CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Anything?” Jenna’s voice broke the silence, more out of habit than hope, as her tired eyes scanned line after line of text on the screen. The digital records that Colonel Spelling had sent still seemed to stretch into infinity.

“Nothing,” Jake replied, his tone flat. “It seems to me that we’ve cross-referenced every possible angle.”

Jenna’s fingers paused on the keyboard, her eyes scanning endless rows of names that flickered across the screen. Each line represented a life, a story, a tragedy, but she and Jake had found nothing that connected their fates to any single cause or place.

Hours had folded into each other, and it was well into the night now. Outside her closed office door, the building sat silent and still. All the staff had left hours ago, leaving Jenna and her deputy alone. Any incoming emergency calls would now be forwarded to the receiver designated for the long night ahead.

Jenna appreciated Jake’s quiet perseverance, though it did little to ease the growing sense of futility that gnawed at her. Each name they discounted felt like a step backward, away from the answers she sought. The reality that their efforts might yield nothing was a bitter pill, one she wasn’t ready to swallow just yet. But the worry that they were looking in all the wrong places lingered.

Jake leaned back in his chair, “Jenna, this isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“I know,” she admitted. She couldn’t shake the nagging sensation that they were missing something crucial. She rubbed her weary eyes. They had tried different years, different demographics, anything that could point them toward the pattern she was sure must be there. But the search felt like following mirages, each one dissipating upon contact.

“Could be right under our noses,” Jake mused, his voice low.

“Or it could be nowhere at all,” Jenna added quietly. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the unspoken thoughts that haunted both their minds.

Her eyes scanned a list of names they had pulled out of the mass. Each of those was linked to Trentville by some distant thread—a cousin who once attended the local high school, a friend of a friend who frequented the annual county fair. Every lead seemed to dissolve under scrutiny.

“We’ve found connections, but nothing really leading back here to Trentville,” Jenna said, her frustration mounting. “Friends, family in Trentville, but these people vanished in other places.” Their exhaustive search had yielded no one who had disappeared within the town limits.

She considered again the common ties that bound the victims she knew—Sarah Thompson, Mark Reeves, and her sister Piper. Their sometime presence in Trentville was the only tangible link, yet they had found nothing beyond that fact. And Mark Reeves’s name didn’t even appear on the colonel’s computerized list.

Mark Reeves wasn’t from Missouri, she reminded herself. Someone like Mark, who wasn’t from Missouri but was taken while passing through Trentville, maybe their disappearance went entirely unnoticed—the same as Mark’s disappearance had gone unnoticed except in her own lucid dream. Someone like that wouldn’t be on the Missouri state missing persons list. Their absence would be a ghost note, unheard amidst the cacophony of local disappearances.

She glanced at Jake, his silhouette framed by the dim light. His patience was a silent anchor in the chaos of Jenna’s thoughts.

“Jake,” said, “I appreciate you sticking with me through this.”

He turned, offering her a nod that conveyed understanding. “We’ll find something if it’s here to be found.”

Her gaze lingered on the digital clock in the corner of the computer monitor. The numbers mocked her, each minute slipping by without progress.

“Okay, Jake, let’s take a breather,” she suggested, pushing back her chair and rubbing her temples.

“Sure,” Jake agreed, standing and stretching his arms above his head, muscles shifting beneath his shirt. Jenna watched him for a moment, feeling the stiffness in her own limbs. She studied Jake’s profile, the set of his jaw reflecting his dedication. It comforted her to have him there, steadfast in the face of their shared uncertainty.

Jake’s gaze met hers. “We’ve been at this for hours, Jenna. One thing I need to understand—where did you come up with this name Mark Reeves? What’s the connection to Sarah Thompson’s case?”

Jenna hesitated, her pulse quickening. She’d managed to dodge this question so far. “Mark Reeves…” she began. “He vanished without a trace. Like Sarah, he was here one moment, gone the next.”

“How did you even know about him?”

“Frank Doyle and I had breakfast together this morning and … his name came up.”

“And Frank just brought up this story from ten years ago?”

She hesitated, unable to explain why the topic of Mark had been part of that discussion. “Well … uh … he just mentioned meeting Mark Reeves when he came through Trentville. They actually went fishing together. Said he seemed like a bright kid, passionate about literature, about life. But after that day, he heard no word from him ever again.”

“And you think this is connected to Sarah how?” Jake asked, trying to piece together Jenna’s thoughts.

“Maybe the possibility just struck me because of Sarah’s disappearance. Two people, full of dreams, both vanishing from our little town.”

She shifted in her chair, feeling the weariness of hours spent searching names that led nowhere. “There’s more,” she continued. “I got help from Emily Carson at the library. We dug into Mark Reeves’s background further.”

“And?” Jake’s eyebrows rose.

“Turns out he’d just finished his undergrad at the University of Florida in Gainesville. Was supposed to be on his way to something bigger, brighter.”

“An aspiring writer on the cusp of a new life chapter,” Jake mused.

“Yes, exactly. His whole future ahead of him, and then…” Jenna trailed off, shaking her head. The image of Mark standing desolate outside Hank’s Derby flickered in her mind—a vision she couldn’t share. “He was enrolled for grad school at the University of Oregon in Eugene. Supposed to start a work-study program.”

“Did he ever make it there?” Jake’s voice was cautious.

