Page 24 of In Her Sights

Jake unfurled a paper map against the trunk of a tree, his fingers tracing lines and symbols until they settled on a narrow, dashed line snaking away from the main trails. “Here,” he said, pointing. “It’s not far. Maybe half a mile in that direction.”

“Let’s go,” Jenna replied without hesitation.

Together, they navigated through the underbrush, their steps muffled by the thick carpet of moss and fallen leaves. The forest seemed to close in on them, whispering secrets as ancient as its towering trees. Jenna’s mind cataloged every sound and movement, her senses on high alert.

As they approached the Beauford Ridge Trail, the signs of human passage became evident in the overgrown path. A broken branch here, a footprint there, barely discernible but unmistakable to a trained eye. The foliage was trampled down in places, suggesting recent activity.

“Look at this,” Jenna said, crouching to examine a piece of bright material entwined with the undergrowth. “It’s fresh. Someone has definitely passed through here recently.”

“Could be Sarah,” Jake murmured, scanning the surroundings with renewed intensity.

“Or someone else,” Jenna added, her intuition prickling uneasily.

They pushed forward, following the subtle signs of passage that wove through the overgrown trail. The air was still, the silence broken only by the occasional call of a distant bird or the rustle of leaves underfoot. Jenna’s green eyes swept the terrain searching for any clue, any indication that Sarah had passed this way.

“Here,” Jenna said abruptly, her voice low and even. She pointed to a series of indentations in the ground, nestled among the roots of an ancient oak. A patterned sole had left its mark, pressed deep into the dirt—a woman’s hiking boot, size seven, possibly.

“Sarah,” Jake said. “But look, she actually left the path here. Why would she do that?”

They followed the faint trail to a place where the earth was disturbed, churned up in a way that spoke of sudden movement, a scuffle.

“Looks like there was a struggle,” Jake observed, his tone mirroring Jenna’s—professional, devoid of panic.

Pushing aside a heavy bough, they followed the marks of disturbed earth and foliage. It was clear that something—or someone—had been dragged through the dense underbrush, the trajectory marked by snapped twigs and crushed ferns. Every so often, a droplet of crimson marred the greenery, stark and accusing.

“Blood,” Jenna acknowledged, kneeling to examine a particularly bright splash on a fallen log. It could be Sarah’s, or it could belong to whatever wildlife roamed these woods. But deep down, her intuition insisted that this was no animal’s doing.

“Let’s keep moving,” Jenna said, rising to her feet. Her gaze met Jake’s, and in his eyes, she saw a reflection of her own resolve. They were not just deputies performing a duty; they were the lifeline to a missing soul, perhaps the only hope Sarah had left.

The signs of struggle they were tracking grew more chaotic, then suddenly the chaos tapered off. They had arrived at the edge of a dirt road that cut through the forest like a scar. It was old, seldom used, its surface littered with leaves and debris from countless seasons past. But weeds growing in that road had been recently mashed down; something had been dragged along here.

In just a short distance, they encountered a tree trunk fallen over the road, and on the far side of that they found the unmistakable indentation of tire tracks. Some sort of vehicle—a Jeep, an SUV, or a small truck—had driven in here as far as it could, and something had been dragged to it.

“Tracks look fairly fresh,” Jake murmured, crouching to look. He ran his fingers over the packed earth, tracing the outline where rubber had pressed into the ground.

Carefully, Jenna also examined the tracks, searching for any distinctive patterns or markings that might be of use. But the soil was loose, the impressions lacking the clarity needed for a thorough analysis. She straightened up, feeling a mix of frustration and urgency tightening in her chest.

“Can’t make out the tread exactly,” she said, meeting Jake’s gaze. “But you’re right, someone has driven in and out of here recently.”

Jake nodded, his expression grim. “Abduction,” he concluded, voicing the thought that hung heavily between them. Sarah hadn’t just wandered off the trail; she had been taken, and the perpetrator had left frustratingly little behind. Jenna’s mind raced with possibilities, each more unsettling than the last. Theyneeded to act fast; every minute mattered when a life hung in the balance.

“Let’s radio Billy,” Jake suggested. “He needs to know about this.”

“Agreed,” Jenna said, reaching for her radio. As she prepared to deliver the news, her thoughts lingered on Sarah—on the fear and confusion she must have felt, on the desperate hope that they weren’t too late. The weight of responsibility was heavy, but this was what she was trained for: bringing the lost back home, restoring peace to the troubled streets of Trentville.

Jenna pressed the radio to her lips, her thumb depressing the call button. “Billy,” she said. “This is Sheriff Graves. Jake and I have got something you need to see. We need you and your deputies at our location immediately.”

Static crackled over the line before the ranger’s voice responded, clear and questioning. “Sheriff? What’s the situation?”

“We have signs of an abduction. The trail ends at a dirt road with recent tire tracks. Our search for Sarah in the forest—it’s over.”

There was a pause, then the sound of Ranger Billy Schmitt exhaling slowly. “Copy that, Sheriff. We’re on our way. “

“Schmitt, be advised, we’ll need to secure the area for forensics,” Jenna spoke into the radio, thinking ahead to the investigation that would follow. “And alert the necessary agencies—FBI included.”

“Understood, Sheriff,” came the reply, brisk and businesslike.

Jenna turned to Jake, nodding toward the disturbed earth where the struggle had ended. “Let’s make sure nothing else gets contaminated.”

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