Page 38 of In Her Sights

She closed her eyes briefly, summoning the image of the woman with the three suitcases. “She had brown hair streaked with silver, worn long and loose. Her eyes were a dull green, tired but resilient. She dressed plainly, like she’d seen hard work and didn’t care much for appearances. There was this… strength about her, despite the fear.”

“And you said a man was calling out to her by name,” Frank said. “What did he call her?”

Jenna thought hard, then she said, “Birdie,” the name she’d heard shouted in the dream.

Frank’s expression shifted subtly, an edge of recognition dawning. “That sounds like Melissa Brennan,” he said slowly, as if testing the name against the image Jenna had painted. “Lucas Brennan’s wife. They live—or lived—on a farm not far from Trentville. He’s a bit of a survivalist, keeps to himself mostly. Isaw only Melissa a few times when Lucas came into town for supplies. She was like a shadow behind him, you know? He called her Birdie.”

“Lucas Brennan,” Jenna murmured, the name familiar, like a bitter aftertaste. “I remember hearing about him. His wife vanished five years ago.” Her voice trailed off as she considered the implications, the puzzle pieces starting to align with an ominous click. “That was back when you were still sheriff, Frank,” she added. “Lucas Brennan told everyone that Birdie had packed up and left, didn’t he? He claimed he didn’t know where she’d gone.”

“That’s right. Lucas was adamant that Birdie just up and decided to leave Trentville. No note, no warnings… nothing.”

“Yet,” Jenna pressed on, feeling the threads of the past weaving through the present, “Lucas has a history, doesn’t he? Assault charges that paint a picture of a man quick to anger.”

“More than just charges,” Frank admitted with a heavy sigh. “Violence follows some men like a curse. He was arrested several times. Each incident more violent than the last. The town’s been gossiping about it for years.” He paused, his expression darkening. “The rumors around here… they say he might have done something terrible to Melissa. That maybe she never left at all.”

“Rumors sometimes hold a fraction of truth,” Jenna mused. She knew how tales spread through the tight-knit fabric of Trentville, taking root in the fertile ground of imagination and growing wild and untamed. But if Melissa’s disappearance was not voluntary, then every suspicion took on a sinister new meaning.

“Lucas insisted she just up and left,” Frank said, rubbing his thumb along the edge of his coffee mug. “No note, no calls after. Nothing.”

“But you never opened an investigation?” Jake asked.

Frank shook his head slowly. “We checked what we could. There wasn’t a shred of evidence to suggest anything other than what Lucas claimed. No signs of a struggle, no financial anomalies, no witnesses. Just a husband saying his wife took off.”

“Given his history…” Jake’s voice trailed off.

“Exactly,” Frank agreed with a sigh. “But suspicion isn’t enough to warrant destroying a man’s life. We needed cause, and at the time, there was none we could find.”

“Sarah Thompson disappeared the night before last, and Reeves ten years ago,” Jake said, his mind ticking over the timeline. “If Melissa’s disappearance five years ago is tied to theirs, we’re looking at a pattern. And,” he added hesitantly, looking at Jenna, “it does seem to match the time frame you heard in your dreams.”

A contemplative silence fell over the kitchen, and then Frank spoke up again. “Jenna, if Melissa Brennan is indeed tangled up in all of this, it’s time to check out her husband again. I think that you and Jake need to pay Lucas a visit.” His eyes, sharp as they were with age, held a glint of caution. “But be careful. Lucas has always been rough around the edges—violent and paranoid. It’s going to be tricky.”

“We can handle that,” Jake told him. This sounded more like the kind of investigation the former city cop had some experience with.

“Maybe so,” Frank conceded, his fingers tapping a staccato rhythm on the table. “But tread lightly. Lucas isn’t a man to take kindly to accusations, especially from law enforcement.”

Jenna knew Frank’s warnings were not to be dismissed; the prospect of confronting Lucas Brennan brought a familiar surge of adrenaline. “We’ll be on our guard,” she assured him.

“Good. And keep me posted. Anything feels off, you get out of there, understand?” His tone was firm, protective like that ofa father ensuring his child remembered to look both ways before crossing the street.

“Understood,” Jenna confirmed. Jake echoed her sentiment with a nod, his expression mirroring the seriousness of the situation even though he hadn’t had much time to adjust to the source of their information.

The remnants of breakfast lay forgotten on the plates as the gravity of their next steps turned away from the comfort of the meal. Jenna pushed back from the table, her chair making a soft sound against the linoleum floor.

“Thanks for the breakfast, Frank. And for the advice,” Jenna said, her gratitude evident in her eyes. She appreciated more than just the food; Frank’s insights were invaluable, his experience a guiding light in the murky waters they were about to navigate.

“Anytime, Jenna,” Frank replied, standing up to see them off. He clasped her shoulder briefly—a gesture of reassurance.

Jake stood as well, his movements collected and purposeful. He muttered a thanks to Frank too, and they shook hands. Then Jake and Jenna left the kitchen together, stepping out of Frank’s house into the pleasant June day.

Jenna felt the early sun on her face, its rays doing little to ease the chill of uncertainty of this morning’s conversation. As she and her deputy walked to their patrol car, the frontier between the safety of the known and the perils of the unseen seemed to her to still be a bit shaky. She glanced over at Jake, wondering if he truly comprehended the depth of what lay before them, approaching a suspect with only evidence from a dream in hand.

“Are you okay to drive?” Jake asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Jenna gave a curt nod, sliding behind the wheel. The keys jangled as she inserted them into the ignition, the sound oddlypiercing in the silence between them. She started the engine, the familiar rumble offering a semblance of normalcy in the chaos of her thoughts.

As Jenna began to drive toward Lucas Brennan’s home, the reality of what lay ahead settled in. The confrontation with Lucas, unpredictable and dangerous, loomed large. But it was the uncertainty in Jake’s silence that unsettled her most. Did he believe her? Could he accept the supernatural thread woven into the fabric of their investigation?

The gravel crunched beneath the tires as they made their way down the driveway that would lead them away from Frank’s home and toward Lucas Brennan’s secluded farm. Jenna kept her eyes fixed on the winding road, but her mind wandered. She was not only thinking of the confrontation with a man whose reputation was as wild and unforgiving as the surrounding Ozark hills, but also about the precarious balance of trust between her and Jake. He sat beside her quietly, without comment, and every mile closer to Lucas Brennan’s home amplified her concern.

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