Page 3 of In Her Path

In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face, studying her reflection. Dark circles shadowed her green eyes—she’d been getting too many of these visits lately. The face that stared back at her was too thin, the lines around her mouth deeper than they’d been last month. Sheriff Jenna Graves, thirty-five going on fifty.

She brushed her teeth methodically, trying to focus on the minty taste of the toothpaste rather than the silent, pleading face from her dream. Her reflection watched her, mouth working in rhythm with the brush—reminding her of Curtis’s speechless terror.

Stop it, she told herself, spitting into the sink. You’ve got a full day ahead.

The mirror offered no reassurance as she ran a brush through her short chestnut hair, wincing at the tangles. A shower would help—hot water to wash away the lingering unease. But as Jenna turned toward the stall, the dream’s image flashed again in her mind: Curtis Paige, straining to speak, his voice—or the absence of it—haunting the empty air between them.

The shower did little to warm the cold that had settled in her bones.

*

Jenna pulled into her mother’s driveway at 6:30, exactly as she did every weekday morning. The white clapboard house looked peaceful in the early light, the garden beds along the front walk neatly mulched for winter. Her mother’s car sat in its usual spot, and Jenna could see lights on in the kitchen through the side window. The routine was comforting—a needed anchor after the unsettling start to her day.

The smell of coffee and bacon greeted her as she stepped through the door. Her mother stood at the stove, spatula in hand, her silver-streaked hair pulled back in a loose bun. She didn’t turn around.

“Morning, Jenna Marie. Coffee’s fresh.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Jenna poured herself a mug, the ceramic warm against her palms. “Where’s Piper?”

“In the dining room. Setting the table.”

Jenna carried her coffee through the short hallway to the dining room. Her twin sister sat at the table, arranging and rearranging silverware beside three place settings. They shared the same green eyes and strong jaw, but years of hardship had left Piper thinner, her face more lined.

“Hey,” Jenna said, sliding into her usual chair. “You sleep okay?”

“Fine. You?”

“Dreams again.”

Their eyes met in silent understanding. Then Piper resumed her fidgeting with the silverware, lining up each fork with precision bordering on obsession.

Their mother appeared in the doorway, a platter of pancakes in one hand and a plate of bacon in the other. “Breakfast is served, ladies.”

Jenna hesitated before broaching the subject of her dream. But as soon as they started to eat, Piper set down her fork with a clatter that made them both look up.

“They’re still quiet,” she said, her voice carrying an edge. “Two weeks now. No voices or visions. Nothing.”

Their mother’s expression softened. “Honey, that’s—“

“I know what you’re going to say.” Piper tapped against her coffee mug. “It’s a blessing. Peace and quiet. Time to recover.” She attempted a smile. “Maybe I’m retired. Maybe the universe decided I’ve had enough psychic insight for one lifetime.”

Jenna knew her sister’s psychic gift to be different from her own. Instead of spirits coming to her in dreams, Piper heard voices and sometimes had visions while wide awake. Those voices has been a threat to her for a long time, causing her to run away from home for many years and to lose her very identity. She was now recovering from a terrifying episode in which she’d very nearly disappeared again. But since then, the voices had become benign, even helpful.

Or so it seemed, at least. There was still a lot that neither Jenna nor Piper knew about her voices and visions. She wondered—was all that over now?

Jenna reached across the table, covering her sister’s hand with her own. “It might just be temporary. After what happened on that last case—”

“That’s just it.” Piper pulled away. “Nothing has happened since. It’s like they’ve all gone on vacation without me.” She pushed a piece of pancake around her plate. “I keep waiting, and there’s just... nothing.”

Their mother set down her coffee cup. “Piper, after everything you’ve been through, a little quiet isn’t the worst thing. You need time to—”

“I know what I need, Mom.” The words came out sharper than Piper had probably intended. She took a breath. “Sorry. I just... it’s weird. Like going deaf all of a sudden.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the table.

“Tell us about your dream, Jenna,” Piper said.

“Curtis Paige was in it,” Jenna said. “He was trying to talk to me, but no sound came out.”