Something Jenna did not want to think about twisted tight in her chest. She shook her head pointlessly. “No, ma’am. I’ve sent her a couple of messages, actually, but I don’t think she’s seen them yet. I assumed she was at her other job.”
“Yes, she was supposed to work a shift today,” Martha replied. “Her manager called about an hour ago because she hasn’t shown up and isn’t answering his calls. I know the bakery’s closed, so I knew she hadn’t double-booked herself, but I’d hoped….”
Jenna didn’t realize she had started shaking until the milkshake was extracted from her hand and her body turned, tucked into Jon’s side. Somehow, he made her feel delicate at the same time as he grounded her, and that helped to stave off the avalanche of panic that wasn’t hers to have. “I can check with the rest of my crew, see if they’ve heard anything. I know she’s bonded with a couple of them.”
A note of relief colored Martha’s voice. “Oh, thank you. That would help so much. I wasn’t sure who else to call.” She dragged in a breath. “I don’t know what I’ll do if she’s … run away.” The words were whispered, because they both knew Steph wasn’t that girl.
The news report Jenna had heard earlier that morning flashed through her mind.Please, no.“I’ll ask around and then get back to you, okay?”
“Okay,” Martha said quickly. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Jenna disconnected with a heavy heart, her stomach sinking with anxiety.
Jon reached over and laid a hand on top of her trembling one, preventing her from navigating through the phone as thoroughly as he steadied her. “What’s going on?”
Jenna drew a deep breath and looked up in search of his eyes. Dark, like the deepest fathoms of the sea, and equally as captivating. She was practically nestled against him and she ought to have pulled away, but she was thinking maybe he’d been on to something after all. Maybe it would be nice to have someone she could rely on.
“The young girl who works for me, she was there yesterday, do you remember her?”
Jon nodded. “Late teens, light brown hair, kept staring at Lance’s ass.”
Jenna smiled. “Her name is Steph. She’s nineteen, specifically, and she’s a little skittish but she’s a good kid.” Her smile faded. “She might be missing….”
A muscle jumped in Jon’s jaw as he clenched it tight for a moment. Then he tugged her forward, pressed a hard kiss to her forehead, and murmured, “Call whoever you need to call. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
Jenna nodded. He was right. Yesterday had been dramatic and not in a positive way. It’d probably been much more scarring for her younger employees. If Steph was going to act out of character suddenly, it made sense she might do so on the heels of that.Don’t panic yet. Don’t assume the worst.
She tipped herself more into his side as he released her hands. She had to be the one to make the next calls. She knew it. He knew it.
Her restlessness mounted with each phone call, and each subsequent failed discovery. Eric was the only one of her employees to have heard from Steph since the wild events the day before, and even then, the sun had still been up. He also hadn’t had the impression that she was so shaken she might break character and abandon her entire life. Jenna was up and pacing by the time she finished her last call.
Steph still hadn’t shown any signs of checking her texts.
Chatter in what remained of the group thread Jenna had created that morning confirmed Steph also hadn’t been active on any known social media since the previous day, either. Apparently, Steph wasn’t the most social media-forward girl, but she was Generation Z, so her accounts weren’t neglected.
Frustrated and desperate, Jenna tried calling Steph’s phone. For the third time. Martha had surely done as much already. She just didn’t know what else to try.
For the first time, after the usual pause of dead air, the call went straight to voicemail. Which, of course, the girl had not set up.
Jenna clenched her phone as the dread mounted. What was she supposed to do? She didn’t know much more about Steph’s personal life, let alone the girl’s habits. Was it possible Steph had gone for a walk and gotten hurt in the forest and was desperately waiting for someone to find her?
That actually seemed very possible. Misty Glades was all forest.
Jenna spun on her heel.
“Whoa, whoa,” Jon said, suddenly in her space and holding her by the shoulders. “You aren’t nearly settled enough to be rushing out that door.”
Jenna pushed at him, but it was like pushing at a sturdy oak. Even his shirt barely moved. “Steph’s out there somewhere, we just haven’t found her.” She held up her phone like the visual helped. “Her call went straight to voicemail this time. It didn’t ring. That means it’s”—her throat closed, choking off the word—“the battery must be dead, right?” She cleared her throat. “What if Steph’s out there in the forest, nursing a broken ankle or something, and scared out of her mind?”
He still didn’t budge. “And you’re going to scour the entire forest?”
Her fingers twisted in his shirt. “What would you have me do?”
“Call Martha back and put your heads together on the tightest timeline you can,” he replied. “The most important things are who last had eyes on her, who thinks they last communicated with her, and the very first indication that something was off. Amissed meal, a message that might normally have been read but went ignored—”
Alarm bells rang in Jenna’s head and her knees buckled.
Jon caught her swiftly and hauled her up tight against his chest, one arm banded behind her back and the other hand wedged in her hair. If she were in a different mindset, the position would have been concerningly—wonderfully—intimate. But there was no seduction in his gaze, either. This version of Jon was serious. Focused.
