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“Dammit, Piper,” Sheriff Jenna Graves murmured, a whisper meant only for the forest where she stood and the memory of her long-missing twin sister. “What am I doing here?”

She had chosen the early hours not only to outpace the climbing mercury but also to dodge the inquisitive eyes of early risers who might question why the sheriff of Genesius County was scouring Shelby National Forest instead of enjoying the reprieve of a Sunday morning. As she walked, her backpack shifted with each step, its contents — a bottle of water, a bag of trail mix for sustenance, and Piper’s bird-watching guide— were both practical and deeply personal. This had become a weekly ritual, a repetition of hope and persistence. With every hike, Jenna hoped she might be retracing steps Piper might have taken, searching for a clue in each bird’s call or flutter of wings through the underbrush.

She paused, leaning against a tree trunk to catch her breath. The dream that had led her here was as vivid in her mind as the forest around her. It had been a sign, Jenna was sure of it — a spectral message from a realm that teased the edges of her reality. Jenna closed her eyes for a moment, letting the forest’s whispers fill her ears. The vision from her lucid dream unfurled in her mind: a woman, face obscured by shadows, cradling a sandpiper as tenderly as one might hold a child.

That dream had seemed important, though she’d had no idea what it might mean. Then Jenna had experienced that same image again when she had nearly drowned in Sablewood Reservoir during the last case she and her deputy, Jake Hawkins, had solved together. It was as if the murky waters themselves had conjured the image from the depths of her psyche while she fought for air, for life. The image had become a clue that had to be followed.

Every spare moment found her burrowed in the local library, her eyes skimming across topographical maps, tracing waterways and wetlands where the sandpipers might be found. She’d engaged in lengthy discussions with avian enthusiasts, those unassuming custodians of feathered secrets. She had even enlisted the expertise of the Missouri Department of Conservation, hoping their scientific data could illuminate this personal odyssey. She had discovered that sandpipers lived in many parts of Missouri, near ponds and streams and marshes. Was it possible that the image in her dream was pointing her to some location near her home? Each potential habitat within reach of Trentville was not merely a point on a map; it was a possible signpost on the way to discovering what had befallen Piper.

The bird-watching guide nestled within her backpack was more than a collection of ornithological details; it was a map peppered with hope, each entry a potential landmark in the uncharted territory of her sister’s disappearance.

With a determined tilt of her chin, Jenna reached for the sunglasses perched atop her head and slid them back into place, the lenses muting the harsh glare of the morning light. Underneath the sheltering arms of ancient oaks and hickories, she had found a temporary haven from the punishing July sun. However, the canopy’s shade did little to ward off the enveloping humidity that clung to her skin, a constant companion in her trek into the heart of the forest. A bead of sweat traced a line down her temple as she resumed her trek. Her green eyes reflected the weariness of her quest. Yet, she pressed on, driven by an innate sense of purpose that bordered on obsession.

Jenna’s dedication to her sister’s case had evolved into something more than just the search for a missing person; it was a quest to fill the void Piper had left behind. It was a refusal to concede to the silence that had enveloped Piper’s disappearance two decades ago.

The certainty that Piper still lived somewhere beyond Jenna’s reach was as much a part of her as her badge or her gun. It propelled her forward when logic argued for rest, when the odds seemed insurmountable. And though the journey was laden with disappointment and dead ends, Jenna knew that surrender was not within her. Not while the mystery of Piper’s absence remained unsolved, not while her heart still held onto hope.

The overhead canopy parted, and the trail yielded to the hidden sanctuary she’d been looking for—a small pond cradled within Shelby National Forest. Dappled sunlight glanced off the water, turning the surface into a mosaic of liquid gold and azure. Jenna’s pulse thrummed in her ears as she caught sight of several sandpipers, their slender legs navigating the mire at the water’s edge with delicate precision. They were tangible echoes of her vision, their presence igniting a surge of anticipation that swept through her like a current.

She approached the shoreline, every sense heightened. And there they were—several of the medium-sized brown and white birds with spots on their breasts. The sandpipers seemed undisturbed by her presence and their foraging continued, their long legs keeping them above the water while their orange bills dipped for food.

Jenna’s eyes scoured the environment with the meticulous care of an archivist sifting through ancient manuscripts. Fallen logs lay strewn about, their bark etched with the passage of time and weather. Had Piper had once stood where Jenna now stood? Was this where the woman in her dream had held a sandpiper?

