CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jenna led the way as she and Jake left the dimly lit parking lot of the Twilight Inn. Across the road, Hank’s Derby beckoned them with its warm glow. When they pushed through the door of the truck stop café, the familiar clang of the entrance bell noted their arrival. With a checkerboard floor, red vinyl booths, and a counter lined with chrome-edged stools, it was a place that seemed untouched by time, much like Trentville itself.

They slid into a booth, and Jenna signaled to the waitress. Although hours had passed since their burgers back at the office, neither of them felt like having a full meal. The waitress set two coffees before them and took their orders for slices of apple pie.

Jenna observed Jake as he settled into the booth, his posture relaxed. Maybe this would be as good a time as any, she thought.

“Jake,” she began, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

He leaned forward to listen, but now that the moment was here, Jenna found herself unsure where to start. At the very beginning, she decided.

“Have you ever heard of lucid dreaming?” she asked.

Jake shook his head, confusion knitting his brows together. “Can’t say that I have. The words sound contradictory.”

“It’s a state of dreaming where you’re aware that you’re dreaming,” Jenna began, her tone clinical, detached. “You can often control the dream, make decisions in it without waking up. It’s a scientifically recognized phenomenon, nothing supernatural about it, in and of itself.”

Jake leaned back in the booth, intrigued by the turn the conversation had taken. “So, are you saying you can do this? Lucid dream?”

“I do. Frequently. Ever since Piper vanished…” Jenna hesitated, glancing away for a moment, collecting herself before she continued.

“That’s … sort of interesting, I guess,” he muttered.

Jenna almost regretted opening this door, but secrets were heavy burdens, and Jake had become more than just a deputy to her. He deserved the truth.

“But there’s more you need to know,” she told him, “about my lucid dreams.”

She saw that he was waiting for her to explain, so she blurted, “Sometimes, I’m visited by the dead.”

“Visited?” he echoed, his voice a notch lower than usual.

“Not in the way you might think—not voices echoing from beyond or anything quite so dramatic. It’s through those dreams, lucid dreams, where I can interact with them, ask questions.”

When he made no reply but just sat there looking skeptical, Jenna continued, “Take the night before last. My father came to see me in a dream. He didn’t say much, nothing really that made sense or seemed relevant. But it was definitely him.”

His eyes studied her silently. “Your dad?” he finally asked. “And you think these visitations are… real?”

The waitress arrived, placing the plates in front of them, but Jenna barely registered their presence. She drew in a deep breath, fortifying her will to continue. After the waitress said some cheerful words and went on her way, Jake silently urged Jenna on with a nod.

“Yes, they are real,” she replied to his question, her eyes not wavering. “They come to me, communicate things… It’s unpredictable and always cryptic, but it happens.”

Silence settled over them as Jenna watched Jake process her words. She saw the gears turning behind his eyes, saw a momentary flicker of understanding before it vanished.

“Jake?” Jenna prodded gently after a moment, breaking the silence that had stretched a little too long. “I need you to say something. Anything.”

“How does it work?” he asked with a frown.

Jenna pushed her pie aside, its sweetness forgotten in the gravity of the moment. She watched Jake trying to reconcile what he knew of her as a sheriff with this stranger who spoke with the dead.

She chose her words carefully. “You know we’ve reached dead ends sometimes, only to find a breakthrough after I’ve slept on it. Literally.” She offered a wry smile, hoping to lighten the gravity of her revelation. “It’s like having an extra tool in my kit.”

“You mean to tell me those weren’t just great hunches? Are you saying these dreams actually help you solve cases?” His voice was low as he attempted to understand.

“Yes,” Jenna affirmed. “It’s how we cracked the Shannon Mine case.”

“I always wondered how you zeroed in on that place. It was like you had a map no one else could read.”

Jenna’s lips pressed together briefly before she responded. “I didn’t have a map, Jake. But something… someone… gave me directions.”

