CHAPTER FOUR

Jenna let out a slow, deliberate breath as she leaned against the rough bark of an ancient pine. The musky scent of earth and decay mingled with the metallic tang of her own sweat as she wiped a smear of dirt from her cheek. She could feel every thorn scratch and bramble snag like badges of futility on her skin.

She glanced at Jake; he caught her look and offered a cautious smile.

“Maybe the others had better luck,” he muttered.

“Let’s hope,” she said.

The forest around them was a living entity—whispering leaves, chattering wildlife, the occasional creak and groan of ancient wood flexing in the wind. It was easy to imagine how it got its name, Whispering Pines; nature’s voices were all too eager to fill the silence left by missing human ones. The shadows were lengthening now as the sun began to dip in the sky.

“Team report.” Billy’s voice broke through the silence, accompanied by radio static. “Find anything?”

One by one, the responses crackled in over the radio, each deputy ranger’s voice uniform in its discouragement. “Negative,” they said, the word repeated like a curse.

“Graves, Hawkins, status?” Billy’s voice cut through the chorus.

“Negative,” Jenna confirmed, her voice steady even as her heart sank a little further.

“Copy that.” There was a pause on Billy’s end, a moment of heavy silence before he continued. “Alright, let’s head back to the station. Regroup and figure out our next move.”

“Ten-four,” Jenna responded. As she and Jake made their way back through the forest, her thoughts churned with the possibilities, each more disheartening than the last. Abduction, an accident, animal attack, something else entirely—each scenario seemed equally plausible and impossible at once. They’d been searching for hours, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something they were missing, some vital clue that lay just beyond their understanding.

When they neared the ranger’s station, Jenna paused, letting her eyes sweep across the familiar facade, the flag hanging limp on its pole, the windows reflecting the late afternoon light. Then she squared her shoulders and stepped forward, pushing at the door. Jake held it open as they both stepped inside.

The air in the wooden building was stale, tinged with the scent of pine cleaner and old coffee. Billy’s three deputies, young and weather-beaten, were gathered around a worktable, their faces marked with frustration. They had all scoured the woods for hours only to come away with empty hands and heavy hearts.

“So we’ve got nothing at all?” Jenna asked automatically, though the set of their shoulders already told her the answer.

“Nothing,” Billy Schmitt replied, shaking his head. “No blood, no torn clothing. It’s like she just vanished. At least we didn’t find a body.”

A map of the forest was spread across the scratched surface of the worktable. They all leaned over it.

“Here’s where we found Sarah’s car,” Billy said, tapping a spot on the map. “We’ve covered these areas on foot.” His finger traced the sections they’d searched, marked with neat crosshatches. “The drones have found no sign of her either.”

“If she went off-trail, there are miles of dense forest she could be lost in,” Jake observed.

“Or hiding in,” one deputy ranger offered, though the suggestion was ignored by the rest in the room.

“Or was taken,” Jake added, folding his arms across his chest.

“Abduction?” Billy’s voice conveyed his reluctance to entertain the idea. “In my years here, we’ve never—”

“Times change, Billy,” Jenna cut in. She fixed her eyes on the map spread out on the table. “We can’t rule it out.”

“Alright,” Billy conceded, rubbing the back of his neck. “So where does that leave us?”

They took a few minutes to trace the paths marked on the map, the ones they had searched and the ones that might be a potential escape route if Sarah had indeed been taken against her will. They found no answers, and the silence that followed felt heavy, laden with unspoken fears.

“Okay.” Billy’s voice was resolute despite the fatigue etched in the lines around his eyes. “We’ve done all we can out here on foot for today. This forest canopy is too thick for helicopters to be of much use. Tonight, we’ll put up the drones in a pattern of passes that will spot anything like a campfire or even a flashlight. My deputies and I will go again at first light tomorrow. We’ll expand the search grid. We’ll keep searching all day. No stone unturned.” He scanned his team, seeing affirmation in their nodding heads.

“But we also need to consider expanding the search perimeter beyond Whispering Pines,” Jenna said firmly. “Set up roadblocks, notify local law enforcement, get descriptions out to the public. Jake and I will contact the State Highway Patrol for assistance. We need all hands on this.”

“I hate to think she might still be in my forest somewhere,” Billy said with a shake of his head. “I wish I could do more.”

“You did everything you could today,” Jenna told him. “Thanks for moving so fast.”

“We’ll do better tomorrow,” he replied, rubbing his chin.

Jenna thought of the missing woman’s parents on their farm near Gildner, unaware of the storm that was about to break over them.

“Jake,” she said, “we need to go talk to Sarah’s parents now. They should hear about this from us first.” It was a duty she dreaded, yet one she would not shirk.

He met her gaze squarely. “I’m with you, Jenna. Bea mentioned they’re on a farm near Gildner, right?”

“That’s right,” Jenna said, handing him the jotted down address. “She also gave us the location. Let’s get going.”

Under the canopy of trees, darkness enveloped them as they approached their squad car at the edge of the lot. As Jenna slid into the driver’s seat, her mind wandered to Piper, her absence now amplified by the recent disappearance of another young woman. For a long moment, she just sat there, the silence thick and heavy, like a dense fog settling over her thoughts.

