What the Shadows Know, Ep. 19--Deeper Into the Killer's Web (Sammy)
A handsome reporter lures Beth back into the dark realm of a missing person's case, putting her in the crosshairs of a killer.
From the previous episode:
Jake Foster, who writes for a newspaper in Atlanta, reaches out for Beth’s psychic help. She remembers him when she had worked the Amelia missing person’s case.
She’d read two lines of his letter: “Beth, the public needs your help one more time. I want to talk to you about….” She didn’t need to see the rest, throwing it across her living room.
But then he called.
Wanted to meet.
And she found herself saying “yes”.
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Stepping outside, the leaves rustled overhead as a cool October breeze caressed Beth’s face, replacing the sweltering heat of the familiar Georgia summer. The rich smells of tangy red clay mingled with citrusy pine needles in the crisp air.
Halloween season had arrived. Skeletal figures and cobweb-draped tombstones leered from neighboring lawns. By day, the makeshift pine boxes and tangled ghoulish linens looked almost foolish, like discarded theater props. But when midnight cut the light, the wood seemed to rot into the soil, and the cloths seemed to come alive, reaching out into the dark.
Beth embraced the walk, a refreshing departure from the quiet confines of her home. Thankfully, it was an early Saturday afternoon with plenty of daylight left.
She had been watching the dramatic headlines of another missing 6-year-old, reminding her of Amelia. The police had come up empty. At least that’s what they had shared, publicly.
When Beth saw Samantha’s pigtails and toothless smile on the ten o’clock news, she tuned in just like everyone else. But nothing significant had been highlighted beyond the realm. Devoid of any vision, clue, or hint about the events, her mind was a blank slate despite the numerous announcements.
Sammy.
That’s what her family had nicknamed her. And now, the media did too.
Beth grabbed her sweater, tightening the fabric around her as she shivered while increasing her pace. Her eyes stayed fixed on the cracked concrete beneath her as she arrived at the cafe in record time.
For two weeks, Beth had met with Jake for coffee a few blocks from her older two-story house.
When she went inside, he already occupied what had become their regular spot, a booth near the large picture window facing the street, two mugs already waiting. Every encounter with him, he’d assured her that she would remain an anonymous source.
No publicity.
No name in the press.
No leak that she was involved.
Beth slid into the seat across from him. The sharp, toasted bitterness of freshly ground espresso collided with the sweet, caramelized warmth of steamed milk and a faint, comforting drift of cinnamon.
He cupped his mug with both hands, steam wafting with hints of chocolate and coffee aromas. Once she was settled, he pulled out several pages of neatly typed papers, placing them on the table.
“I brought it, like you asked. My ‘anonymous source’,” he said with a wink.
She couldn’t tell if he was flirting with her or trying to use his charm to get her to sign.
Probably both.
She gave his face a quick, searching glance. “If I sign this, nobody will know I’m involved?”
Holding the pen, hesitant, she chewed on her bottom lip while focusing on the print in front of her.
“Legally bound to keep you confidential,” he said, smiling, showing his straight, dazzling white teeth.
Beth pretended to read the document again, glancing over the words. She paused, the quiet hum of people talking in the subtle backdrop as she weighed her choices.
Her face became rigid, jaw locked, as the image of Sammy and her family flashed in her mind. A cold, heavy dread dropped straight to her stomach, souring it instantly.
As she tried to concentrate, Jake’s charismatic personality made it even harder to think clearly. She avoided eye contact, focusing instead on the weight of her decision.
A slender blonde waitress with a low-cut top sauntered in their direction with a coffee pot, even though their mugs were still brimming.
“Need a refill?” she asked coyly, facing Jake with her back to Beth.
“No, thanks,” he said, smiling.
The server leaned in with one hand on the table, her cleavage on full display. “Anything else I can get?”
Beth interrupted, a bit loudly, “Just one of those giant muffins on the counter will be great.”
Without taking her eyes off Jake, the waitress said, “Two muffins, coming right up.”
“Nope, only one SINGLE muffin. We’re sharing,” Beth said, her stare unwavering at the back of the waitress’ head.
“One? You sure?” She asked, her pouty smile fading as she looked at Beth, then back at Jake to confirm.
Beth’s voice rose, tinged with impatience, as she shot a frustrated look at the blonde. “Definitely one. We like our blueberries, right, honey?” She tilted her head toward Jake, her eyes challenging him to play along.
“Uh…yes, always,” he answered, amusement in his eyes.