Jenna’s breath hitched, a silent counterpoint to the relentless ticking of the clock in her head. The forest around her seemed to hold its breath too, as if nature itself was waiting for a revelation that Jenna’s intuition promised but reality withheld. But there was nothing—no sign, no message, no trace of the mysterious woman.

With a weary exhale, Jenna acknowledged the futility of this morning’s pursuit. She allowed herself the small surrender of sinking onto a fallen log, its bark rough against the fabric of her uniform. Her backpack lay beside her, and she withdrew Piper’s bird guide. The cover bore the softness of leather long exposed to sun and touch. Jenna opened it with reverence, the spine creasing to a well-worn page adorned with the illustration of a sandpiper.

For a moment, Jenna’s world narrowed to the image before her, the fine lines capturing the essence of the bird with an almost lifelike quality. Her fingertip traced the contours of the drawing, moving over the paper as if the act could summon forth the spirit of her sister.

With Piper’s bird guide open, Jenna let her gaze drift from the illustration to the pond’s tranquil surface. Sunlight danced across the water, and the sandpipers skittered along the edge, oblivious to the gravity of the moment. In their simplicity, the birds carried the echo of Piper’s infectious enthusiasm—not just for birdwatching but for life itself. Jenna could almost hear her sister’s laughter, see her scribbling notes fervently, her eyes alight each time she ticked off another species in her guide.

The memories swelled like a tide within Jenna—the way Piper would tilt her head, considering a bird’s song, or the glimmer of excitement in her eyes at the sight of winged silhouettes against the sky. A fresh wave of grief washed over her, and she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, willing back the tears that threatened to fall.

Exhaling slowly, Jenna lowered her hands, the forest around her coming back into focus. She felt the weight of doubt settle upon her shoulders, a burden all too familiar. Her twin’s absence had left a gaping hole in her world, one that had driven her to the edges of reason, to this very spot, chasing a dream that might lead to nothing at all. The vision of the woman holding a sandpiper had been so vivid, so compelling, but here, surrounded by nature’s indifference, Jenna couldn’t help but question its significance. The cool touch of the bird guide’s worn pages seemed to offer no answer, and Jenna hugged it tightly to her chest as though it could shield her from the uncertainty gnawing at her resolve.

“Obsession can be a dangerous path,” Jenna mused aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. The quiet of the forest embraced her words, offering neither judgment nor comfort.

But as she sat there, attempting to marshal her thoughts, the serenity she sought remained elusive. Instead, images of Piper continued to flicker behind her lids, moments frozen in time. Jenna’s grip on the bird guide tightened reflexively, its presence both a comfort and a torment.

And again, she had to wonder—what exactly was she looking for? What kind of evidence, what sort of a signpost did she expect to find?

Jenna had dedicated her life to solving puzzles, to bringing order to chaos. But Piper’s disappearance remained an enigma, a cold case that had shaped Jenna’s identity, fueled her commitment to law enforcement, and granted her an uncanny insight into the realm of the missing and the dead.

“Where are you?” Jenna asked the empty woods, her voice tinged with weariness. It wasn’t just Piper she sought—it was the other half of herself, the part that had vanished on that fateful day so long ago. With her eyes closed, Jenna tried to clear her mind, to center herself.

Her breath caught in a moment of self-reflection, the kind that always seemed to ambush her when she was alone with the ghosts of her past. Her mother, Margaret, fighting her own demons with the bottle, had only just started to mend their fractured relationship. At least Mom had been sober when they’d last seen each other, and she was working hard to stay that way.

She could also see concern etched in Jake Hawkins’ features every time he looked at her. The protective nature of her deputy, often expressed through furrowed brows and tight-lipped silences, spoke volumes.

Even so, the thought of abandoning her search for Piper was inconceivable. Jenna’s life had been irrevocably altered the day her sister vanished. That single event had redirected the course of her future, turning her into a seeker of justice. She had become a sheriff not just for the sake of order or community but for Piper. The journey had isolated her from others, those who couldn’t fathom the depth of her need for answers. She had paid the price in solitude.

Her thoughts swirled like the leaves in the wind above her until a sudden vibration jarred her from her reverie. The phone buzzed insistently against the wood of the fallen log where it lay beside her, the screen lighting up with Jake Hawkins’ name. With a frown etched by concern and curiosity, she snatched it up, pressing the device to her ear.

“Jenna, I know it’s your day off, but we’ve got a situation,” Jake’s voice cut through the stillness of the forest, his tone all business, the underlying urgency unmistakable.