CHAPTER FIVE

The Thompsons’ farmhouse loomed ahead, a silhouette against the dark gray sky. A porch light cast a faint glow on weathered boards that told of harsh winters and relentless summers. After Jenna pulled the car to a stop and shut off the engine, she and Jake got out and made their way up onto the creaky porch.

Jenna rapped firmly on the weather-beaten front door. After a few moments, the door creaked open, revealing a woman whose face showed the hard lines of rural life. Her eyes held a weariness that came from years of looking out onto fields that demanded more than they gave. Strands of gray streaked through her once dark hair, pulled back in a practical bun.

“Mrs. Thompson?” Jenna asked.

“Yes,” the woman replied, her face etched with lines of fatigue, her hair an untamed halo of graying strands around a face that hinted at faded beauty. “I’m Evelyn Thompson.”

“I’m County Sheriff Jenna Graves, and this is Deputy Jake Hawkins. May we come in?” Jenna requested.

Evelyn stood back and gestured toward the hallway, her movements slow.

“What brings you out here at this late hour?” she inquired as they stepped inside. The interior was a time capsule, wallpaper yellowed with age and adorned with patterns of pastoral scenes—an idealized version of the farming life that seemed at odds with the nature of their visit. A television blared from a nearby room.

“Are you Sarah Thompson’s mother?” Jenna asked.

The woman’s expression was a bit wary when she replied, “Yes, I am.”

“Have you heard from your daughter today?”

“Well, no. Why would I?”

Jenna hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Mrs. Thompson,” she began, “we have reason to believe that your daughter, Sarah, has gone missing. She was last seen hiking in Whispering Pines Forest yesterday afternoon and hasn’t been heard from since.”

A flicker of concern crossed Evelyn’s face, her brow furrowing as if trying to decipher a hidden message in Jenna’s words. “Missing?” The mother’s worry was tempered by confusion. “But why come all the way out here to tell me?”

“Because we need to gather any information that might help us find her,” Jake said, his tone gentle.

Evelyn nodded slowly, her eyes clouding over with a distant apprehension, the kind that had settled like dust over the years, undisturbed until now.

“Is… is your husband here?” Jake asked, glancing around as if expecting the farmer to materialize from the shadows.

“Yes, Ralph is right through here.” Evelyn turned and led Jenna and Jake into the adjoining living room.

A threadbare couch sat opposite a bulky, wood-paneled television set, fighting for space among crochet throws and dog-eared magazines. Family photos crowded the available surfaces. Ralph Thompson sat in an oversized armchair, a remote control clutched in one hand like a scepter of sovereignty over his domain. A plaid flannel shirt hung loosely over his lean frame, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with veins like the roots of an old tree.

The glow from the TV flickered across his weathered face, highlighting stark creases made by time and toil. His attention was fixed on the screen, where a game show host conducted his proceedings with exaggerated enthusiasm as contestants shouted and jumped up and down.

“Ralph,” Evelyn’s voice sliced through the tension, “the sheriff and deputy are here. It’s about Sarah.”

Ralph barely glanced at the newcomers. He made no move to mute the volume or acknowledge the possible gravity of the situation that had brought law enforcement to his doorstep.

“Sarah’s gone missing.” Evelyn spoke louder, her voice cutting through the noise to reach her husband.

He scoffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, eyes still locked on the screen as if the fate of his daughter paled in comparison to the outcome of the next question posed by the animated host. “Hardly anything new,” Ralph muttered, the words laced with a bitterness that suggested long-held grievances. “Hope you can find her, though,” he added.

Evelyn sighed, a sound that carried years of frustration, and motioned for Jenna and Jake to follow her to the kitchen. The room was Spartan, functional, with a kettle on the stove that seemed to have served countless cups of tea over decades.

She motioned for them to take a seat at a worn wooden table, its surface marred by generations of use. “I’m sorry about Ralph,” she said, her voice carrying the same weary note as the house itself. “He doesn’t much concern himself with anything… or anyone.”

She gestured as if looking for something to offer them. “I could make tea,” she said uncertainly.

“Thank you, but we won’t be staying long,” Jenna replied. “We just need to fill in some information about your daughter.”

“Ralph mentioned that Sarah’s disappearance wasn’t anything new,” Jake observed, his tone gentle.

Evelyn leaned against the counter. “Yes, well…” She hesitated, her eyes drifting toward the window, where the night had painted everything in shades of uncertainty. “Sarah hasn’t really been… around for years now. Ever since she was little, she always said she wanted to leave, and she did, as soon as she got her diploma from Gildner High. Got herself a degree in education at one of them state colleges. We…” She paused, her throat working against the words. “We didn’t see much of her after that. That was just her way. Sarah always took the road less traveled.”

“Did she come back at all?” Jake prodded gently.

“Once,” Evelyn replied curtly, as if the brevity of her answer could mask the sting of its truth. “Only once, when she moved to Trentville for a teaching position at the elementary school.”

Jenna nodded, picking up on the undertones of that visit. It hadn’t been the warm reunion one might expect. There were no fond memories here, only the echoes of arguments and the chill of estrangement. Jenna sympathized silently; it was a familiarity that resonated deep within her own heart.

“Did she keep in touch with anyone at all in Gildner after she left?” she inquired.

“No.” Evelyn shook her head. “Sarah was a loner through and through. Never one to cling to the past.”

