CHAPTER TWO
When Jenna and Frank returned to the kitchen, Mom was sitting at the table with untouched toast on the plate in front of her, with butter and jelly set out on the table. A second and third place had been set for them, and the fourth place was empty.
She and Frank sat down and nibbled at the toast, while her mother just traced the rim of her coffee cup in endless circles. Morning light slanted through the blinds, cutting stripes across the linoleum floor, marking time as they all wondered the same thing: Where had Piper gone, and why?
“I wonder,” Mom said quietly, “if she took her brooch with her.”
For just a moment, Jenna wondered what brooch Mom meant. Then she remembered—it was the brooch that Piper kept with her to make her feel safe and grounded—an ornate piece with a weathered metal and rounded opal face.
“Is it not in her room?” Jenna asked.
“I couldn’t find it. And I hope …” Mom’s voice choked a little. “Well, I hope she’s got it, because it makes her feel so much better—just holding it in her hand, I mean.”
“I know,” Jenna said softly. “I hope she’s got it too.”
Mom shook her head.
“She must have had a reason for going,” Mom said finally, her voice thin and brittle. “She wouldn’t just... leave us again…”
Jenna watched her mother’s face carefully. The improvements of the past months—the clear eyes, the steadier hands, the return of color to her cheeks—now seemed fragile, threatened by this new upheaval. She looked at Frank, who caught her gaze with understanding.
“We’ll find her, Margaret,” Frank said. His voice carried the steady assurance that had guided Jenna through her early days as his deputy.
They all fell quiet again. A neighbor’s dog barked in the distance. Jenna’s phone sat silent on the table, no messages, nothing at all from her twin.
“I had a dream last night,” Jenna said suddenly. The words tumbled out before she could reconsider. “Dad was in it.”
Her mother’s head snapped up, eyes wide. Frank’s expression remained neutral, but his posture stiffened slightly. They both knew what Jenna’s dreams meant.
“Was it... was it really him?” Mom asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jenna replied slowly, “Yes. It was him. Actually him. He speaks to me that way from time to time.”
The kitchen fell silent for a long moment, as if her revelation had filled all the space.
“What did he say?” Frank asked quietly.
Jenna took a breath, organizing her thoughts. "He told me the Piper was missing. That's how I found out, before you called, Mom. He said he keeps watch over both Piper and me, even from beyond. But he said something had pulled Piper away, hidden her even from him."
Mom pushed her chair back abruptly, its legs scraping against the floor. She stood and turned toward the sink, hands gripping the counter edge.
"I wish—" Her voice broke. "I wish I could talk to him, too. Just once more."
Jenna felt the familiar twist of guilt. Her ability was like a barrier between them—one more reminder of how different she was from her mother, and how she could access something Margaret Graves never could.
“Mom, I’m sorry,” she said softly. “You know I can’t control who comes to me.”
“I know,” her mother replied. "I know that, Jenna. You've explained before. It's just—" She turned, tears welling in her eyes. "Sometimes I wonder if he has messages for me, too. Things he wants me to know. And you're the only bridge."
"He told me that he's watching over you, too," Jenna said, knowing that her words were of little comfort.
Frank cleared his throat gently. “Margaret,” he said, using the careful tone he reserved for delicate situations, “maybe this would be a good time to call Zeke. Having support during difficult moments—that’s what he’s there for.”
Mom’s spine stiffened at the mention of her AA sponsor, who also owned the local liquor store. “You think I need a babysitter? You think I’m going to fall apart and reach for a bottle?”
“That’s not what Frank meant,” Jenna said. “But this is a lot to deal with. Piper coming back, then disappearing again. Now hearing about Dad... It would shake anyone.”
For a moment, defiance flashed in her mother’s eyes, that old stubborn pride that had both carried her through grief and nearly drowned her in it. Then, just as quickly, her expression softened.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “Both of you.” She brushed a hand across her eyes. “I’ll call him. But... I need a little time first. Just to be alone with all this.”
She rose from her chair and moved toward the hallway, pausing at the threshold. “I won’t do anything stupid, I promise. I just need to sit with these feelings without anyone watching me like I’m a bomb about to go off.”
“Take whatever time you need, Mom.”
Before she left the kitchen, Mom asked one more question. “In your dream … did Piper …?”
Jenna understood what she was trying to ask. She wanted to know whether Piper had appeared to her, like her father. It mattered, because only dead people came to her in dreams.
“No,” Jenna said. “I’ve never seen Piper in one of my lucid dreams.”
“She’s still alive, then,” Mom said. “Thank God for that.”
They watched her disappear down the hall, heard the soft click of her bedroom door closing moments later.
Frank let out a long breath. “You think she’ll be okay?”
Jenna sank back into her chair. “I don’t know. She’s been doing so well. She’s been sober since June. But this...” She gestured vaguely at the empty chair where Piper had sat the night before.
“This would test anyone’s resolve,” Frank finished for her.
“I should talk to Zeke myself,” Jenna said. “Give him a heads-up about what’s going on.”
Frank agreed. “Good idea. He’s been good for her.”
“It’s more than that.” Jenna ran a hand through her short chestnut hair. “Zeke saved her life when he refused to sell her that bottle. He talked her into the meetings, which he attends himself. She hasn’t had a drink since then, thanks to Zeke and their meetings.”
“Sometimes the person who holds you accountable is exactly who you need,” Frank said.