Jenna shook her head. “No. The admissions office confirmed it. He was expected, but he never arrived. It’s like he just vanished after leaving here.”

“Disappeared into thin air,” Jake concluded, filling the silence Jenna left behind. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the stubble there a testament to the long day’s work. “So, where does that leave us, Jenna? Why do you think Mark disappeared during his stay here?” he asked, leaning forward again. “He was traveling across the country. Could’ve vanished anywhere between Trentville and Eugene.”

Jenna hesitated, feeling the weight of his question. The logical part of her agreed; Mark Reeves’s disappearance could have occurred at any point along his journey. Yet, she remained tethered to the belief that Trentville held the answer. However, without revealing her unique connection to the dead—without confessing her dreams—she found herself floundering for an explanation that would satisfy Jake’s skepticism.

“We’ve seen it before,” she said, grasping to find an analytical approach. “Small towns… they have a way of drawing things to them, keeping secrets. Trentville is no different.”

“Don’t you think we need to recap what we’re actually looking for?” Jake suggested, though his question seemed rhetorical, his brow creased with concern for Jenna.

Jenna exhaled deeply, feeling the weight of the search pressing down on her. “I wish I knew, Jake. We need a connection to Trentville, but…” She trailed off, knowing full well that her secret kept her from being truly transparent with her partner.

“Sometimes a hunch is all we have,” she added, hoping to placate his curiosity.

Jake nodded slowly, though his eyes still searched hers for something more. The silence stretched between them, laden with unspoken questions and the weight of countless dead ends.

“Alright, Jenna,” he conceded after a moment, “I trust your instincts. But if we’re missing something…”

She met his gaze squarely, willing him to trust her despite the gaps in her story. In her mind’s eye, she saw Mark again, as vivid as in her dream—a figure standing outside Hank’s Derby, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, a look of confusion etched on his face as the bus pulled away without him. That dream of the man unable to embark on the bus—it was all she had. It was this vision that held her fast to the belief that Mark’s journey had ended here. But how could she explain the inexplicable? How could she justify her instincts when they were woven from the fabric of dreams?

And perhaps she was wrong about what had happened to him.

Although she believed that only the dead appeared in her lucid dreams, could there be some exception she hadn’t recognized? Could it be Mark had simply continued on his journey, disappearing somewhere beyond the borders of Trentville, or maybe not even disappearing at all? Instead, maybe he’d changed names, started a whole new life. She couldn’t imagine why. But of course, if that were true, it would be none of her business, and it would certainly be irrelevant to the case at hand.

But if that were true, then … the very thought made her heart sink. If Mark was actually still alive, then Jenna couldn’t be so certain that Piper was still alive just because she’d never visited one of those dreams.

“Jenna?” Jake’s concern pierced through her reverie, reminding her of the partnership they shared, built on trust—even when understanding eluded them both.

“Sorry,” Jenna muttered, rubbing at her eyes. “Just thinking. Let’s take a real break.”

Jenna pushed away from the desk, stood and stretched, her muscles protesting the long hours of immobility. She walked over to the window and peered out into the night, the town of Trentville bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. It was peaceful, almost idyllic, and for a moment she allowed herself the luxury of considering a different reality—one where disappearances were just stories, and dreams were never prophetic.

“Maybe we’re going about this all wrong,” Jenna spoke aloud, more to herself than to Jake. Perhaps there was no thread connecting Mark Reeves to Trentville, no sinister force snatching souls beneath its homely veneer. And yet…

“So where do we go from here?” Jake asked.

Then two words flashed through her mind, as if lit by neon lights.

“Twilight Inn,” Jenna said abruptly, turning toward Jake, her green eyes alight. The name had been echoing in her mind, a call she could no longer ignore. It was another piece of Trentville’s puzzle that beckoned to her.

“Wait, what?” Jake looked at her sharply.

“The Twilight Inn,” she repeated, “We need to take a look around there.”

The Twilight Inn—a place time seemed to have forgotten, its neon sign flickering like a beacon for weary travelers and lost souls. It sat on the outskirts of town right across the highway from Hank’s Derby, a sentinel watching over the comings and goings of those who sought its refuge.

“Why there?” Jake asked, but Jenna could see the readiness in his posture.

“Frank told me Mark stayed at the Twilight Inn during his visit here,” Jenna clarified, her eyes snapping open with renewed focus. “There’s something there, I can feel it. We need to go now.”

Together, they grabbed their notepads and cell phones and locked up the office. They left the building in silence, their steps synchronized as they descended the stairs. Outside, the night was cool and pleasant, the sky overhead a canvas of stars. Jenna led the way to the cruiser, her mind racing ahead to the Twilight Inn—a place that felt like a scrap of the past clinging to the present. She could almost picture it in the darkness, waiting for them with its untold stories, and perhaps holding the key to the riddle that had consumed so many of Jenna’s waking thoughts.

“Anything I should know before we go poking around there?” Jake asked as they drove, the road stretching out before them like a black ribbon.

“Keep your eyes open,” Jenna said, her hands tight on the wheel. “And trust your gut.”

As the cruiser’s headlights cut through the night, illuminating the path toward the decrepit motel, Jenna felt a shiver run through her body. Whether it was anticipation or foreboding, she couldn’t say. Whatever awaited them at the Twilight Inn, she could only hope that it would bring them closer to the answers she was searching for.