CHAPTER THREE

“Come inside, Bea,” Jenna said. “We’ll talk in my office.”

Bea stepped into the room,

Jenna gestured to a chair, and Bea sank down gratefully. Jake followed close behind, closing the door softly before taking a stance near them.

Jenna poured a glass of water from the pitcher on her desk and gave it to Bea, who took it with trembling hands. “Thank you,” Bea said softly, her voice barely audible above the hum of the outdated air-conditioning unit wedged into a window.

“Take your time,” Jenna said as she pulled up a chair close to Bea. She studied her visitor—an image of vulnerability wearing a waitress’s uniform, her apron bearing the logo of the local diner where she worked.

“Sarah didn’t come home last night,” Bea finally said, skipping formalities, her eyes not leaving the glass in her hands. “Sarah Thompson, I mean.”

Jenna’s mind sharpened at the mention of Sarah Thompson, who had arrived here in Trentville around five or six years ago—the young schoolteacher whose smile had become familiar at the town’s gatherings. Jenna clearly recalled the name and face of one of Trentville’s newest residents.

Bea’s gaze lifted, revealing red-rimmed eyes that spoke of unshed tears and sleepless worry. “She’s my roommate, and we rent a little house just a block away from the diner. Sarah is so responsible, Sheriff Graves. This isn’t like her.”

“Call me Jenna,” she replied, noting Jake’s subtle nod, sharing the sentiment. It was small-town culture; the titles often felt too heavy for such intimate settings.

“Jenna,” Bea repeated, clinging to the name like a lifeline. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s start from the beginning,” Jenna suggested, reaching for a notepad.

Bea nodded, sipping water as if to brace herself. “Sarah… she went hiking yesterday in Whispering Pines Forest,” Bea finally said, her voice barely audible. “She does that most weekends, just to clear her head, you know? Said she’d be back by nightfall. But I was tired, and I slept soundly. And this morning, I didn’t even notice… not until the phone call came.”

“What phone call?” Jenna asked.

“From the school—she teaches at Trentville Elementary. They wanted to know why she didn’t show up this morning. Then I looked in her bedroom and saw that she was gone.”

Jenna leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. Whispering Pines Forest was wide and dense, stretching out like a green sea just beyond Trentville’s town limits. It was easy for the unprepared or unlucky hiker to get lost.

“Did she have any favorite spots, trails she frequented?” Jenna asked.

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t like hiking, spend too much time on my feet working at the diner. So I’m not really familiar with where she went.” Bea then offered hesitantly, “She sometimes mentioned names like Old Man’s Creek or Eagle’s Perch, but I don’t know about this trip.”

Something in Bea’s tone mirrored a self-reproach that Jenna knew all too well.

“Bea,” she began gently, her gaze softening as she addressed the young woman. “You couldn’t have known she wouldn’t return. You did the right thing coming here as soon as you realized something was wrong.”

Bea blinked back tears, her breath hitching slightly. “I just… I should’ve noticed sooner.”

“Listen,” Jenna continued. “When my sister disappeared, I spent years torturing myself over what I could’ve done differently. But the truth is, we can’t predict these things. We can’t blame ourselves for not seeing the signs when there weren’t any to see.”

“Let’s focus on finding Sarah,” Jake contributed. “Can you think of anything else that might be relevant?”

Bea shook her head silently.

“What about family?” Jake asked.

“Her parents live out on a farm near Gildner. That’s where she grew up. I can give you the address.”

After jotting down the address, Jenna stood.

“We’ll find her,” she said, “and we’ll bring her home.”

Bea’s eyes, red-rimmed and anxious, searched theirs for hope. A tiny nod, almost imperceptible, was her silent thank-you.

“If you think of anything else or hear from Sarah, call us right away,” Jenna instructed.

“I’ll do that,” Bea replied. Then she got to her feet, thanked them, and left.

Jenna glanced at Jake. “Let’s gear up,” she said tersely.

