CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Silence fell in the car as Jenna and Jake both leaned forward to listen to the phone call. Over the line, Frank’s voice rasped with the weight of old secrets.

“Lisa Donovan,” he said, his words tumbling into the past, “was in my graduating class.” The connection crackled slightly, as if even technology felt the strain of time being rewound. “She vanished right after we tossed our caps. We all thought—well, nobody really questioned it much.”

Jenna pictured Lisa Donovan as a young woman from another era frozen in time, her fate only now demanding attention.

“Her father, Claude,” Frank continued, “ruled his household like a dictator. No one dared cross him. When Lisa disappeared, the story we got fed was that she’d had enough and she finally ran off. But now …”

There was a pause, then Frank said, “But now it’s obvious she was murdered.” His tone was somber, as if each word cost him something. “And there must be more to that story. You said there was a second grave?”

“Yes, identically buried,” Jenna replied. “Is there another disappearance that comes to mind—an unsolved case that could explain who the other woman buried in the woods might be?”

Frank hesitated, a silence stretching between them.

“Nothing official,” he finally said, his voice laced with reluctance. “But small towns have long memories, Jenna. There are always rumors, whispers of things not quite right.”

Jenna exchanged a glance with Jake, both aware that they stood at the edge of something larger than they had anticipated.

She told Frank, “The coroner said the second body had been buried about half as long as Lisa’s.”

Frank’s breath caught in the phone’s speaker. “I was sheriff by then,” he muttered. “I remember, there was one girl, Lauren Knox, just graduated high school in 2003. She vanished without a trace, and it’s a case that never left me. Her parents were distraught, reported her missing immediately. We searched, got the Highway Patrol involved, even the FBI. But Lauren... she just disappeared into thin air.”

“Did you know what Lauren looked like, Frank?” Jenna asked, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel rhythmically, tapping out the cadence of her thoughts. “Could there be a resemblance between her and Lisa?”

“Thinking back,” Frank said slowly, as if sifting through the archives of his memory, “Lauren may have shared some features with Lisa. The same slender build, long dark hair that cascaded down their backs. Of course, it never occurred to me to think about that resemblance until now …”

“Is there anyone still in Trentville who might remember these girls? Someone we should talk to?” Jenna questioned.

“Lauren’s folks left town not long after she did; couldn’t bear the reminders, I suppose. As for Lisa, both her parents are gone now—Claude and Mary Donovan. Claude’s passing didn’t leave many mourning,”

Jenna processed the information. With each revelation, the image of the small town’s past became less idyllic and more tarnished by secrets.

“Lisa’s younger sister, Ruth—she still lives here in Trentville,” Frank’s voice crackled through the speakerphone. “Married Simon Henderson. He’s a dentist over on Maple Street. Might be worth paying her a visit.”

“Thank you, Frank. We’ll do that right now.”

“Good luck,” he replied before she ended the call.

Jake scrolled through his phone, locating an address associated with the Hendersons. Jenna nodded, her gaze fixed on the road ahead as she started up the car and steered toward their new destination.

They arrived at a modest two-story house edged with trim hedges and a well-kept lawn. The neighborhood was quiet, except for the distant laughter of children playing somewhere out of sight. Jenna parked the car, and she and Jake stepped out, making their way up to the front door.

She knocked firmly. Moments later, the door swung open to reveal a woman with lines around kind eyes that had seen much of life. Her hair was a soft shade of brown, touched with wisps of gray, and her hands, though showing signs of work and age, were steady and inviting.

“Deputy Hawkins, Sheriff Graves,” Ruth Henderson greeted them, recognition lighting her features. “I saw your car out front. Please come in.”

The threshold crossed, Jenna observed the interior—a cozy chronicle of a family’s history. Framed photographs lined the walls, capturing smiles of years gone by. A worn sofa suggested countless evenings spent together, and the faint aroma of baked goods lingered, suggesting warmth despite the absence of its youthful occupants.

“Thank you, Mrs. Henderson,” Jenna said, stepping into the living room.

Ruth gestured towards a pair of cushioned armchairs, their fabric worn by years of use. Jenna lowered herself into one, and Jake took the seat beside her.

