CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

As Jenna parked the cruiser in front of the small, dignified brick structure that held the Trentville Public Library, she adjusted her sheriff’s badge and ran a hand through her short chestnut hair. “Jake, I need you to stay put,” she said, her voice firm as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “I have to do this alone.”

“That would be crazy, Jenna,” Jake replied sharply, “It’s not safe.”

She met his gaze steadily. “It’s a public place, Jake. Emily won’t try anything there. Besides, we don’t even know for sure …”

Her voice faded just as she was about to say they didn’t even know whether Emily was guilty of murder. Whatever doubts she might still harbor, she knew that Jake was certain of Emily’s guilt, and there was no point in arguing about it, much less any time for that.

Jake shook his head, his sandy hair catching the light. “You’re not going in without backup. I don’t care if you outrank me, I’m going in too.”

They locked eyes, a silent battle of wills taking place. Jenna understood his concern. She even appreciated his desire to protect her. But she felt there was something deeply personal about this confrontation with Emily—someone who had been a part of her childhood, someone who had led both her and her lost sister into stories that reached way beyond this small-town life.

But she saw clearly that Jake was not going to give in.

“Okay,” she conceded after a tense moment, “you can come in. But give me space. I’ll signal if I need you.” It was a compromise, but one she could live with.

“Fine,” Jake agreed reluctantly, his broad shoulders relaxing slightly now that he knew he’d be close by.

“Remember,” she reminded him as they approached the entrance, “this is delicate. Emily trusts me. I might be able to get her to talk to me, or at least get her to give something away about where Sarah is hidden. So give me space.”

“Understood,” Jake muttered, although the set of his jaw suggested his compliance was purely for her benefit.

They entered the library, the scent of books and polished wood greeting them like an old friend. Subdued light filtered through the tall windows, casting the interior in a quiet glow that seemed at odds with the turmoil brewing in Jenna. She took a breath, steeling herself for whatever was to come.

She saw no sign of the librarian, and only one other person was in sight. At the checkout desk, an impatient patron tapped the bell. The woman glanced up at Jenna, her brow creased in confusion. “Have you seen Emily?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “It’s not like her to just disappear.”

“Emily’s…indisposed at the moment,” Jenna replied, offering no further explanation. “I’m afraid you’ll have to come back later.”

“But I wanted to check out—”

“Just go ahead and take it,” Jenna told her. “It will be all right if you leave a note.”

Looking confused, the woman scribbled something on a piece of paper and hurried away with her book.

“Let’s split up,” she said to Jake, her voice barely rising above the sacred silence of the library. “You need to keep out of sight if I’m going to get her to open up.”

“Got it,” Jake replied, nodding once before moving off toward the nonfiction area, looking just like an ordinary library patron casually scanning labels on the nearest selections.

Jenna moved deeper into the library, her footsteps muted against the carpeted floor. The familiar tall shelves loomed around her, filled with both true and made-up tales that had helped shape her life. Today, they felt more like witnesses to an impending revelation that could shatter the small-town aura of Trentville forever.

The building was quiet, the air still. It felt almost suffocating to Jenna as she walked amongst the towering bookcases. Silence reigned supreme, a sacred rule unbroken even by the soft echo of her footsteps. Her eyes scanned the aisles, searching for any sign of Emily, but the librarian was nowhere to be seen.

The rows of books were silent observers, their spines rigid with secrets. Each title Jenna’s gaze flitted over seemed to hold a hidden message, a story that could unravel the mystery she was desperately trying to solve. But they remained mute.

Jenna paused, feeling the weight of years spent within these walls; this place had been a sanctuary of stories and dreams, a retreat from the harsh reality that had taken her sister all those years ago. Now, it loomed over her, its shadows stretching out like specters, transforming the familiar into something far more sinister.

As she passed by the children’s section, colorful covers and illustrations appeared dulled, their vibrancy leached away by the morning’s revelations. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of thoughts that might have clouded her judgment. Emily couldn’t be the monster they were looking for, could she?

Whatever the truth was, Jenna reminded herself, it was her job to find out.

When she reached Emily’s office, she knocked on the door. There was no answer, so she pushed it open. The book-lined shelves, the meticulously organized desk—everything was in its place except for the librarian herself. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, nothing hinted at where Emily might be or what had happened to her.

Turning away, Jenna made her way to the ladies’ room, pushing open the door with a similar trepidation. The silence that followed was answer enough; Emily wasn’t there either. A pang of frustration twisted in Jenna’s chest. Where could the librarian be?

At the back end of the library, she encountered a heavy closed door, one that she thought led to a part of the building she had never visited. She approached that door and knocked sharply.

“Emily?” she called out, but there was no response.

Jenna pushed that door open and was facing a dimly lit corridor, with another heavy closed door at the far end. It was then that she heard it—a loud bump, heavy and hollow, as if something—or someone—had collided with a solid object.

