CHAPTER SIX

Jenna sat staring at the stretch of Turner Road, where she had pulled to a stop. Jake finally broke the silence, his voice cutting through her contemplation.

“What do you mean?” he asked sharply. “Where do you think we should be now?

“I’m not sure exactly,” she replied. “Grab the map from the glove compartment. It’s an old one, from back when Frank Doyle was still the sheriff. Might show us something the newer ones don’t.”

Jake complied without question, the sound of paper crinkling loudly in the quiet car interior. Together they unfolded the yellowed map, its edges frayed with age, and laid it out across the dashboard. They traced highways and byways until they located Turner Road, a bold line amidst a network of routes.

Jenna’s gaze, however, was drawn to a much fainter line, marked Old Orndorf Road.

“There,” she pointed, her nail tapping against the paper. “That’s our missing angle.”

Jake leaned closer, squinting at the thin trail on the map. “Old Orndorf Road... that’s a road I’ve never taken.”

“Me neither,” Jenna said, her intuition sparking. “It’s an old farm road, built for taking produce to town. But large farms ship their goods to more distant markets by other means now. And look at this, it’s a shorter route between the animal rescue shelter and the Stevens’s place than this road we’re on now. Amber probably considered it a shortcut. Growing up with the road nearby, she probably knew it well.”

Without hesitation, Jenna reached for her phone and punched a number on her call list. After two rings, Frank Doyle’s gruff voice greeted her warmly.

“Jenna, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Frank’s tone was always a welcome sound, bringing with it a sense of stability amidst chaos.

“Hi Frank, I have a question for you,” she stated briskly as she glanced over the tattered map spread across the dashboard. “We’re looking into Amber Stevens—she’s gone missing,”

“Amber Stevens?” Frank’s concern was clear even through the phone. “I know the family. What can I do to help?”

“The last anyone saw of her was when left Paws and Harmony Rescue to drive to her parents’ home last night. There’s a chance she might have taken Old Orndorf Road. What can you tell me about it?”

“Old Orndorf?” There was a pause that stretched like the road itself, laden with abandonment. “I doubt that much of anybody uses that road anymore, maybe the occasional tractor in the daytime. But last I heard, the road was still under county care.”

“It would still be passable then?”

“There probably aren’t any trees growing up in it, if that’s what you mean. But it could be pretty rough by now.”

“Thanks, Frank.”

“Don’t mention it. Let me know what happens, okay?”

“We sure will.”

Jenna ended the call and pocketed her phone and shared a nod with Jake, a tacit agreement that their next move was to drive to Old Orndorf Road.

As Jenna steered the vehicle away from the Turner Road shoulder, Jake leaned forward, tracing the path on the map that sprawled across his lap, guiding Jenna toward the forgotten intersection with Old Orndorf Road.

“Left here,” he directed, and Jenna obliged, the squad car jostling its occupants as it transitioned from smooth asphalt to the uneven, neglected surface of Old Orndorf. The road was a relic, bypassed by time and progress, but the weeds in the center had been worn down by some kind of traffic. The overgrown branches that reached out were broken, also signs of at least a few vehicles passing.

A silent acknowledgment passed between Jenna and Jake; Old Orndorf road was still in occasional use.

Jenna’s hands gripped the wheel with determination as she navigated the bumpy route. When they rounded a sharp curve, a metallic glint caught her eyes—a blue SUV, solitary and askew, loomed ahead, its driver-side door gaping open like a wound.

“That's her vehicle. Plates match," Jake said. “You’re right, she must have used this road as a short cut.”

“Straight to her parents’ place.” She glanced at Jake, who nodded, their shared silence heavy with implication. “If Amber used this road regularly, she probably knew every twist and turn.” Jenna paused, her gaze sweeping over the deserted landscape—the position of the SUV as if hastily left. “There has to be a reason she stopped here.”

Jake surveyed the terrain, his face a mask of professional concern.

“But why leave her car?” he asked as they walked toward the abandoned SUV, its open door an unanswered question. “If it had been something like car trouble, surely she would have phoned someone.”

Although the vehicle looked deserted, they moved closer carefully, uncertainty clouding their steps. Jenna’s mind raced, piecing together fragments of information, intuition guiding her where evidence was scarce.

They checked the inside of the SUV quickly and found it to be definitely empty. Then Jenna stepped forward and peered at the ground in front of the vehicle. A second set of tire imprints marred the dirt just ahead of the SUV. Her pulse quickened as she pieced together the potential scenario.

“Someone else had pulled over here,” she said, pointing. “Amber must have stopped and gotten out of her SUV.”

“Doesn’t seem she would be likely to meet somebody out here by design,” Jake said. “But it could have been that classic ploy—someone faking trouble to get her to stop.”