His gray eyes carried the experience of decades watching people at their best and worst. “Having him check in on her regularly, knowing he’d recognize a backslide instantly—that was her way of building in consequences. ”
“And now they’re friends. Maybe more than friends, though they’re both being careful about that.” Jenna shook her head slightly. “Life gets complicated in the strangest ways.”
Frank’s reply was interrupted by Jenna’s phone buzzing on the table. The screen lit up with Jake’s name.
“I should take this,” she said, tapping the speaker button. “Hey, Jake. You’re on speaker and Frank is here with me.”
“Morning, Sheriff.” His voice filled the kitchen, professional but with the underlying warmth she’d grown accustomed to. “Sorry to bother you so early, but I just got a call that you should know about.”
“What’s happened?” Jenna caught Frank’s attentive gaze across the table.
“A resident at Calloway House died last night. Donna Marsh. Sixty-two. Apparently fell from a stepladder in her unit.”
“Donna Marsh,” she repeated. The name wasn’t immediately familiar to her.
“Yeah. I’m heading over there now. The super found her just a little while ago. The coroner has been called, but it looks like a simple accident. Do you want me to pick you up?”
“Jake, I...” Jenna hesitated. “Piper’s gone.”
The silence on the other end lasted several seconds. “Gone? What do you mean gone?”
“She left sometime during the night. Took a few things with her.”
“Damn it, Jenna. I’m sorry.” The concern in his voice was genuine. “Do you have any idea where she went? Or why?”
“No. Dad came to me in a dream earlier and said she was gone, but said even he didn’t know where she was now. And she didn’t tell us anything. We don’t have a clue.”
Jake knew about her ability, had accepted it as part of who she was. In fact, he often seemed to look on it as an investigative tool that she could share with him. As their relationship had deepened during the last few months, he no longer seemed to question those sources at all.
“Okay,” he said. “Look, you focus on finding Piper. I can handle the Calloway House situation. From what I’m hearing, it’s pretty straightforward.”
Jenna rubbed the back of her neck, where tension had begun to build. “I’m not so sure, Jake. About Donna Marsh, I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had another dream last night. Before the one with my father. There was a woman in the dark, holding a candle. She said, ‘I need help. I need to find who did this to me.’”
The line went quiet again. Jenna could almost picture Jake processing this information, weighing the coincidence.
“Did she give you any name or location?”
“Nothing about herself. But there was a dog in the dream too. It kept barking. I think its name was Biscuit.”
“Biscuit,” Jake repeated slowly. “I’ll look into it, see if Donna Marsh had a dog. But Jenna, even if there is a connection, your sister has to be your top priority right now.”
“I know, and she will be. I just... I wanted you to have all the information.”
“I appreciate that. I’ll check everything out thoroughly, I promise. And I’ll keep you updated.”
“Thanks, Jake.”
After they ended the call, Frank leaned back in his chair, his weathered face contemplative. “You should call Colonel Chad Spelling about Piper. Chad has resources we don’t. And he already appreciates your unique sources of information.”
Jenna considered this. Not only was Chad Spelling the superintendent of the Missouri State Highway Patrol, he was one of the very few people she’d told about her ability.
Although he might not understand it completely, Spelling respected her insights, and their previous collaborations had been productive.
“You’re right,” she said, reaching for her phone again. “He might be able to help.”
The call connected. “Good morning, Sheriff Graves,” Spelling’s crisp voice answered. “This is earlier than our usual consultations.”
“Colonel Spelling,” she replied, matching his formal tone. “I need your help with something personal.”
She explained the situation briefly. He knew about Piper’s history, so Jenna described her current disappearance, including the missing bicycle, and the limited information she had gleaned from her dream.
“I understand your concern,” Spelling said when she finished. “Your sister’s case has always been... notable.”
That was an understatement. Piper’s disappearance twenty years ago had caused one of the most intensive—but fruitless—missing persons searches in county history.
“I can meet you at the Trentville station in thirty minutes,” he continued. “We’ll coordinate a proper search.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Jenna said, relief coursing through her. Spelling had never let her down when it truly mattered.
After ending the call, Jenna stood and collected her jacket from the back of her chair. “I need to go. I’ll speak to Zeke first, then meet Spelling.”
Frank rose as well. “I’ll stay here with your mother. Make sure she’s alright.”
Jenna replied gratefully, “Thanks, Frank. For everything.”
His hand rested briefly on her shoulder. “You’re juggling a lot, Jenna Marie. Don’t forget to breathe.”
The use of her middle name, something Frank and her mother also did, brought a small smile to her face. “I’m trying.”
Outside, the October morning had warmed slightly, burning off the early fog that had shrouded the neighborhood. Jenna slid into her cruiser. As she turned the key, the engine rumbled to life, but she didn’t immediately put the car in drive.
Her mind filled with two images: Piper’s face, finally found after twenty years only to vanish again, and the unknown woman from her dream, desperate for help in the darkness. Two such important issues, making her feel insufficient.
“Where are you, Piper?” she whispered to the empty car. “And who was the woman with the candle? Was it really Donna Marsh?” If it was, then the woman’s plea about finding “who did this to me” made it doubtful that death had been a simple accident.
Jenna finally put the car in gear. Two mysteries, two women who needed her—one she’d spent her entire adult life searching for, and one she’d never met. And somehow, she had to find a way to help them both.