Instinctively, Jenna froze, listening. Muffled noises—a scuffling, perhaps the faintest echo of a whimper?

She hurried to the second door and called out, “Emily, this is Jenna Graves. I’m coming in.”

When she flung that door open, Jenna faced only darkness, but heard the unmistakable clatter of footsteps ascending stairs rapidly. Emily Carson burst forth from the blackness beyond, her silhouette framed by the void of the unlit basement.

“Jenna,” Emily gasped, her words tumbling out in a disoriented jumble. “I didn’t know you were here. I—I was just—”

“Stay back, Emily,” Jenna said as she reached for a light switch she saw on the wall. “I need to see what’s down there.” Jenna’s command was authoritative, devoid of the warmth once shared between the two women over many years of friendship.

As Jenna reached for that light switch, she was surprised by a sudden, powerful grip on her shoulder. It spun her around with surprising force, slamming her back against the cold corridor wall.

Emily was no longer the familiar face of Trentville’s literary guardian—the woman who had nurtured Jenna’s childhood curiosity with books and stories. Now, the librarian loomed with a predatory intensity that seemed alien.

“Jenna, you shouldn’t have come here,” Emily whispered, her breath hot against Jenna’s skin.

The glint of steel flashed before Jenna’s eyes as a utility knife appeared in Emily’s unwavering grip. The blade hovered at Jenna’s throat, its presence a chilling reality that Jenna could neither deny nor ignore. She had been foolish to doubt the librarian’s guilt, to give her the opportunity to strike back.

Jenna’s heart raced, but her training kicked in, keeping panic at bay. The shock of betrayal from someone she had known since grade school was secondary to the immediate threat. She found that the librarian’s strength was formidable, a fact Jenna had overlooked. Now, she felt the full gravity of Emily’s desperation. Her hand moved toward her pistol, but she didn’t draw it.

“Emily, this isn’t you,” Jenna said, trying to reach whatever part of the librarian that might still be reasoned with. “Please, put the knife down.” But she could see that her words were futile.

With a swift calculation and efficiency, Jenna shifted her weight, feigning weakness. Emily leaned in, perhaps sensing victory, but Jenna was setting her trap. With a sudden drop of her center of gravity, Jenna executed a trip maneuver, swinging her leg to catch Emily off-balance.

Emily toppled with an unceremonious grunt, the knife clattering away from her desperate grasp. Before Emily could recover, Jenna was upon her, handcuffs drawn. She snapped them shut around Emily’s wrists with practiced ease, her movements automatic, even as her heart pounded in disbelief. This was Emily Carson, the librarian who had once been a childhood anchor, now a suspect in chains.

“Jenna!” Jake’s voice cut through the charged silence as he skidded into view, his eyes wide with alarm and his posture ready for conflict. He took in the scene in milliseconds—the disheveled librarian on the floor, Jenna’s authoritative stance—and moved to assist without hesitation.

“Take her,” Jenna commanded tersely, already turning toward the ominous door that Emily had so hastily exited. “Read her rights and secure her.”

Jake nodded, his expression set in grim determination as he complied. Jenna didn’t wait to see the outcome; she had another life to save.

She flicked on that light switch, revealing the steep descent into the dim space below. As she made her way down, she saw what she had both hoped for and feared. At the bottom of the stairs lay the figure of Sarah Thompson, silent and motionless.

“Sarah!” Jenna called out, her voice echoing against the walls as she descended the steps two at a time.

Reaching the bottom, Jenna knelt beside the young woman, her hands checking her throat gently for a pulse. The moan that escaped Sarah’s parched lips was faint, yet it resonated with relief. For a fleeting moment, Jenna allowed herself the comfort of hope. There was life here to be saved.

“Sarah, you’re safe now,” Jenna assured her, her tone firm, projecting the confidence she hoped would soothe the victim’s frayed nerves. Jenna’s hands were steady as she stroked Sarah’s head. “You’re going to be all right.”

Sarah’s eyes flickered open, meeting Jenna’s gaze. There was recognition, then disbelief, as if the promise of safety was too fragile to grasp. Jenna watched the myriad emotions dance across Sarah’s face, her own heart pounding not just from adrenaline but also from a deep-rooted empathy. She had seen this look before—the expression of someone who had glimpsed the abyss and was now desperately seeking the light.

She pulled out her phone to add an ambulance to whatever help Jake might have already called for.

“Help is on the way,” Jenna said as she carefully checked Sarah’s still-chained wrists, noting the angry red marks but no tears. Her fingers worked deftly to assess for any fractures or deeper injuries, her touch as reassuring as the words she spoke.

As Jenna maintained her professional composure, part of her couldn’t help but connect this moment to her own unresolved past. The drive that had compelled her to become sheriff, to save others in a way she couldn’t save Piper, was strong. But Jenna channeled it into the task at hand, and sometimes—like right now—she won the battle.