“Wasn’t there any communication at all?” Jenna asked.

“Occasionally we got a postcard, maybe a call on holidays. But it was as if she moved to another world,” Evelyn confided, the lines on her face deepening with the admission. “And we were just ghosts of her past life.”

The revelation settled heavily in the room. Jenna recognized the pattern, the desire to flee, not just from a place but also from memories and expectations. As Jenna observed Evelyn, she could almost feel the tangled web of emotions that enveloped the woman. The aura of resentment toward Sarah for leaving this life behind was palpable, interwoven with threads of envy for the freedoms her daughter had claimed for herself. Jenna understood too well the complexities of such familial dynamics—the silent battles fought over dinner tables, the unspoken accusations that hung in the air like stale smoke.

She also knew that there were no answers to be found in this household.

“Thank you, Mrs. Thompson,” Jenna said. “We won’t trouble you further.”

“I wish there was more I could do,” the woman said. Then, after a short silence, she added, “Please find my girl.”

“Of course, Mrs. Thompson,” Jenna replied.

She signaled to Jake, and they made their way back through the house, leaving the Thompsons and their haunted silences behind. As they stepped outside into the embrace of the late June night, the air was thick with the scent of overgrown grass and the distant promise of rain. Jenna inhaled deeply, feeling the coolness against her skin. As she navigated the patrol car along the gravel road leading away from the Thompsons’ farmhouse, the night air was thick with the scent of summer earth and growing things, so unlike the stifling atmosphere that had hung over the living room where they’d left Ralph Thompson and his game show.

As they drove away from the Thompsons’ house, she flicked on the high beams, and the car’s headlights cut through the dark, illuminating the uneven terrain of the farmstead. Fields of crops stretched out on either side of the road. It was easy to imagine Sarah as a child, running through those fields, dreaming of a life beyond their borders. And easy to imagine her fleeing … disappearing into the darkness.

“Hey,” Jake said softly, his gaze fixed on Jenna as she drove. “You look like you’ve got a storm brewing in your head. What’s going on?”

Jenna felt the question hang in the air, heavy and expectant. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, a physical manifestation of the tension inside her. She knew Jake was observant, but it still surprised her how well he could read her.

“It’s just…” Jenna started, then paused, searching for the right words. “Cases like these, they stir up old feelings. Sarah’s disappearance… it feels personal.”

“Piper,” he said, the name falling between them like a stone.

Jenna exhaled slowly, her eyes fixed on the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

Jake said sympathetically, “I guess it doesn’t help that today’s the anniversary of … well, you know.”

“Yeah, it hits close to home …” She trailed off, weighing her words. “And Evelyn—there’s something about her that reminds me of my mother.”

Jake studied her for a moment, reading the lines of strain. “When are you going to try to fix things with your mom?” he asked gently, though a hint of challenge also laced his tone.

“Ironically, I was thinking about visiting her tonight,” Jenna admitted. “I tell myself that every morning. But then, there’s always something…” She glanced at the clock on the dash. “It’s too late to visit her now. And she’s probably been drinking by this point.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Jake offered, but they both knew it was an empty suggestion—one often repeated and seldom acted upon.

“Let’s just focus on finding Sarah,” Jenna finally said, the resolution in her voice mixed with an undercurrent of something else—fear, perhaps. She pressed her lips together. She gripped the steering wheel tighter, as if the act could keep her anchored in the present.

The ride back was spent in contemplation, the occasional flare of headlights from an oncoming vehicle offering brief illumination before they were once again enveloped in the darkness. Jenna’s thoughts turned from her mother to the case at hand, to Sarah Thompson, whose life seemed to be a puzzle with pieces scattered across Genesius County. But she knew that Sarah’s disappearance was more than a case; it was a mirror reflecting the fractures in her own life.

As they entered the sleepy town of Trentville, the streets were quiet, the storefronts darkened, and the courthouse clock tower stood sentinel over the slumbering city. The familiar storefronts and houses passed by in a blur. It was a typical small town that might have appeared peaceful to any passerby, but Jenna knew better. Beneath its tranquil exterior lay secrets and stories that only someone like her could unravel. She pulled the patrol car into the lot at the Genesius County Sheriff’s Office, where Jake had left his own vehicle.

“Hard to believe it’s the same place where we chased down a noisy parrot just this morning, isn’t it?” Jenna remarked.

Jake turned toward her from his position at the passenger door. “Yeah, it seems weird now,” he replied with a grin. “But try not to worry too much about Sarah. We’ll get a break in the case tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” Jenna murmured almost inaudibly.

Jake pushed open the door and stepped out. He paused for a moment before turning back to Jenna.

“You look tired,” he said gently. “Take care of yourself. Get some sleep.”

“Sure, I … will …” she stammered.

“Goodnight, Jenna.” His farewell hung in the air between them as he shut the car door and walked away into the encroaching darkness.

Jenna’s eyes followed him. They had worked together closely and seamlessly, but was she right in sensing a different energy between them? Could there be something more than just friendship in his words?

As he reached his own car, Jake turned and called out. “You and me, we’ve got this, Jenna. Sarah isn’t going to turn into another Piper.”

Jenna realized how much Sarah’s story had opened a door to memories that were usually kept locked away, and the flood threatened to overwhelm her senses. She hoped Jake was right, that her doubts were just the rawness this case brought to her own unhealed scars.

But she was afraid that things were only going to turn uglier.