Exiting the building, Jenna squinted under the glare of the midday sun high above Trentville. They moved quickly to their patrol car, the black-and-white vehicle stark against the backdrop of the town’s modest architecture. Jenna slid behind the wheel while Jake settled into the passenger seat.

Soon they were driving the main road through Whispering Pines, dense with evergreens and deciduous trees. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting a dappled pattern on the underbrush that grew thick in places. Through the open car windows, Jenna heard the sounds of a forest alive with nature—rustling foliage, bird calls, and the distant murmur of a creek hidden from view.

“Sarah’s car could be anywhere along these trails,” Jake commented as the patrol car maneuvered along a narrow road, passing trailheads marked with wooden signs. They both had hiked the trails, knew their quirks and hiding spots.

The ranger’s station loomed ahead, a modest, weather-beaten structure that seemed to have grown organically from the forest floor. Jenna parked the patrol car, and they stepped out. The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, and the cicadas sang a relentless chorus that vibrated through the stillness of midday.

As Jenna approached the front door of the station, it swung open, and Ranger Billy Schmitt emerged. He was a sturdy man with a ruddy complexion and hands as rough as the bark on the trees he protected. A faded baseball cap with an official logo sat atop his head, shading a face marked by years spent squinting against the sun. His eyes held a glint of concern.

“Jenna, Jake,” Billy greeted. “What brings you out here?”

“A woman named Sarah Thompson is missing,” Jenna stated plainly. “A schoolteacher at Trentville Elementary. She went hiking yesterday and hasn’t returned. Her roommate, Bea Carter, came to us.”

“Let’s not waste any time then,” Billy said. “Let’s go looking for her.”

He led them to a mud-splattered SUV with the forest service emblem on the side. They all climbed into the vehicle, its interior smelling of leather and the faint, lingering presence of wet dog. Billy turned the key in the ignition, and the engine rumbled to life. Jenna took the passenger seat, her gaze fixed on the tree line as they began to roll down the narrow dirt road that carved through Whispering Pines.

“Any particular trail she might’ve taken?” Billy asked.

“Her roommate didn’t know,” Jenna replied. “She said Sarah had mentioned Old Man’s Creek and Eagle’s Perch, but she didn’t know where she went this time.”

They continued the search, the forest giving nothing away. Ahead, the road forked, and Billy steered them left toward the heart of Whispering Pines, where the underbrush grew thicker, and the terrain became more treacherous. The forest seemed to close in around them. Vines crawled across the ground, ensnaring rocks and fallen branches in their embrace. Ancient trees stood, their knotted roots breaking through the soil like the fingers of giants grasping at the world above.

“Stop the car,” Jenna suddenly said, her eyes locked on a break in the foliage where a small clearing opened up. She couldn’t explain it, but something about the place called to her. She didn’t need to share her intuition with the men; she’d already felt that tug in her gut when they rounded the bend and saw the vehicle.

Billy obliged, bringing his SUV to a gentle halt. They stepped out, the forest enveloping them.

“Looks like we might’ve found her car,” Jake observed, his voice tight with concern.

“Give me a second,” Jenna said, pulling out her phone as she walked toward the car. Quickly, she keyed in the details needed to access the motor vehicle database, tapping in the license plate number.

“Confirmed,” she announced after a moment. “This is Sarah Thompson’s car.”

“Damn,” Jake muttered.

Jenna pocketed her phone, joining the two men as they tried the door and found the car unlocked.

“Nothing looks out of place,” Jake observed. “No signs of a struggle or forced entry.”

“Could be she just went deeper into the woods than she planned,” Billy offered.

Jake nodded, stepping forward to inspect a map that lay on the passenger seat. “She’s marked a common trail. If she stuck to it, she shouldn’t have had any trouble.”

