Page 4 of In Her Prayers

Jenna took a step forward, crossing the threshold into the sanctuary of Jake’s well-organized workspace.His office was a bit smaller than hers, his metal desk a landscape of case files and reports.Despite the clutter, there was a meticulousness to it all, as if every paper and pen was placed with intention.

“Yesterday was...well, strange,” she began, choosing her words with care.She stepped inside and gently closed the door behind her, the soft click signifying a barrier between them and the rest of the world.Lowering herself into the chair across from Jake’s desk, Jenna took a moment to pull the scattered pieces of her thoughts into alignment.

“I found something at the lake, Jake.Something that could change everything,” she stated.“But it’s also confusing.”

“Go on,” Jake urged when she paused, his pen poised above the notepad he’d instinctively reached for.

Jenna told him all about her visit to the dense woods of Whitmore Lake State Forest, the path unfolding before her just as it had in her dream.Her recounting was methodical, each word deliberate as she painted the scene for him - the way the early morning mist clung to the trees, the soft loam beneath her boots, and the silence that wrapped around her.

Her throat tightened as she spoke of the weathered dock, the letters and numerals etched into the wood like wrinkles on an old man’s face.“And there, on the post...initials and a date were carved: ‘P.G.7/29/2010’.”

As she finished, Jenna watched Jake absorb the tale, his expression a mix of awe and deep-seated worry.

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk.His gaze never left her face, searching for the subtext behind her carefully chosen words.“P.G....you think the carving was left by Piper Graves?”

“That’s what I thought at first.But then...”She trailed off, her gaze drifting to the window where the early rays of sunlight made their way through the blinds.She described the dream—the return of the sandpiper, the ghostly photograph, and the girl who had seemed to want to speak just before Jenna awoke.

“That’s...intense, Jenna.What do you think it means?”Jake asked.

Frustration creased her brow as she ran a hand through her hair, stray chestnut strands refusing to be tamed.“I don’t know, Jake.But I can’t shake the feeling that this girl, whoever she is, is trying to tell me something important.”

Jake nodded slowly.“She appeared in your dream, so she’s … not alive.”

He pivoted away from her, turning his attention to the computer, the screen a gateway to possibilities as boundless as the web it connected to.

“Let’s see if we can find out who she might be.You said the carving was dated July 29, 2010, right?And Whitmore Lake State Forest is in Braxon County.”

“Correct,” Jenna confirmed, feeling a now familiar relief that Jake was so accepting, so willing to work with such unsubstantial information from her night-time visions.

They huddled over Jake’s desktop, shoulders almost touching, and Jenna felt a familiar tingle of attraction toward her deputy—an attraction she often suspected he might share with her.But the thought of opening up about this issue daunted her—and even scared her.Professionally, they were a great team together, and they were also great friends.How might a romantic entanglement affect both their professional relationship and their friendship?

Most of the time, she figured it would be best not to find out.But at other times …

The room fell silent save for the soft clicking of Jake’s keyboard.Jenna leaned forward, her emerald eyes fiercely scanning each line of text that scrolled past, looking for anything that could connect to the mysterious “P.G.”from her dream.They combed through public records, missing person reports, and old news articles—anything that could shed light on the identity of the girl from Jenna’s dreams.

Suddenly, Jake’s cursor hovered over a link.“Look at this,” he said, his tone sharpening with discovery.He clicked on a news article from the Clendon Post Gazette.

The headline read: “Local Clendon Teen Patricia Gaines Still Missing After Week-Long Search.”

“Patricia Gaines,” the name echoed in Jenna’s head.Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the grainy newsprint image.The girl in the photograph bore a haunting resemblance to the figure from her dream—the same hollowed cheeks, the same penetrating stare that reached across the boundary of life and death.

“It’s her,” Jenna murmured, the realization sinking in like the chill of the morning air.“The girl from my dream.”She barely recognized her own voice, a mere echo in the quiet of Jake’s office.

It was an astonishing development, but what did it mean?The P.G.in the newspaper story and photo—it was Patricia Gaines, not Piper.But where did that leave her sister?Jenna felt the threads of hope unraveling, her certainty torn by doubt.

“She went missing on August 5, 2010,” she read aloud, her voice no more than a whisper.That meant that the date carved into the weathered dock post was not just a random etching—”July 29, 2010” was a timestamp close to a mystery she had unwittingly stumbled upon.She forced herself to look away from the photograph, to focus on the room, on the solidity of the desk, the familiar hum of the computer.

The story included an urgent appeal from Patricia’s parents, begging people to tell them anything they might know about what had happened to their daughter.

The room was silent except for the sound of movement and conversation in the rooms and hallways outside Jake’s office.Jenna’s mind raced with the possibilities of what the dream could mean, feeling an invisible thread tugging at her, urging her to act.

“Maybe,” she began, hesitantly breaking the silence, “I should reach out to Patricia’s parents.”

Jake’s eyes met hers, the depth of his concern evident.He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as he searched for the right words.“What would you tell them, Jenna?”he asked softly.“That you had a dream about their daughter?”

Jenna knew he was right; dreams, no matter how vivid, were not evidence.They couldn’t bring Patricia back or provide tangible answers to the tormenting questions that must plague her family every waking moment.And, of course, she couldn’t begin to explain to them just how she’d come to think she knew their daughter might be dead.It would seem crazy—and worse, it would be cruel.

“You’re right,” she finally said, breaking the silence that had settled between them.Her voice was steady, betraying none of the turmoil that churned within her.“But if Patricia’s spirit is reaching out to me, why?What is she trying to tell me?”

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