CHAPTER THREE

When Jenna’s patrol car rolled to a stop before the Genesius County Sheriff’s Office, she saw Jake leaning against a pillar, his uniform neat, his sandy hair bright in the sun’s rays. He hurried to join her, saying as he buckled in, “I just called Amber’s parents again. She’s still missing. Her folks sound scared, but my guess is this is just some false alarm.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Jenna replied. As she drove away from the modest single story brick building that was their headquarters, she was aware how pleasant Trentville could appear on a clear, warm, day like this, with the St. Francois Mountain Range in the background.

“Once we find her, it’s back to the usual grind,” Jake said, grinning. “We’ve got a wild garden gnome theft on our hands again. But we’ll probably find them stashed in somebody’s garage, just like before. Another neighborhood prank.”

“I’m sure you’re right about that one,” Jenna told him, but she couldn’t muster a smile in return. “This thing about Amber Stevens going missing, though—I hope it’s some sort of confusion, but I’m afraid this could be something different,” she admitted, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Jake studied her for a moment before curiosity tipped the scales. “Another dream?” he asked softly.

Jenna nodded, surprised by his response based on the confession she’d so recently made to him. She’d always been careful to guard her secret, the dreams that were more than mere figments of sleep. Now, Jake, along with the retired Sheriff Frank Doyle, both knew about her haunting gift. “Yes,” she said, “another dream.”

During the silence that followed, she wondered—what was he thinking? Did her abilities frighten him, or did they simply add another layer to the intricate puzzle of their workaday lives? Her attraction to Jake complicated matters further, adding a personal stake to the uncertainty. Jenna pushed these thoughts aside, focusing on the road ahead, aware that personal entanglements could not cloud her judgment—not when someone was missing and a life might be at stake. She felt the keen pain of her own missing twin sister.

Jenna kept her eyes on the road as she began, her voice low, “A young woman reached out to me, desperate for help.”

Jake shifted in his seat, turning his gaze towards her. “You think it was Amber Stevens?”

“I really don’t know.” Jenna’s frowned, her mind racing back to the fleeting images from her dream. “Otto Stevens is well known around these parts because of his auto shop. It’s likely I’ve seen Amber before, but I can’t recall her face clearly enough to be sure if she was the one in my dream.”

“I don’t remember her specifically either,” Jake said. “Lots of young people around here these days.”

“Maybe you can get her driver’s license photo. Or something from school.”

For a few moments, Jake busied himself with his phone.

“Here she is,” he said. “Driver’s license. No problems in her record. But I don’t recognize her.”

When Jenna pulled the car to a stop at a stoplight, he held up the phone for her to see. “Is this who you saw in your dream?”

Jenna’s lips pressed into a thin line. The photograph was small and not very good. “Maybe,” she said. “But these dreams aren’t always clear.” She shook her head, unable to explain how these lucid dreams could sometimes seem a bit out-of-focus, and how they felt like memories rather than fabrications of sleep.

“Didn’t see her face, then?” Jake asked, his brows knit together in concern as the light turned green and Jenna started driving again.

“Not very clearly,” Jenna admitted. “The details were blurred, elusive. But the woman I saw could have been Amber...”

Jake gazed at her from the passenger seat, understanding dawning. “If it was Amber reaching out in your dream,” he said, voicing the thought Jenna hadn’t dared to, “it would mean she’s no longer with us.”

He was right. Her gift—or curse—had never been wrong before. And it meant that Amber Stevens might be beyond their help.

The silence in the patrol car grew thick as Jenna navigated through the streets leading out of Trentville. She stole a glance at Jake, noting how his gaze stayed fixed on the passing scenery, a mask of concentration. How much had her confession altered his perception of her?

He’d been surprised at her story and also hurt that she hadn’t confided in him before. He’d accepted that she was telling the truth because it explained how she’d come up with some information that had helped solve cases. But he’d admitted, “I just... I don’t know where this leaves us. As a team. As friends.”