“We’re here with some questions about Lisa Donovan,” Jenna began, her voice measured, betraying none of the turmoil that the case stirred within her. “Your sister.”

“Lisa?” Ruth’s expression shifted to one of resignation as she settled onto the love seat across from them. “She ran away a long time ago.” Her hands folded in her lap. “It was sad, of course, but not surprising. She always wanted to escape... to leave everything behind.”

Jenna noted the subtle tension in Ruth’s shoulders, the way her gaze drifted, not quite meeting Jenna’s own. It was a look Jenna knew well—resignation with an undertone of unresolved pain and unanswered questions.

“Mrs. Henderson,” Jenna continued, softer now, “I’m afraid I have some difficult news. We’ve found a body—an unmarked grave on the outskirts of town. There was a high school ID card identifying the remains as Lisa.”

The color drained from Ruth’s face, leaving her pallid beneath the overhead light. “I... I always worried something terrible had happened.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes glistening with the onset of tears long held at bay. “Mom did too, before she passed.”

“Can you tell us why you believed Lisa chose to run away?” Jenna asked, encouraging Ruth to delve deeper into the past.

Ruth’s hands clenched tighter. “She was unhappy, so very unhappy with our father’s rules. The house was like a prison for her soul.” Ruth paused, taking a shaky breath. “She talked about running away often enough. When she vanished, it seemed as though she’d finally done it.”

Jenna observed the sorrow etched into Ruth’s features, the quiet acceptance of a story told so many times that it had become truth, even when doubts lingered.

“Lisa never saw eye to eye with Dad,” Ruth said, her voice steadier than Jenna expected. “He ruled our lives with an iron fist, cloaked in his version of faith. Lisa... she had this spirit, you know? It chafed against his control.”

“Was that why she talked about running away?” Jenna asked, keeping her tone neutral.

“Constantly,” Ruth confirmed, nodding slowly. “It was almost predictable—when she disappeared, everyone assumed she’d followed through. But Mom...” Her gaze wavered, landing on a photograph of a much younger family on the mantle. “Mom wondered if there was more to it. I think she knew something wasn’t right, especially when we never heard from her ever again.”

“Did your father look for her?”

Ruth’s laugh was short, bitter. “No. He seemed...relieved, if anything. He even banned us from speaking her name.” She looked up, her eyes dark with old, resurfacing fears. “Just like that, she was erased.”

The air grew heavy with unspoken thoughts. Jenna leaned forward, choosing her words with care. “Ruth, do you believe your father might have harmed Lisa?”

There was a momentary shudder as Ruth confronted a possibility long locked away. Her breath hitched, and when she spoke, her voice was fragile. “I’ve wondered, in the darkest corners of my mind, if he was capable of doing something terrible. He had such anger in him...he could be violent. But I pushed those thoughts away, prayed they were just nightmares.”

“Violent how?”

“His discipline often left bruises. On us, on Mom. I wanted to believe that Lisa had escaped him, that she was out there, living free.”

Jenna studied Ruth, noting the tremble in her hands. “Did Lisa ever talk about someone special? Maybe a boyfriend?” she asked, her voice soft but insistent.

“Well... she had dreams, you know? Of love, escape,” Ruth murmured, her gaze drifting to a window where light filtered through lace curtains. “Daddy wouldn’t let us date, but I always thought maybe Lisa found someone good and kind, who gave her a reason to leave—somebody she kept secret from everybody.”

“Someone she might have run away with?” Jenna pressed gently.

Ruth nodded, biting her lip. “I wanted to believe that. To imagine her happy somewhere far from here. But now...” Her voice cracked, and she couldn’t finish the sentence.

Jake leaned forward, his expression etched with concern. “Ruth, both your parents are gone now, is that right?”

“Yes.” Ruth’s reply was hollow, the word lingering like an echo in the quiet room. “Mom passed twelve years ago—Alzheimer’s. And Daddy... he died of a heart attack in 2005.”

A silent communication passed between Jenna and Jake, their shared realization unspoken but clear. Claude Donovan had still been alive when another girl, Lauren Knox, had vanished. Jenna’s eyes locked onto Ruth’s once more. “Ruth, did you or anyone else in your family know Lauren Knox?”

