Forgotten

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

   Jenna sat on her bed against the head rest, her knees pulled tightly to her chest. “God, why did you bring Brandon back? I don’t understand why you are doing this to me. Don’t I have enough to think about with the cases?”

   Jenna always told God what was going on with her cases. She always felt that God would give her answers, good or bad, about the murders or missing people that were thrown her way. Talking through it with someone who she could always confide in made it easier to not worry because she knew whatever happened, there was someone in control. It gave her peace.

   “Brandon and I talked to each one of the families. All of the victim’s computers were taken a few weeks before they disappeared. None of the houses have any sign of a break in, so what happened to their computers?” Resting her head back, she closed her eyes and thought. Her mind wandered from the computers, to the victims, to missing people, to her mother, and back to Brandon. Hot tears started rolling down her cheeks. “Why?” she whispered.

***

   Jenna was in the foster system until she was 14. Nobody knew where she came from, or who her mother was. She was named by the family who took her in to Social Services, Jenna Taylor Berkman; at least that’s what everyone told her. Of course she had no last name, and the family did not want her to take theirs because she was not part of their family. So they gave her the last name of some local artist Jenna could never find in the supposed “home town,” where she came from. Everything in her life was a maybe. Maybe that’s where she came from, maybe that’s how she got her name, and maybe her mother didn’t want her. Ever since she could remember, she was always looking for answers about it all.

   She grew up fast, becoming independent at a young age. Being in the system took a lot of work and she could never grow attached to anything or anyone. She was always moving from town to town, state to state.

   One family she remembered fairly well; the Powell’s. They were a rich family that only took her in because it made them look like good people. Jenna always loved their house, the best out of all the others. At six years old, curiosity got the best of her every time. When she arrived, she got out of the cab in the only dress she owned. It was a plain, faded blue dress, with ripped lace at the bottom. Normally she just wore her regular torn up jeans and dirty t-shirts, but she heard she was going to a special family’s home today, so she wanted to dress up. She even tried to put her hair up in pigtails, not caring at the crookedness of them.

   She got out and the cab driver took her one suitcase, put it next to her, and drove off. She was left there, gazing up at the two story mansion with white marble pillars in the front. She ran up the steps as fast as her small feet could take her and opened the big wooden doors to the home. A grin spread across her face as she looked inside at a statue of a baby with wings and a bow and arrow. Taking one step in, she looked at the two stair cases going up on each side of her and meeting at the top.

   A disgusted voice yelled out and made Jenna jump. “You must be the brat that will be staying with us.” A large old woman with an apron on came into view on her left. She scowled but Jenna couldn’t help but flash a smile back and run up the stairs to her right.

   She was so excited and wanted to explore every inch of the mansion. As she ran up she heard the grouchy old woman growl. At the sound of it, she giggled and continued running. Jenna was rebellious, even at six years old.

   At the top, she stopped and looked to her right. A large room sat there waiting to be discovered. She tiptoed in and found a large, glossy, wooden desk and a chair that spun. As any small child would have, she plopped in it and started spinning as fast as she could. Finding herself dizzy, she got off and stumbled towards the bookshelf. There sat a bottle of yellow liquid. She quickly snatched it up and hid it under her dress.