The young woman stomped back to the counter, slamming the coffeepot down on the hot plate. The violent clang caused a suspended hush in the entire shop, for a split second, as every head whipped around to look.
“Trying to keep me all to yourself,” Jake said, eyeing Beth.
Beth turned to see where the waitress went and saw her occupied, talking to the other girl on shift. “Don’t get too full of yourself.” Not sure they were out of earshot, she lowered her voice. “How am I supposed to be ‘anonymous’ when googly-eyes over there is listening to every word?”
“You’re right.” He said, grinning as he placed a pen on the table. “So what do you think?”
Beth looked at the paper one last time before grabbing the pen and signing.
For Sammy.
She pushed the pen and papers back to Jake, crossing her arms with elbows planted firmly on the table. “Tell me what else you know so far.”
“Nothing really.” He spoke barely above a whisper, causing Beth to lean across the table to hear him. “The police really have no clues. A true cold file. Also, I overheard them talking about a few old cases where the girls were never found.”
“Old cases? Strange.”
“Yeah. Something about how they’d ‘seen this before’, a possible ‘serial killer’ or a copycat. One from over 20 years ago.”
“That long? Wow. I would’ve been the same age as Amelia and Sammy. Scary to think of.”
“Other than that. I’ve got nothing.”
“Well, I guess, the less I know—the better.” Beth looked down at her hands, remembering back to her first case. “With Amelia, it helped not knowing too much.”
“Think you can do it again?”
“Don’t know. It’s not like I can turn it off and on. Maybe some people can. Not me.”
“Then how does it work?”
“If I knew, I’d be rich.” Beth let out a big sigh, frustrated that Sammy was still missing and nobody knew where she was.
Although she wanted to help, part of her wondered if she was doing it for Jake too.
She hated to admit it.
During her marriage, River didn’t like Jake—called him “Jake the Snake”. And now, Beth was working with him, covertly.
“I just remember how it was during the Amelia case. Media swarming my house like paparazzi.” Beth’s leg bounced under the table, hoping this time would be different.
“You always peeked out the window. I remember that.”
“It wasn’t easy living in a fishbowl.” Beth dropped her gaze to the table, rubbing her hands together, slightly agitated.
“I guess your career took off,” she said, her voice flat, the words coated with a twinge of angst. “Received an award, if I remember correctly? I mean—at least, you got something out of it—or rather, it was good for you, I guess.”
Beth fought to keep her voice level, but the mention of the press brought it all rushing back—the flashing cameras, the shouting, the suffocating feeling of being hunted. Her fingers clamped onto her ceramic mug, squeezing until the blood left her knuckles and her hand began to ache.
“Thanks to you, that is. For the Amelia case and what you did.” Jake said, as Beth refused to look at him.
Suddenly, a plate rattled on the table between them as a waitress plopped it down, interrupting their conversation.
“One blueberry muffin,” said the brunette.
Beth looked around the shop. “Where did the other waitress go? The blonde one?”
“Oh, she had to help other customers,” the new one stated, pointing across the room before walking off and disappearing behind two swinging doors that Beth assumed was the kitchen.
Sitting on a faded, worn plate, Jake and Beth stared at the blueberry muffin the size of a man’s fist. Taking a butterknife, Beth cut the breaded behemoth.
Together they both sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts.
A deep breath filled Beth’s lungs, causing her shoulders to rise, then slowly sink as she let the air out. “Let’s just see what happens with this missing case.”
Her gaze met Jake’s, her brow furrowed with concern.
“I can’t promise anything.”
Copyright (C) 2026 T.H. Meyer, Author. All rights reserved.
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What the Shadows Know—Beth Cane’s glass-house life sits on the shifting sands of New Age promises and unhealed echoes of a traumatic childhood. After being haunted by creeping shadows and disturbing visions, she accepts that she was marked at birth—cursed. But when she encounters a cryptic stranger, his riddles penetrate through the heavy veil of darkness and confusion.
In a world of magic and self-help, the brightest light reveals the blackest shadow once a possessed stalker starts hunting Beth and her family. Hell’s fury appears in both the flesh and the unseen realm, where trust is blurred, and deception is a matter of life or death. In an epic showdown to escape the entities seeking to destroy her, Beth must embrace a mysterious and ancient truth. One that will shatter everything she’s ever known.
Watch Beth’s slow burn from fringe to faith—terrorized to triumph—haunted to healed. For fans of novels by Frank Peretti and Ted Dekker. Expect a bumpy but redemptive ride—eventually.
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