Page 31 of In Her Path

Her mother and Frank exchanged a look that made Jenna want to sink through the floor. But neither pressed the issue, for which she was profoundly grateful.

“How’s she been today?” Jenna asked, changing the subject. “Really?”

Her mother’s expression softened. “Better. She’s frustrated that she can’t give you more specific information about your case—she wants to help. But she’s also...” She paused, searching for the right word. “Hopeful, I think. For the first time in a long while.”

“That’s good,” Jenna said, meaning it. After twenty years of separation, of searching, of wondering if her twin was even alive, each small step toward normalcy felt like a miracle.

“You look dead on your feet,” Frank said. “Did you drive here?”

Jenna was suddenly aware of just how tired she was—her muscles aching, her mind fuzzy with exhaustion. “No, Jake dropped me off. He was too tired to come in.”

“I’ll get you home,” Frank said, pushing back from the table.

“Thanks for dinner,” Jenna said to her mother, rising to clear her barely-touched plate.

Her mother waved her away. “I’ll get it. You go on.”

The goodbyes were brief—a quick hug from her mother, a promise to call tomorrow, a reminder to get some sleep.

Frank’s ancient Ford pickup rumbled to life, the headlights cutting twin beams through the darkness as Frank pulled away from the curb.

“So,” Frank said, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. “What exactly did happen between you and Jake tonight?”

Jenna groaned, dropping her head back against the seat. “Of all the things for Piper’s voices to talk about …”

“Your sister has a talent for getting to the heart of things.” Frank’s voice carried a note of amusement. “Even when she was little, she’d cut right through all the nonsense to what really mattered. I’ve been watching you and your deputy dance around each other for months now. It was only a matter of time.”

They drove in silence for a moment, the truck’s tires humming against the pavement. Jenna stared out the window, watching the darkened storefronts slide past, her reflection a ghost against the backdrop of Trentville at night.

“He kissed me,” she said finally, the words feeling strangely weighty in the confined space of the cab. “When he dropped me at Mom’s. It wasn’t—we weren’t planning it. It just happened.”

Frank kept his eyes on the road. “And how do you feel about that?”

The question was deceptively simple. How did she feel? The truth was complicated—a tangle of relief and fear, of longing and hesitation.

“I don’t know,” Jenna admitted. “It’s not exactly the best timing, with everything else going on. Piper’s just come home, and now this murder...”

“Life rarely gives us perfect timing,” Frank said gently. “If we waited for everything to line up just right, we’d spend our whole lives waiting.”

Jenna looked at him closely. Frank Doyle had been her mentor since she’d first joined the sheriff’s department, had guided her through the early days of her career, had stood by her during the years of Piper’s disappearance. He had seen her at her worst—desperate, broken, certain she would never find her sister—and had never once suggested she give up.

“I’m scared,” she admitted. “Everything’s changing so fast. Piper’s home, and I still can’t quite believe it. And now Jake, and this case...”

“Change isn’t always bad,” Frank said. “Sometimes it’s exactly what we need, even if we don’t know it at the time.”

When he pulled into Jenna’s driveway, he added, “Get some sleep.” Tomorrow’s another day, and the case isn’t going anywhere. Neither is Jake.”

Jenna pushed the door open. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.” Frank waited, engine idling, as she made her way up the walk to her front door. Only when she’d unlocked it and stepped inside did his headlights sweep across the front windows as he backed out of the driveway.

Jenna stood in the darkness of her entryway and took a deep breath. The house felt emptier than usual—too quiet, too still. She flipped on the light, wincing at the sudden brightness, and dropped her keys in the bowl by the door.

Her mind kept circling back to the same questions, the same fragments of the day.

He’ll be sleeping too deeply. Shake him awake.

She’ll vanish soon into silence.