Soon, the rural landscape of Genesius County unfolded before them. The homesteads dotted along the rolling hills spoke of a simpler way of life, each property separated by stretches of greenery and weathered fences. Jenna turned onto a gravel driveway, pulling up to a one-story house framed by a wraparound porch and adorned with hanging flower baskets. It was a picture of pastoral tranquility, belying the distress surely felt inside.

Jenna and Jake left the vehicle and made their way to the front door. Before they could knock, the door swung open, revealing Norma Stevens. Her hair was pulled back into a hasty bun, strands escaping to frame a face creased with worry.

“Sheriff Graves, Deputy Hawkins,” Norma greeted, her voice tinged with anxiety. “Please come in.”

The warm and comfortable living room contrasted sharply with the situation. A man rose from a well-worn leather armchair, his movements deliberate, his expression grave. Otto Stevens’ large, calloused hands—evidence of years of labor at his auto shop—clasped together tightly as if holding onto the last vestiges of hope. His shirt, though casual, was neatly tucked in, and his salt-and-pepper hair was combed to one side, the very image of a father trying to maintain control amidst chaos.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Otto said, his voice steady but his eyes betraying fear. Jenna nodded, ready to delve into the details of Amber’s disappearance. She sat on a faded floral-patterned couch, her notepad open and pen poised. The room felt too quiet, the kind of silence that presses in on you with expectant weight. She glanced at Jake, who had taken up residence in a nearby armchair, his own notebook ready.

“Mrs. Stevens,” Jenna began, “could you walk us through what happened this morning?”

Norma fidgeted with the hem of her apron before responding. “Amber comes in pretty late at night from work. Otto and I have usually gone to bed, and she’s very quiet. We didn’t notice whether she’d gotten home at all last night. But Amber... she’s always up by seven, helps me with breakfast.” Her voice wavered, eyes drifting towards the staircase. “Today, when she didn’t come down, I thought maybe she’d slept in. But when I went to check on her, her room was empty, bed still made up neat as a pin. Then I saw that her SUV wasn’t in the driveway.”

“Did you try contacting her?” Jenna asked, keeping her tone even.

“I called her cell right away,” Norma said, pressing a hand to her chest. “Straight to voicemail. That’s not like her. Amber’s responsible. She always lets us know where she is. She’s been home on summer break from Ozark State University. She’ll be starting her junior year in the fall.”

Jenna scribbled a note before looking up again. Their eyes met, and Jenna could see the flicker of panic threatening to spill over.

“Has she been home all summer?” Jenna shifted the topic, hoping to ease Norma’s distress.

“Yes,” Norma replied, a hint of pride seeping into her words despite the circumstances. “She’s been volunteering at Paws and Harmony Rescue during her break. Loves animals, our Amber. Wants to be a vet.”

“Does she always work a night shift?” Jenna pressed gently.

“Every evening, until about eleven-thirty, but no later than midnight,” Norma confirmed. “She prefers those hours; says it’s quieter then, easier to study or read alongside the kennels.”

“Could Amber have stayed somewhere else last night? A friend’s place, perhaps?” she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning within.

Norma shook her head, the lines of worry deepening around her eyes. “No, she would’ve called. It’s not like her to just disappear. I even thought...maybe she went to Jason’s, but I got no answer on his phone either.” The mention of Jason Reeves sent a ripple through Jenna, memories of his mugshot flashing in her mind—disorderly conduct wasn’t easily forgotten in a town like Trentville.

Otto shifted in his seat, discomfort settling over his broad shoulders. “She didn’t stay with him,” he said, almost to himself. He avoided Norma’s probing stare as he continued, “Jason told me at the shop yesterday... Amber ended things between them. He wasn’t happy about it.”

Jenna watched as surprise flickered across Norma’s face. “You knew about this? Why wouldn’t you say anything, Otto?”

The air grew thick with tension, and Jenna sensed the undercurrents of a long-standing relationship strained by secrets and silence. She noted the strain in Otto’s jaw, the way he seemed to grapple with words unsaid. Jenna tucked away every detail, each one a potential piece of the puzzle.

Norma’s hands twisted in her lap. Jenna observed the silent exchange between husband and wife, recognizing the shadow of doubt that crept into Norma’s expression.

