back onto her shoulders. The distressed figure before them was familiar—Bea Carter, who worked at Trentville’s busiest diner. Bea’s usually bright eyes were now red-rimmed and desperate. Her tear-streaked face stood out starkly against the weathered brickwork of the old sheriff’s office. A silent plea in her gaze struck a chord deep within Jenna.

Something really bad must have happened.

CHAPTER THREE

“Come inside, Bea,” Jenna said. “We’ll talk in my office.”

Bea stepped into the room,

Jenna gestured to a chair, and Bea sank down gratefully. Jake followed close behind, closing the door softly before taking a stance near them.

Jenna poured a glass of water from the pitcher on her desk and gave it to Bea, who took it with trembling hands. “Thank you,” Bea said softly, her voice barely audible above the hum of the outdated air-conditioning unit wedged into a window.

“Take your time,” Jenna said as she pulled up a chair close to Bea. She studied her visitor—an image of vulnerability wearing a waitress’s uniform, her apron bearing the logo of the local diner where she worked.

“Sarah didn’t come home last night,” Bea finally said, skipping formalities, her eyes not leaving the glass in her hands. “Sarah Thompson, I mean.”

Jenna’s mind sharpened at the mention of Sarah Thompson, who had arrived here in Trentville around five or six years ago—the young schoolteacher whose smile had become familiar at the town’s gatherings. Jenna clearly recalled the name and face of one of Trentville’s newest residents.

Bea’s gaze lifted, revealing red-rimmed eyes that spoke of unshed tears and sleepless worry. “She’s my roommate, and we rent a little house just a block away from the diner. Sarah is so responsible, Sheriff Graves. This isn’t like her.”

“Call me Jenna,” she replied, noting Jake’s subtle nod, sharing the sentiment. It was small-town culture; the titles often felt too heavy for such intimate settings.

“Jenna,” Bea repeated, clinging to the name like a lifeline. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s start from the beginning,” Jenna suggested, reaching for a notepad.

Bea nodded, sipping water as if to brace herself. “Sarah… she went hiking yesterday in Whispering Pines Forest,” Bea finally said, her voice barely audible. “She does that most weekends, just to clear her head, you know? Said she’d be back by nightfall. But I was tired, and I slept soundly. And this morning, I didn’t even notice… not until the phone call came.”

“What phone call?” Jenna asked.

“From the school—she teaches at Trentville Elementary. They wanted to know why she didn’t show up this morning. Then I looked in her bedroom and saw that she was gone.”

Jenna leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. Whispering Pines Forest was wide and dense, stretching out like a green sea just beyond Trentville’s town limits. It was easy for the unprepared or unlucky hiker to get lost.

“Did she have any favorite spots, trails she frequented?” Jenna asked.

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t like hiking, spend too much time on my feet working at the diner. So I’m not really familiar with where she went.” Bea then offered hesitantly, “She sometimes mentioned names like Old Man’s Creek or Eagle’s Perch, but I don’t know about this trip.”

Something in Bea’s tone mirrored a self-reproach that Jenna knew all too well.

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