“No, not really. I mean, I remember hearing the name when she disappeared, but it wasn’t someone we knew.” Ruth’s brow furrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“Lauren went missing during the time that your father was still alive,” Jake said carefully, watching for a reaction.

“Are you saying... Do you think he could be … ?” Ruth’s voice trailed off, unable to articulate the fear that seemed to grip her.

“It’s just one of the things we have to consider,” Jenna replied. “We’re trying to piece everything together.”

“Lauren Knox,” Ruth pondered, her voice tinged with recognition yet distant as if the name were a relic from another era. “I remember when she vanished. It was quite a stir around Trentville. But no,” she shook her head, “I didn’t know her personally, and I never heard either my mother or father mention her.”

Her hands wrung together as she peered into Jenna’s eyes, seeking an anchor in the tumult of her thoughts. “You don’t think... Could my father have had something to do with Lauren’s disappearance?”

Jenna observed Ruth closely — the fear in her eyes, the tremors that seemed to vibrate through her frame.

“Ruth, it’s too early for us to make any assumptions,” Jenna assured her. “There are many pieces of this puzzle we’re still putting together.” She stood up, signaling the end of the conversation. “Thank you for speaking with us. I’m genuinely sorry to bring such painful news about Lisa. We’ll keep you updated with whatever we find.”

Ruth nodded, a fragile smile attempting to break through the clouds of concern on her face. “Thank you, Sheriff Graves,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jenna and Jake exchanged goodbyes with Ruth and stepped out of the Henderson home. Outside, the sun casts a harsh glare on the world below. Jenna slid behind the wheel of their car and Jake settled into the passenger seat, closing the door with a soft thud that seemed to punctuate the solemnity of their departure.

As Jenna turned the key in the ignition, leaving the engine to idle, she mused aloud, “Two girls, two decades apart, both mysteries unresolved.” In her mind, she added, mothers missing a daughter, a sister missing a sister. Like Piper’s disappearance, a terrible pain had lingered.

“Seems like Claude Donovan could have been involved,” Jake replied, his tone contemplative. “But he’s not here to answer for any of it.”

“Which means Amber’s disappearance might be a separate case entirely,” Jenna added. “We could be dealing with two distinct patterns of crime here with no connection between them. Claude Donovan’s been dead for over two decades. Even if he killed Lisa and Lauren, then he can’t be our guy for Amber. And yet …”

A moment from last night’s dream crossed her mind.

“Jake, the first woman in my dream—the woman who seems to have been Lisa, she did something, she said something. She knocked on a door and called out to someone on the other side. ‘You’ve made a mistake,’ she said. ‘She’s not the one you want. Don’t hurt her.’”

Jake nodded, the implications taking shape in his mind.

“Maybe the ‘her’ she meant was—or is— Amber. Maybe she’s being held captive somewhere.”

Jenna nodded as well. “If so, there’s still a connection between Amber’s disappearance and the murdered women.”

“Unless,” Jake interjected, “Donovan set something in motion—a pattern someone else is following.” His voice was measured, careful not to leap to conclusions that the evidence didn’t support.

Jenna considered this. Patterns could repeat endlessly, especially in close-knit communities like Trentville. But the theory was a stretch, and she knew it.

“Possible,” she conceded. “But we’re still grasping at straws here. We need to focus on what we do know, not what we can speculate.”

A sense of frustration simmered within Jenna; she despised the feeling of helplessness that crept up whenever leads turned vague and ambiguous, especially when it touched upon anything resembling her sister’s disappearance. She couldn’t avoid the question in her own mind: could Piper’s disappearance be connected to these? But Jenna reminded herself that she had no reason to believe that Piper was dead.

“Two cold cases,” she sighed, her words a faint echo in the car. “We may have stumbled upon some tragic history of this town, and it feels like we’re no closer to finding Amber than we were before.”

“Yet,” Jake added with cautious optimism.

“Yet,” Jenna echoed.

She couldn’t shake the nagging thought that they were missing something vital—some key piece of evidence that would unlock both the past and present mysteries. Because in spite of the time in between and the lack of suspects, one very important thing did connect them: this new case had brought the older ones to life in her dreams.