“Let’s get going,” Billy said decisively, turning back to his vehicle. “I’ll radio the deputies to meet us here. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

Billy’s thumb pressed firmly against his radio transmitter, a static crackle slicing through the tension. “Base to Delta One, Two, and Three, converge on my twenty at the Whispering Pines trailhead parking. Over.”

“Copy that, Base,” came the first crisp reply, followed by two more affirmations. The rangers were efficient, their responses quick and clear-cut.

Jenna stepped away from Sarah’s car, under the dense canopy of Whispering Pines. She could feel the forest’s breath—a damp exhale that seemed to murmur with secrets. “Billy, in your experience, what kind of dangers might Sarah have encountered out here?”

Billy Schmitt, his face creased with concern beneath his ranger hat, glanced around at the thick underbrush and towering pines before meeting Jenna’s gaze. “Well, Sheriff, mountain lion incidents are rare in these parts, but …” He hesitated. “My deputies have reported some black bear activity recently.”

“Black bears?” Jake interjected, his protective instincts causing him to scan their surroundings with renewed wariness.

“Yup,” Billy confirmed with a solemn nod. “They’re generally shy creatures, but it’s possible for encounters to turn dangerous, especially if she stumbled upon a mother with cubs.”

The thought of a bear attack sent a shiver through Jenna. It was one thing to confront human malevolence, quite another to be at the mercy of nature’s raw and uncalculating force.

“Could she have gotten lost? Maybe injured herself?” Jenna asked, her eyes searching the forest as if it might yield its secrets to her keen intuition.

“Definitely a possibility,” Billy said, scratching his beard thoughtfully. “This terrain can be treacherous, and an injured hiker could easily go unnoticed.”

“Alright. We need to cover as much ground as possible,” Jenna stated, the leader in her emerging with clear command. “If Sarah is injured, time is against us. Jake, let’s you and I start by following the trail nearest her car. Billy, do you think there are other routes she might’ve taken from where she parked?”

“Several,” Billy replied, his expression grave. “I’ll show you on the map.”

Together, they hunched over the crinkled paper that was now spread across the hood of Billy’s vehicle. Trails snaked like veins across the forest’s heart, each a potential path that Sarah may have walked. Jenna’s finger traced the lines, her mind racing to unlock the pattern that would lead them to the missing hiker.

The rustling sound of tires over gravel announced the arrival of Billy’s deputy rangers. Three sturdy SUVs pulled up, each one driven by a man who bore the same rugged, capable look of their lead ranger. They stepped out, geared up with boots laced tight and radios clipped to their shoulders. Their faces were set with determination; they were the guardians of these woods, familiar with its secrets and prepared to unearth them.

“Everyone, listen up,” Billy commanded, gathering the group with a practiced ease. “We’re looking for Sarah Thompson, missing since yesterday afternoon. She’s a schoolteacher in Trentville and she knows these trails. But we can’t rule out an accident or even foul play. We’ll split into teams, cover the main routes, and then fan out from there.”

“Her roommate said she often went hiking alone,” Jenna added. “Let’s assume she stayed on marked trails, at least to start with.”

“Look for signs of deviation,” Billy instructed. “Broken branches, disturbed ground, footprints, discarded gear, anything Sarah might have left behind.”

He handed out maps and assigned areas to search and directed that they launch a couple of drones to check out any small clearings and overgrown dirt roads.

The group dispersed, each team with a designated leader.

As the deputy rangers faded into the tree line, Jenna turned to Jake, her expression somber. “I have a feeling…” She paused, struggling to articulate the intuitive sense that clamored for attention in her mind. “…we’re not just searching for one missing hiker.”

“What do you mean?” Jake asked. “We haven’t had reports of any other hikers missing out here, have we?”

“Nothing that clear cut.” She struggled to find the right words to convey the intuitive whisper that echoed in her mind.

“One of your gut feelings?” Jake questioned, his face furrowed with confusion.

“More than that,” Jenna admitted. “It’s like a looming sense of unease, as if we’re walking into something much bigger and more complicated than we imagined.”