“Someone?” he repeated, leaning forward, elbows on the table.

“Someone who wasn’t alive,” Jenna clarified softly. “A miner, long since dead, came to me in a dream. He wore an old-fashioned helmet with a dim lamp, face smeared with coal dust… I could feel the chill of the underground air he brought with him.”

Jake’s expression was unreadable. “You’re saying a ghost led you to the stolen goods?”

“No, not directly,” Jenna replied, taking a small sip of her coffee to buy time to make sure her next words were as clear and concise as possible. “The dead don’t just hand over information. They communicate… differently. Sometimes in riddles, impressions, feelings that I have to interpret.”

She watched Jake process this, noting the slight tension in his jaw, the way his fingers wrapped tightly around his mug. He was grappling with the thought of reality being broader than what could be seen or touched—or else the possibility that his friend and partner was insane.

“Then how did you know where to find the goods?” he asked.

“The miner didn’t tell me outright,” Jenna explained. “He just kept making gestures I had to interpret.”

Jake’s head shook in disbelief, a wry smile barely masking the storm of emotions she knew were brewing inside him. “Am I dreaming right now?” His tone held an edge of incredulity that made Jenna flinch.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Jenna began, sensing Jake’s skepticism like a heavy fog.

A low whistle escaped Jake, mingling with the scent of coffee and pie, his disbelief palpable. “That’s putting it mildly,” he muttered, frustration evident as he raked a hand through his sandy hair.

“Please say you believe me,” Jenna implored, desperation creeping into her voice.

“Jenna, I’m—I’m trying,” Jake stammered, his attempt at understanding overshadowed by mounting frustration. “I’m trying to get my head around this.”

“You must think I’m crazy,” Jenna whispered, her voice tinged with regret.

“I didn’t say that,” Jake snapped, his patience wearing thin.

A silence fell between them. Jenna knew that it was taking all of Jake’s self-control—and all his kindness—not to explode into a tirade of disbelief, or of skepticism at the very least.

“Okay,” Jake finally said. “So, what does this mean for our work? For example, the case we have now, Sarah Thompson, or even Mark Reeves?”

“Last night,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt, “Mark Reeves came to me in a dream.”

Jake leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued despite the doubts that still lingered.

“He was waiting for a bus just outside, right there.” Jenna gestured toward the window beside their booth. “But when the bus arrived…he couldn’t get on.”

The weight of the moment settled between them, and Jenna could see Jake processing, trying to fit this piece into the puzzle.

“I believe the dream is a clue,” she continued. “He wanted to be on his way, but he couldn’t leave. It suggests that Mark’s life might have ended right here.”

“Does that dream seem to prove to you that Mark’s disappearance is connected to Sarah’s?” he asked, not dismissing her outright—a response Jenna counted as a win given the circumstances.

“Perhaps not directly,” Jenna admitted, her voice dropping as she leaned closer, “but it’s a pattern. And patterns are the language of investigation.”

A heavy silence descended between them again, like a thick fog rolling over the Ozarks. Jake seemed to be working to absorb the information, his eyes still reflecting concern.

“Does anyone else know about this… gift of yours?” he finally asked.

Jenna hesitated, looking away toward the dark outline of the Ozark Plateau. “Frank knows,” she admitted. “He’s the only one. I talked to him about my recent dream, and he recognized my description as a man he’d met ten years ago, an aspiring writer named Mark Reeves.”

“And I guess you told the librarian, too? When you got her to check out the records?”

“No, I just asked her to help me look up Mark Reeves.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asked, his tone revealing a sense of betrayal. His features reflected a quiet hurt, the kind that came from unexpected exclusion. “Is there some reason you didn’t trust me with this?”

Jenna met his gaze, her green eyes reflecting the pale light. “I was worried,” she confessed. “Worried you’d see me differently. That it might change things between us.”

“Wouldn’t that be my call to make?” Jake pressed, his shoulders tense.

