CHAPTER TWELVE

When Jenna stepped inside the ranger’s station at the edge of Whispering Pines Forest, the deputy on duty glanced up from the radio console, his face set in grim lines of concentration.

“Graves,” he greeted, tipping his hat in an understated salute.

“Status?” Jenna asked, her voice all business.

“Search is ongoing; no sign of Sarah Thompson yet,” the deputy replied, handing her a radio. “Your second-in-command is out there solo.”

“Thanks,” Jenna acknowledged, clipping the radio to her belt. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the maps plastered along the walls, trails marked with pins and strings—a web of possibilities where Sarah might be found. But nothing marked any discovery that might lead the searchers to her.

Stepping back outside, Jenna took out her smartphone and pulled up the GPS application. An overlay of the forest’s topography filled the display, dotted with the moving blips representing searchers. She zoomed in, looking for Jake’s identifier among the cluster of signals.

There it was—a solitary dot, apart from the rest, deeper in the woods than the rest. Her thumb pressed against the screen, expanding the image to reveal the exact coordinates. She memorized the location, then locked her phone and clipped it onto her belt next to the radio, ready to head into the depths of the forest.

She got back into her car to follow the narrow road that snaked through the woods as far as it would take her in the direction of Jake’s location. The car hugged a curve, and Trentville became a memory behind her, its small-town charm replaced by the wild embrace of nature.

Finally, the GPS showed her that Jake was still about a quarter of a mile away, and she could get no closer to him by vehicle. She stopped the car and shut it off, then retrieved her hiking boots from the backseat, lacing them up with practiced efficiency. Her backpack followed, filled with essentials—water, first aid kit, flashlight, and more. Each item was a small comfort against the unknown.

She set off through the forest at a brisk pace, her strides deliberate. In a short time the terrain grew steeper, the trail more obscured. With each step, her senses sharpened, attuned to every rustle and snap in the underbrush.

When the shrill ring of her phone broke through the forest sounds, she pulled the device from her pocket without breaking stride and glanced at the caller ID. To her surprise, Emily Carson’s name flashed across the screen.

“Emily.” Jenna kept moving as she answered. “What have you got?”

“Jenna, I’ve been racking my brain since you left the library.” Emily’s voice was urgent. “Something just clicked. I remembered Sarah talked about hiking in Whispering Pines the last time I saw her.”

“Did she mention anything specific?” Jenna prodded, her pace slowing as she navigated a particularly steep incline.

“Indeed, she did,” Emily continued. “She was curious about an old trail she’d heard mentioned by some of the town elders. A path not kept open for years, maybe even decades.”

Jenna paused to lean against a tree, processing this new information. “Do you know which trail she was referring to?”

“Only that it’s steeped in local folklore and largely forgotten,” Emily said. “I told her it didn’t sound safe, especially not to hike that trail alone. But Sarah has a wild streak. Maybe she went anyway.”

“Thanks, Emily. This could be the lead we need.”

The call ended, and Jenna’s thoughts lingered on the implications. The notion of an abandoned trail in Whispering Pines played into the pattern of a woman seeking the thrill of discovery, perhaps lured by the romance of uncovering something hidden by time.

Then she recalled the conversation she’d had with Sarah’s mother. The woman’s eyes had held a well of sorrow as she spoke of her daughter. “Sarah always took the road less traveled,” she had said, her voice a blend of pride and trepidation. The memory now seemed prophetic.

It sounded just like Sarah to be drawn to something forbidden or forgotten, Jenna thought. The young teacher’s spirit resonated with an innate curiosity and a hunger for change. Jenna couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a routine disappearance. It felt personal, as though the forest itself had reached out and claimed Sarah for its own mysterious reasons.

She lifted her phone again and punched in another number.

“Ranger Schmitt,” came the gruff answer.

“Billy, it’s Jenna Graves,” she said. “I’m here in Whispering Pines, and I’ve joined the search. I need to know about a trail in the forest that hasn’t been used for a while—one that might not even be on our maps anymore.”

There was a brief pause, then a reply. “That would be the Beauford Ridge Trail. Runs through some rough terrain, hasn’t been maintained for, oh, I’d say forty years or more. I’ve never had cause to walk it myself, and we don’t give that location to hikers. There used to be an old road through there, but I don’t expect that to be passable now. Your deputy has a map with him that will show where it is, or was.”

“Thanks, Billy. That could be vital.”

As she moved forward again, Jenna considered this new lead, assessing probabilities and risks. The Beauford Ridge Trail was an unknown variable, a hidden crease on the map of this case that required exploration. If Sarah had indeed ventured there, the consequences could still be a simple misadventure rather than something more sinister. Maybe the schoolteacher was lying hurt somewhere, unable to phone for help, perhaps unconscious.

She quickened her pace, her thoughts focused on reaching Jake and sharing this new information.

“Jake,” she called out as she approached his position.

Hearing his name, Jake turned from his contemplation of the forest around him and offered a small smile. “Jenna,” he acknowledged.

“Billy mentioned a trail that’s been untouched for decades—Beauford Ridge. It could be where Sarah went. Can you check your map?”

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. They needed 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.”

Together they worked, marking the boundaries of the scene with red tape. They moved in sync, a silent agreement between them that no stone would be left unturned, no clue overlooked.

“We should make sure we haven’t missed anything,” Jake suggested. He had seen enough in his career to know that time was not on their side.

Then they walked the road to see if there were other signs but found nothing except the faint marks of the vehicle that had recently retreated. The forest around them seemed to mutter dark secrets as the wind carried soft sounds through the trees.