“Someone who expected her to drive this way,” Jenna added. “Someone who knew her movements well.”

Without hesitation, Jenna reached for the radio clipped to her belt, summoning help with a practiced urgency.

“Colonel Spelling, this is Deputy Graves. Amber Stevens is missing, all right. We found her SUV abandoned on the side of Old Orndorf Road.”

A silence fell. Jenna knew that Spelling was struggling with his earlier skepticism.

“Are you sure?” he finally asked.

“Yes, sir. I understand you had doubts, but there’s no mistake. It’s the same vehicle make and plate number. It looks to us like she was might have been by someone who parked by the road and pretended to be in distress.”

“The oldest trick in the book,” Spelling growled softly.

“That’s right,” Jenna said. “We need for you to come here and see things for yourself.”

“I’ll be right there,” Spelling said, ending the communication.

Jenna clipped the radio back onto her belt and exchanged a glance with Jake.

“If Amber really was the woman in your dream …” Jake began anxiously.

“We may be dealing with something far worse than a simple disappearance,” Jenna said, finishing his thought.

They both walked around the SUV, examining it more thoroughly. Jenna bent down and saw a cellphone that had fallen under the chassis.

“That’s probably Amber’s,” Jenna gasped. “We need to have it examined by forensics.”

Jake lowered himself and stretched under the vehicle, reaching for the phone to take it into evidence. Meanwhile, Jenna was checking out the surroundings.

In her mind, she again heard the voice that had said, “Strange, nobody ever comes this way anymore.” There was no longer a shred of doubt in her mind—this was the place the mysterious woman had been talking about. But what about the train roaring toward them on this very road? She looked around anxiously, almost expecting it to manifest here and now, but nothing broke through the sunshine.

As she examined the dirt near the van, Jenna saw patterns that might have seemed random to an untrained eye, but her training and keen instincts read them like a book. Two pairs of footprints stood out against the earth; one set was smaller and lighter, the other larger, deeper, more forceful. They stretched along the road, telling a silent story of pursuit.

When Jake got back to his feet with the bagged phone in his pocket, he checked the footprints along with her.

“Looks like they were running,” he observed.

“Running,” Jenna echoed. “Amber fleeing, someone chasing.”

This stretch of nearly forgotten road had borne witness to a terrible act, and Jenna felt a grim satisfaction in her ability to read it. Yet the satisfaction was fleeting, overshadowed by the gravity of what those signs implied.

Jake came to a halt and pointed to the spot where the footprints veered off the road and plunged into the woods.

Together, they moved cautiously, following the disrupted underbrush and snapped twigs that marked the path of the chase. The air was still, and the only sounds to be heard were the crunch of their footsteps and the distant call of a crow. They tried to stay to one side of the route the woman and her pursuer had taken, in order not to obliterate any signs.

“Here,” Jenna pointed to where the foliage bore signs of a frantic struggle. Branches were bent at unnatural angles, leaves trampled underfoot. The man’s footprints circled, zigzagged, as if searching, while the woman’s showed a determined effort to escape, to evade.

They came upon a clearing where chaos gave way to a chilling convergence. The two sets of footprints came together abruptly; after that, there was only one set of footprints—deeper now, erratic, accompanied by a shallow trough in the dirt that suggested something being dragged. Those awful marks cut back through the woods toward the road.”

“God,” Jake muttered, voicing the dread that had already settled in Jenna’s stomach. He pulled out his phone and took pictures of those signs so they’d have them even if other searchers stormed over this area.

“Let’s get back to the car,” Jenna finally said, her voice steady. “Spelling will be here soon.”

Jake nodded, casting a last look over the scene. They retraced their steps to the road, where the mundane sight of their parked vehicle waited. As they emerged from the tree line, the distant rumble of an engine heralded Spelling’s arrival.

Jenna felt the earth compact beneath her boots as she stepped back onto Old Orndorf Road. The quiet was broken only by the hum of a vehicle approaching. Her heart pounded—not from the exertion of their search but from the terrible implications of her dream and the real-world evidence surrounding them.

Jake’s hand rested briefly on her shoulder, a reassurance. Jenna offered a tight nod but said nothing. Words were unnecessary; they both understood the gravity of what lay ahead.

Colonel Spelling’s truck kicked up dust as it drew near and came to a halt with a pneumatic sigh. The Colonel emerged first, his face set in a grim line, followed by two uniformed highway patrolmen who seemed equally uneasy. He did not speak at first, his eyes searching Jenna’s for an explanation, or perhaps absolution. Jenna simply met his gaze, her own eyes reflecting a resolve born from years of chasing shadows.

Finally, he spoke. "Show me."