“Perhaps,” Jenna conceded, feeling the weight of her decision. “But Jake, you have to understand—I couldn’t risk losing your trust. Not when we’ve come so far together.”

Jake looked down at his empty pie plate. “Yeah, I get it,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “It’s just… surprising, is all. And I … well, I still don’t know what to think.”

He set his fork down with a click, pushing the plate away. “I guess you were right to worry,” he said, his voice carrying an edge of something Jenna couldn’t quite define. It was disappointment, maybe, or the echo of a trust strained almost to breaking. “I just… I don’t know where this leaves us. As a team. As friends.”

Her heart sank. The hurt in his words was unmistakable, and it mirrored the ache in her own chest. She had hoped for understanding, for acceptance, but she hadn’t been naive enough to expect it. “I can’t blame you for how you feel,” she said quietly. They finished their coffee in silence, the warmth from the mugs doing nothing to thaw the chill that had settled over them.

The diner’s clock ticked on, marking time that seemed to stretch and warp around them, until Jake finally broke the quiet. “What’s our next step with our current case, then?” His question was practical and grounding, pulling them back to the reality they were tangled in.

“We still have a lot of unanswered questions,” she replied. “A lot of ordinary investigation to do.”

Jake nodded slowly as if that alone lent some solidity to the shaken ground beneath their partnership. It was a small comfort to Jenna, a reminder that even when personal understanding faltered, the resolve to seek justice remained unbroken.

They rose from the booth, leaving behind his empty plate and her nibbled-at pie, the remnants of a conversation that would linger long after the flavors had faded. With the bill paid, Jenna led the way out of Hank’s Derby into the cool night air of Trentville. A huge truck rumbled away from the gas pumps, then everything was silent around them.

Back in the Twilight Inn parking lot, Jenna’s fingers fumbled with the keys before she could unlock the car and get it started. Jake settled into the passenger seat, sitting there stiffly. The drive was silent, except for the soft murmur of the car gliding over asphalt. Jenna’s mind churned. A partnership once grounded in unspoken understanding now teetered on the brink of uncertainty, and she thought she could feel the distance between them growing.

As she navigated the quiet streets of Trentville toward headquarters, where Jake’s car was still parked, a sense of trepidation settled over her. She knew that revealing her secret—a truth she had held close for years—had altered something fundamental. It wasn’t just the look of skepticism that had flickered across Jake’s face or the heavy silence that followed; it was the knowledge that she had unveiled a part of herself that couldn’t be unseen or forgotten.

Each turn brought them closer to headquarters, and with it, the end of their journey for the night. Finally, breaking the silence like a crack through ice, Jake spoke. “Jenna, has Piper ever come to you in a dream?” His voice was hesitant, almost fearful of the answer.

Jenna felt her heart skip a beat. She swallowed hard before responding, her voice soft. “No,” she admitted. “And that’s one reason why I still hold out hope that she’s alive.”

“Because if she was… gone, you’d know,” Jake finished for her, his tone now more understanding, yet filled with a profound sadness. Jenna nodded, eyes never leaving the road, yet seeing so much more than the path ahead. In the silence that followed, Jenna could almost hear the echo of her sister’s laughter, a sound that had once filled their shared childhood room. She clung to the belief that the absence of Piper in her dreams meant something—that her twin was still alive somewhere.

Jenna glanced sideways at Jake, trying to gauge his feelings. She needed him, not just as her deputy, but as the steadfast friend who had always been by her side.

Jake got out of the car with a grim smile and only brief words. “Goodnight, Jenna.” She sat there watching him go to his car and drive away.

Something vital had changed tonight. Jenna had revealed her soul’s hidden corners to someone she trusted, yet now she had to wait to discover the consequences.

Although Jake hadn’t said so, she knew he still didn’t quite believe her. Maybe he thought she was out of her mind—a thought which sometimes occurred even to her. Would Jake ever look at her the same way? Could he accept this part of her, or would it forever be a barrier between them?