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Jenna squinted against the glare of the morning sun as she eased the cruiser through the undulating landscape. Verdigris Ranch was behind them now, but it lingered like an afterimage in her mind. The difference between the modern sheen of that ranch and the weathered charm of the neighboring lands seemed to reflect the community’s unspoken divides.

She asked Jake, “Did you catch how Ethan’s expression changed when I mentioned Clyde’s corruption investigation?”

“Yeah, it was like flipping a switch,” Jake said, picking up on her line of thought. “And he immediately asked about Lily Cummings. He wanted to find out what she might have said to us.”

“Maybe he had good reason to ask. She told us yesterday that she was sniffing around some leads herself. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Jake. I think Lily might be in danger.”

“Let’s hope we’re wrong,” Jake finally said, though the grim edge to his voice belied the sentiment. “But she refused protection yesterday,”

“Maybe she should get it whether she likes it or not,” Jenna replied, her tone carrying an edge of command that left no room for argument. “It’s our job to keep people safe in this town, no matter what.”

She reached for the radio clipped to her shoulder. With a flick and a twist, she established the connection. “Donovan,” she called out, her voice firm and clear, “I need you to organize a watch on Harvest Haven. Keep an eye on Lily Cummings. It’s for their own safety, so if she gives you any trouble, put her in touch with me directly.”

The crackle of affirmation from Officer Mike Donovan buzzed through the speakers, but Jenna barely registered it. She knew he would do his job, and she thanked him and ended the contact.

As they continued on their way, something Ethan Holbrook had said echoed through Jenna’s mind: “This land’s been calling me ever since I can remember.” It reminded her of the voice she’d heard seemingly from the sky in her dream: “The land remembers.”

Did those words somehow connect Ethan to her dream? She couldn’t see how. Ethan Holbrook was alive and well, and the disembodied voice she’d heard couldn’t possibly be his. But whose voice was it? And she still couldn’t guess what it meant by its dark pronouncement to the already-dead Roger Bates: “You are too small for the land. You are too small for the sky. The sky is too big for you.”

She tried to push the dream from her mind, at the same time knowing that it was somehow the key to unraveling this case. Sooner or later, she’d have to crack its meaning—if not, a killer would remain free, and more people would probably die.

As they pulled into Trentville, the usual bustle of small-town life had been replaced by a haunting stillness.

“It looks like a ghost town,” Jake muttered.

Storefronts that would typically be welcoming customers stood mute, their windows reflecting back the nearly-empty streets. It was clear that the news of another murder had spread through the small community like wildfire, leaving many of its residents shuttered inside their homes, fearful of what could be lurking in their midst.

“Everyone’s scared,” Jenna responded, keeping her gaze fixed on the road ahead. “They’re looking to us for answers we don’t have for them yet.”

She eased her cruiser into the familiar spot beside the Sheriff’s Office, the tires crunching over gravel that hadn’t been smoothed out in years. The building’s brick facade wore its age like a badge of honor, standing solemnly as a beacon of law and order.

“Let’s get to it,” she said, and they stepped out into the humid air of mid-July.

Inside, the dispatcher gave Jenna and Jake a nod heavy with the unspoken knowledge of last night’s meeting. Jenna returned it with a tight smile.

Her office could be a sanctuary of sorts from the chaos that had erupted in her jurisdiction. She pushed the door open, and the sight that greeted her was one of controlled disarray. Files stood in neat piles, each a story, a piece of puzzles she dedicated her life to solving.

Jenna sank into her worn office chair and leaned back, allowing herself just a moment of respite. Jake sat on the edge of her desk, his eyes scanning the office. Jenna watched him, grateful for his presence. He was a dependable anchor in the storm that seemed to be brewing.

Jenna brought up the recent crime scene photos on her phone—a tree with branches splayed like the veins of a leaf—that had been burned into both of the victim’s chests. The pain that had killed two men had come from a branding iron made from that mysterious design.

“Alright,” she said, “let’s break this down. We’ve got two murders with the same M.O., both victims branded with this strange symbol.” She tapped the photo as if to punctuate the gravity of their situation. “Clyde was investigating some kind of corruption, and Ethan Holbrook’s behavior is more than a little suspicious.”

“And he hasn’t exactly made himself a welcome member of the community.”

“That’s right. But it’s not much to go on.”

Jake leaned forward, his mouth opened, ready to weave his own insights into their case, when suddenly the office door swung open with such force that it reverberated against the wall.

Mayor Claire Simmons stood in the threshold, her usual poise unraveled into disarray. The meticulous care she took in her appearance had given way to an image marked by distress—clothes less than pristine, hair slightly askew. Her eyes, rimmed red not just from the stresses of authority but from personal loss and lack of rest, scanned the room with a fury that seemed to consume her.

“Mayor Simmons—” Jenna started, taken aback by the intrusion and the raw emotion displayed by the woman who had so often opposed her methods.

“Another murder?” Claire’s voice pierced the stillness of Jenna’s office like a siren, ratcheting the tension in the room to an unbearable pitch.

