CHAPTER FOUR
The October morning light slanted through the windshield as Jenna drove along Main Street. The familiar storefronts of Trentville were still shaking off the night, preparing to open for business. When she guided her cruiser past the courthouse, a few county workers were climbing the steps.
Everything looked so normal, as if the world hadn’t shifted beneath her feet yet again. And the voice of her father’s spirit kept echoing in her ear
“We’ve got to find her, Jenna Marie. Before something terrible happens to her”.
The memory of his voice—so clear, so urgent—made her press harder on the accelerator. Then she forced herself to ease up. The Genesius County Sheriff shouldn’t be seen speeding through town unless it was an emergency.
She turned onto Elm Street, where the liquor store sat at the corner. Jenna slowed, then pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine. The “CLOSED” sign still hung in the window and she realized that it wasn’t quite 9:00. Zeke Canfield wouldn’t open for another few minutes.
The thought of talking to Zeke about her mother made her feel awkward. Was she overstepping? Mom had promised she would call him herself. The conversation from a little while ago played back in her mind—Frank’s gentle suggestion that she contact Zeke, her mother’s initial defensiveness.
“You think I need a babysitter? You think I’m going to fall apart and reach for a bottle?”
Mom had relented quickly—or at least she’d said that she would contact Zeke herself after she had a little time alone. But was she really going to do that? Jenna wasn’t sure. And she realized this meant that trust was still a fragile thing between them, even after her mother’s months of sobriety.
“This isn’t about not trusting her,” Jenna said aloud, as if speaking the words might make them more true. “This is about making sure she has support.”
But was it? Was she making a mistake in coming here—a mistake that might damage Mom’s trust not only in her, but in someone who had taken personal responsibility for keeping her sober?
Jenna watched a sparrow hop along the sidewalk, pecking at invisible crumbs.
Then she reached for her phone, scrolling to find another number.
If she was going to be waiting anyway, she could make good use of the time.
There was someone else she needed to talk to about Piper—someone who might have insights into her sister’s state of mind.
Dr. Samantha White’s number was in her contacts.
The psychiatrist had been treating Piper since they’d found her living on Wendell Gillis’s farm and brought her home.
Despite the professional distance Dr. White maintained regarding Piper’s therapy sessions, she’d been a steady, reassuring presence.
If anyone might have a clue about where Piper would go or why she’d leave, it would be her.
Jenna’s thumb hovered over the call button. Was this another boundary she was crossing? No, this was different. Dr. White would understand the urgency. Even so, she hesitated.
Maybe I should wait until after I’ve talked with Zeke …
Through the windshield, she watched an older couple walking their dog along the sidewalk. The man nodded at Jenna as they passed her car, clearly recognizing the sheriff’s vehicle. Jenna managed a small wave in return, her mind already rehearsing what she would say to Dr. White.
Jenna checked the time: 8:56 a.m. Still no sign of Zeke.
She looked back at her phone and made a decision.
She’d call Dr. White first, then speak with Zeke when he opened up.
With Piper missing and the strange lucid dream contact with an unknown woman still tugging at her mind, every minute counted.
She pressed the call button. The phone rang once, twice, three times. On the fourth ring, Dr. White’s voice came through the speaker, clear and measured.
“Sheriff Graves. What can I do for you?”
“Dr. White, I need your help.” Jenna kept her voice steady. “Piper is gone. She left sometime during the night. She took her bicycle. And she took just a few belongings with her.”
“What about her medication?” Dr. White asked.
“She left it at home.”
“That’s not good.”
“Dr. White, I know there are confidentiality issues, but I need to ask—do you have any idea where she might have gone? Anywhere she mentioned feeling safe, or anyone she might try to find?”
The line went quiet for several seconds. Jenna could almost visualize Dr. White sitting in her office, weighing professional ethics against practical concerns.
“I can’t disclose specific details from our sessions,” Dr. White finally said.
“But I can tell you that Piper’s sense of identity has been...
fluid. She had really come to believe her name was Emma Kirby before you brought her home.
The progress we’d made in restoring her identity as Piper Graves is significant but fragile. ”
Jenna closed her eyes. “You think she’s gone back to believing she’s only Emma.”
“It’s possible.” Dr. White’s voice softened. “The voices she hears have been particularly insistent lately. Some of them have been trying to convince her that her life as Piper Graves is a delusion, that her connections to you and your mother aren’t real.”
The familiar frustration rose in Jenna’s throat. “But the connections are real. We’re her family.”
“I know that, and part of Piper knows that too. But these... communications... they can be extraordinarily persuasive. Especially when they play on existing fears and doubts. And she’s been hearing them for so many years.”
“What are you saying, exactly?”
“The voices have become more persistent. And it’s possible that a new voice has been speaking—one that is particularly convincing.
” Dr. White paused again. “This is my speculation, of course, but as I said, she’s been feeling a lot of pressure lately.
They don’t just speak to her, Jenna. They show her things, convince her of threats that may not exist in our reality but are terrifyingly real to her.
Something like a powerful new one would explain a sudden decision to leave. ”
“They’re telling her we’re dangerous to her?”