Jake’s voice from the passenger seat brought her attention back as he asked, “Do you think there’s any chance that Sarah just got lost?” There was a hopeful lilt to his question, something Jenna wished she could cling to.

“I can’t deny the possibility,” she answered, her voice tinged with doubt. “But my instincts tell me otherwise. And they’re not often wrong. We need to inform Colonel Spelling,” she added as she started the engine and headed the car down the dark, winding road through the forest.

“On it,” Jake said.

Jake reached for the radio handset, dialing the frequency for the Missouri State Highway Patrol. “Colonel Spelling, this is Deputy Hawkins with Genesius County Sheriff’s Office.”

“Go ahead, Deputy,” came the crisp reply over the speakerphone.

“We need to initiate an APB and a public announcement regarding a missing person—a young woman named Sarah Thompson.”

“Can you provide a description?” Colonel Spelling’s voice was crisp over the speakerphone, all business.

“Sarah’s in her mid-twenties,” Jenna began, recalling the spirited woman she had met at a school function not too long ago. “About five-foot-six, with shoulder-length blonde hair. She has blue eyes and was last seen wearing hiking gear.”

She paused for a moment, letting the details settle in the air between them. Then she added, “You can pull up a photograph of her from the Trentville Elementary School’s website. She’s a teacher there.”

“Understood, Sheriff Graves. We’ll disseminate the information immediately. Keep me informed of any developments.”

The drive toward Gildner felt longer than Jenna knew it to be. As she drove, her mind grappled with strategies, how to deliver news that would inevitably tear at the seams of the Thompsons’ reality. Would they hold onto hope or succumb to fear? Would they look to her for answers she didn’t have? After all, she knew too well the torment of uncertainty, the hollow space left by a missing loved one.

“We’ll find her, Jenna,” Jake said, breaking into her troubled reverie. “We’re not giving up.”

His words were meant to comfort, but they both knew the truth was more complicated.

“First, we deal with tonight,” she murmured, her resolve solidifying. “Then we figure out the best way to keep looking.”

As the stars blinked to life above, Jenna Graves drove on, the weight of her duty pressing down on her. They were not just deputies enforcing the law; they were bearers of bad news, a role that never got easier with time. The silence in the car was thick, broken only by the sound of the engine and the occasional crackle of the radio.

A deer darted across the road, and Jenna tapped the brakes, causing the creature to freeze in the headlights before bounding off into the forest. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened— a reflex born of countless nights spent chasing phantoms and echoes in her mind.

“Sometimes I envy animals,” Jenna mused aloud. “They don’t get tangled up in things like this.”

“Maybe not,” Jake replied. “But they also don’t solve mysteries or save lives.”

“True,” Jenna conceded, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

As they approached the outskirts of Gildner, Jenna’s thoughts turned inward, focusing on the task ahead. The necessity of bearing bad news to another set of parents was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was one she hoped to fulfill with compassion and strength.

Jenna’s thoughts were turbulent, churning like the storm clouds that so often loomed beyond the distant hills. If Sarah Thompson was still alive, she might be in great danger—a realization that settled heavy in Jenna’s chest, sinking like a stone in still water. Each passing second, each mile they covered, the weight of urgency grew. Time was a relentless adversary, always ticking forward, indifferent to the fates it sealed.

Her jaw clenched as she navigated a bend in the road, the car’s headlights cutting through the dusk. A part of her wondered if this was how it had been for those who searched for her sister—this maddening blend of hope and helplessness. But Jenna was no longer the helpless teenager she had been; she was the sheriff, the hunter, the seeker.

Glancing briefly at Jake, she was grateful to have this silent ally, his resolve mirroring her own.

As they neared the outskirts of Gildner, Jenna’s senses sharpened. The town was small, its heartbeat slow but steady. The farmland stretched out all around it, vast and open, completely unlike the dense woods they had combed through earlier. Here, secrets seemed impossible to keep, and yet Jenna knew better than most how deceptive such appearances could be.

Following Jake’s directions, she turned the car onto a winding gravel road that crunched and popped beneath the wheels, signaling their approach to the Thompsons’ farm. The jagged rocks and loose pebbles created a bumpy ride, jostling the car and causing loose objects to rattle against each other. The slight discomfort seemed somehow appropriate. They were about to shatter the peace of a family’s evening with the kind of news that left scars on souls. She imagined the Thompsons going about their evening routine, unaware of the pain heading their way. It was a scene Jenna knew all too well—the calm before life as one knows it shatters.

Her emerald eyes now reflected a more somber resolve. This was more than a job; it was a personal covenant etched into the core of who she was—a vow to those taken too soon from the world they knew. This was more than a search for a missing hiker; it was a battle against time, against the unknown.

“Jenna.” Jake’s voice broke through the quiet, his hand reaching out to rest briefly on her arm, a silent gesture of solidarity. “We’ll find her.”

The affirmation was simple, yet it carried the weight of an unspoken oath shared by two people who had come to understand the fragility of life in their line of duty. Jenna nodded, steeling herself against the encroaching fear, the specter of loss that loomed over Genesius County and, indeed, over her own heart. She exhaled slowly, attempting to quell the rising tide of anxiety. The moment they would have to knock on the Thompsons’ door and deliver news of their missing daughter was just ahead, an inevitable confrontation with fear and despair.