Jenna rose, feet planted firmly on the ground as if to brace herself against the onslaught. “Mayor Simmons, I understand you’re upset—”

“Upset?” Claire’s voice spiked with incredulity, interrupting Jenna with a vehemence that vibrated through the room. “I’m way past upset, Sheriff. I’m furious. My brother is dead, Roger Bates is dead, and you seem no closer to catching this killer than you were yesterday! Who’s next to die, Sheriff Graves? Do you even have any idea?”

Jake stepped forward, his movements deliberate, his presence a calming force. “Mayor, we’re doing everything we can—” he said, his voice the epitome of patience.

“Well, it’s not enough!” Claire snapped. She turned back to Jenna, her eyes blazing. “I’m warning you, Sheriff Graves. If you don’t start producing results, and fast, I’ll have no choice but to take action.”

“Are you threatening my job, Mayor?” Jenna asked sharply. This woman was supposed to be an ally, but here she stood, brandishing ultimatums like weapons. Jenna was keenly aware that Claire’s pain was real, the loss of her brother a wound that wouldn’t soon heal. She also knew that, in the eyes of the mayor and perhaps many others, Jenna was responsible for every unsolved crime, every unanswered question that troubled Genesius County.

“I know I can’t fire you directly,” Claire replied, her voice low and dangerous. “But I can set the wheels in motion for a recall election. A vote of no confidence from the public. How do you think that would go after last night’s meeting?”

The words were a sharp reminder of the power dynamics at play. Mayor Simmons’ thinly veiled threat cut deep, not because Jenna doubted her ability to solve this case, but because she understood all too well the fickle nature of public opinion. Last night’s town meeting had been rough, a torrent of fear and frustration vented by a community on edge. It didn’t matter how hard Jenna and her team were working when immediate peace of mind was what mattered most to the townsfolk.

Jenna’s mouth opened to strongly object to mayor’s threat, but the shrill ring of her phone cut into the boiling confrontation.

“Graves,” Jenna barked into the receiver.

“Jenna, it’s Donovan.”

Jenna’s spirits took another blow. A call from the officer she’d just assigned to look after Lily Cummings’s safety couldn’t bode well.

“What’s going on?” Jenna asked.

“We’ve got a problem. Lily Cummings isn’t at Harvest Haven. Her employees are worried - they say it’s not like her to disappear without notice. Nobody here can guess what’s happened.”

The words hit Jenna with the force of a physical blow, confirming her recent fears. Lily, the vocal activist whose passion for justice rivaled even Jenna’s own, missing? If Lily had stumbled onto something related to the case, if she had been targeted...

“Understood,” Jenna said tersely. “I’ll be right there.”

Terminating the call with a decisive click, she looked up to find Jake’s eyes on her, his expression a mirror of her own concern.

“We need to go. Now.” Her directive was sharp, brooking no argument, and together they moved toward the door.

Jenna turned to Mayor Simmons, whose gaze flickered between them, sharp and searching. “Mayor, we’ll have to continue this discussion later. We may have another victim.”

Claire Simmons’s mouth opened, then closed, her anger now tempered by confusion. The lines on her face seemed to deepen, and for a moment, Jenna could see the politician warring with the sister, grief clawing just beneath the surface.

“Another victim?” Claire’s voice was quieter now, but still laced with the steel of authority and the tremor of fear.

“We don’t know, but time is critical,” Jenna said, her words clipped. She saw the shift in Claire, a crack in her armor, and something within Jenna softened. It was a grim reminder that behind every badge and title were just people trying to protect their own. But there was no space for sentiment—not now. Jenna turned away with Jake at her heels and left her office.

The door slammed shut behind them with a finality that echoed through the empty hallway, leaving behind a stunned Claire Simmons, momentarily forgotten in the face of this new emergency.

They burst into the open air, the morning sun doing little to chase away the chill that Jenna felt in her bones. “Donovan can’t find Lily Cummings,” she informed Jake. “Even the Green Gaia Guardians at Harvest Haven don’t know where she is either. Jake, make sure our team knows to keep an eye out for Lily and … well, for anything unusual.”

“Already on it,” he replied, pulling out his phone to set the wheels of law enforcement into motion.

The cruiser sat at the curb, and Jenna slid behind the wheel, the keys jangling as she fired up the engine. As the vehicle lurched forward, tires biting into the gravel, she felt the familiar pull of duty mixed with fear.

Navigating Trentville’s streets as quickly as safety allowed, the town’s charm suddenly felt to her like a veil over something insidious. The bright facades of the Sunflower Café and the Centaur’s Den bar looked more like painted stage sets than pieces of a community. The threat of a recall election loomed like a storm cloud ready to burst—but even that threat seemed insignificant in light of a possible new murder.

Then Jenna felt her commitment harden. Trentville was her home, these people her charge, and she’d be damned if she’d let politics—or threats—undermine her authority or shake her commitment.

And she would not allow herself to be swayed by intimidation.