Otto’s fingers drummed a staccato rhythm against the armrest, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the room. “I didn’t mention it,” he said finally, his voice hoarse with reluctant confession, “because I wasn’t pleased about it either.” He paused, the lines deepening around his eyes. “Jason and Amber... they’ve been together since they were kids. I always thought—hoped—they’d take over the business one day.”

Jenna remained still, her keen eyes absorbing Otto’s every nuance. His hands ceased their movement, and he looked at them as if they belonged to a stranger. “I suppose part of me was waiting for Amber to reconsider,” he continued, a tremor in his words.

“Could Jason have hurt her because she ended things?” Jenna asked directly.

“Never,” Otto shot back, the scoff erupting from him like a reflex. “Jason wouldn’t harm Amber. He adores her.”

“That’s not entirely true, Otto.” Norma’s voice quivered but held an underlying steel. “You know as well as I do, Jason’s got a temper. It’s scared me more than once.”

Jenna’s focus shifted between the couple, noting the crack in their united front. “We’ll need to speak with Jason,” she stated firmly.

“Should be at the shop by now,” Otto replied, though his certainty seemed to falter under Norma’s worried gaze.

Otto’s hand trembled slightly as he dialed the familiar number for his auto repair shop.

“Hey, Rudy,” Otto said into the phone. “Could you put Jason on the line?”

Jenna watched his face tighten with concern at what the voice said in reply.

“Okay, Rudy,” Otto said. “Thanks.”

It was clear to Jenna that Jason hadn’t shown up to work. The room fell still after Otto ended the call, except for the ticking of a wall clock marking the passage of time—time during which Amber remained missing.

“Let me try his cell,” Otto said, more to himself than anyone present, as if willing the outcome to be different this time. He punched in the numbers and waited, his hopeful expression fading into resignation as the call diverted straight to voicemail. “Jason, it’s Otto. Call me back, son. It’s urgent.” The finality in his voice as the message ended betrayed Otto’s growing worry.

Jenna made a mental note of Otto’s visible shift from disbelief to concern. She also observed Norma, whose eyes never left her husband, reflecting a mirroring anxiety that seemed to magnify with each unanswered call.

“Mr. Stevens, could you give us Jason’s address?” Jenna asked, breaking the heavy silence. Otto recited it, and she scribbled the information in her notepad with an economy of movement, each stroke purposeful. At their request, he also described her blue SUV and recited its plate number.

“Could you show us a photo of Amber?” Jake asked.

Norma rose from her seat, her movements slow as if weighted down by dread. She reached for a silver-framed picture on the mantle, brushing off dust before handing it to Jenna.

“This was taken a few months ago,” she said.

The photo was a captured moment of radiance—a young woman with a bright smile, full of life. Jenna studied the image, the same haunted feeling from her dream resurfacing. She got a different feeling from this picture than she had from the license photo—a sharper feeling of recognition. There was something eerily familiar about Amber’s features, reminiscent of the dream’s spectral visitor. Jenna was struck by the curve of Amber’s smile, so much like the one that had pleaded with her in the ethereal realm of her dreams. Though Jenna knew better than to leap to conclusions, the resemblance was strong.

Jake leaned in to look at the photo, and Jenna sensed his gaze lingering not only on the image but also on her, searching for any sign of her thoughts. She felt exposed under his scrutiny, knowing her next words could alter the trajectory of their investigation—and their understanding of each other.

“Sheriff?” Jake’s voice, laced with concern, barely registered over the pounding of her heart.

She gave a curt nod, trying to steady her breath, to steady the world that seemed to tilt precariously at the edges. Could this vibrant, smiling girl be the one who had appeared to her, spectral and desperate?

She stood up and replaced the photograph on the mantle with care. A part of her— the analytical, grounded sheriff—clung to the hope that there was another explanation, any explanation other than the one her dream suggested.

“Is everything okay?” Norma’s voice broke through the tense silence.

“Of course,” Jenna lied smoothly. “Deputy Hawkins and I will be on our way now, and we’ll do everything we can to find your daughter.”