“Or that she’s dangerous to you,” Dr. White countered.
“That was always her deepest fear—that she would somehow bring harm to those she loves. That didn’t go away completely, even when she began to feel more secure in her identity as Piper.
Allowing herself to be persuaded that you and all her loved ones are imaginary can be a way of coping with that fear. ”
Jenna didn’t know how to reply. She had recognized the progress her sister was making, but hadn’t understood the depth of the problems.
“Sheriff,” Dr. White’s voice took on an unexpected tone, almost hesitant. “I hope you won’t find this question inappropriate, but... have you had any dreams pertinent to Piper’s disappearance?”
The question caught Jenna off guard. It had slipped her mind that she had described her own lucid dreaming gift to the psychiatrist, hoping that it might help explain her sister’s experiences.
“Yes,” Jenna admitted, her voice dropping. “My father came to me. He’s the one who told me Piper was missing, just before Mom called to tell me she was gone.”
“Interesting.” The single word carried layers of meaning. “What exactly did he say?”
“That I needed to find Piper before it was too late.” Jenna swallowed hard. “He seemed... desperate. Afraid for her. He said that he’d be looking for her, too.”
Dr. White was quiet for a long moment. “It seems strange, doesn’t it? A dead person looking for a missing person.” Her voice grew thoughtful. “Perhaps your father will help you find her. Perhaps he’ll have insights that we don’t.”
Before Jenna could respond, her phone beeped with another incoming call. She glanced at the screen: Jake Hawkins.
“Dr. White, I need to take this. It’s my deputy.”
“Of course. Call me if you learn anything new—or if you have any more pertinent dreams. Day or night. I will tell you whatever I can if it seem to be connected.”
Jenna thanked her and started making her way out of the building. As she walked, she switched calls with a swipe of her thumb. “Jake, what have you got?”
Jake’s voice came through, tense and focused. “I’m at Calloway House. I’ve been looking at the scene, and something doesn’t add up. It looks like Donna was on a step ladder in her laundry changing a lightbulb, apparently fell and hit her head on the counter. But here’s the thing—she had a dog.”
Jenna’s pulse quickened. “A dog?”
“Yeah, little terrier mix named Biscuit.”
Biscuit. The name she’d heard in her dream—the woman in darkness had been calling out to a barking dog named Biscuit. And she’d said quite clearly, “I need to find out who did this to me.”
“Then the woman in my dream really was Donna Marsh.” Jenna straightened in her seat. “And this wasn’t an accident. Someone made it look like she fell.”
“That’s what I’m thinking too. The scene is just a little too neat. And why would she get up on a ladder that late, rather than wait till morning then ask her super to change the lightbulb?”
“What are you doing right now?” Jenna asked.
“I was just heading for my car to go back to the station. But I do think there’s more to find out here.”
“We need to be careful, Jake. If we’re dealing with a murder, I don’t want to tip off the killer that we’re suspicious.
And we can’t exactly explain just why we think this is a murder, anyhow.
But you’re right. You should stay there and call Officer Delgado to join you.
Tell everyone it’s routine follow-up. Check the laundry room again—discreetly.
Look for anything out of place, any sign someone might have been hiding there, or that her fall wasn’t an accident, or that she died some other way. ”
“Will do.”
“Thanks Jake. Do you want me to come out to Calloway House, too?”
“No, you keep looking for Piper. Any luck so far?”
“I’m afraid not. I called Dr. White, her therapist. You know how Piper hears voices that try to talk her out of … well, being Piper. Dr. White said that the voices have been more insistent lately, and that a new one might be convincing my sister that she’s Emma Kirby after all.”
Jenna swallowed hard. “Jake, I’m scared,” she said. “I’m afraid we’ve lost her forever. What if—?
Jenna broke off as a silver sedan pulled into a private parking space in front of the liquor store.
A tall, slender man unfolded himself from the driver’s seat, salt-and-pepper hair catching the morning light.
“I’ve got to go. I came to the liquor store to talk with Zeke Canfield, and he just arrived.
I need to talk to him about Mom. She’s in pretty bad shape, and I’m worried … ”
“That she’ll have a relapse?” Jake asked.
“Yeah. I’m not sure whether I’m overstepping my bounds, reaching out to him behind her back, but …”
“You’re doing the right thing,” Jake said. “If there’s ever been a threat to your mother’s sobriety, Piper’s disappearance is surely it. She’ll need all the support she can get right now.”
“Thanks,” Jenna said with genuine gratitude. “I needed to hear that. After I talk to Zeke, I’m going to meet with Colonel Spelling at the station about a search for Piper. I talked to him a little while ago.”
“That’s good. If anyone can help you find her, it’s Spelling. Everything’s going to be alright, Jenna.”
“I hope so.”
She ended the call and tucked the phone into her pocket, then pushed open her car door and stepped onto the sidewalk.
Zeke was fumbling with a ring of keys, his back to her as he approached the store’s entrance.
Jenna took a deep breath and started toward him, unsure exactly what she would say, but certain that she needed to ensure her mother had the support she needed—especially now, with both Piper missing and another likely murderer here in Trentville.