# Chapter 27: The Sign in the Mirror
Hello everyone, it’s me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 27 of *Forget You Saw Her free digital audiobook*. This chapter is a raw, simmering turning point—one where Sabina’s fury does not disappear, but it finally finds direction. It is a chapter about small-town secrets, coded cries for help, and the terrible possibility that everyone knew something and no one acted on it.
We open with Sabina behind the wheel, so angry that her hands are shaking. She has no destination in mind. All she knows is that she cannot stay in the house, cannot sit still, cannot let the rage keep building until she does something reckless. She is also starving. Between sleeping late, combing through Facebook, and falling into Joel’s dossier on Dennis Beaumont, she has eaten almost nothing all day except the last chocolate chip cookies from the Airbnb welcome plate. If she does not eat and clear her head, she knows she might drive straight back to the Beaumonts’ and start a screaming match—straight into a restraining order violation. And that would not help her. It would not help Andrea. It would only help Dennis Beaumont.
Joel’s warning echoes in her mind: never wrestle with a pig, because you get dirty and the pig likes it. So instead of charging back into a fight she cannot win, Sabina ends up in the parking lot of the Salty Sheep. The name stuck with her, but more than that, it feels like a safe place to hide and lick her wounds. Before she takes a seat at the bar, she slips into the restroom. She wants to see for herself what the restaurant owner posted on Facebook. The moment she steps into the empty bathroom, she sees it: a JUSTICE FOR ANDREA poster taped right in the middle of the long mirror. Beside it is a printed sign telling anyone who feels unsafe or needs help to use Andrea’s name at the bar as code—Ask for Andrea.
Sabina has already seen the photo online, but seeing it in person hits her like a wave. Love and gratitude rush through her, so strong it almost steals her breath. The anger from earlier does not vanish. It still burns. But it becomes less chaotic, less likely to send her flying at Dennis Beaumont. She stares at her own reflection hovering just above her daughter’s face—Andrea’s wide eyes a carbon copy of her own—and whispers, “That’s my girl.”
At the bar, Sabina nurses a glass of pinot gris and waits for her food, a pub favorite called the Sheeple Sandwich. While she waits, she texts Nadia about the restraining order and asks what she thinks about “Jenny Johnson,” the suspicious Facebook commenter. Nadia replies almost instantly with a line of angry emojis. She is outraged on Sabina’s behalf, but she also sees the silver lining: the restraining order means someone is scared. It means Sabina is onto something. Nadia is certain Jenny Johnson is fake. She almost banned “her” from the page because she kept copy-pasting the same claim about seeing Andrea at a soup kitchen. But Nadia also wants to see what else Jenny might reveal. It could be Dennis. It could be Bunny.
Then the bartender returns with the lamb sandwich, piled high with caramelized onions and chimichurri. Sabina’s mouth waters. She is hungrier than she realized. On impulse, as the bartender turns away, Sabina asks about the sign in the bathroom. Do people really “Ask for Andrea”? She does not want to reveal who she is, but she cannot stop herself. The bartender pauses and turns back. Yes, she says. A handful of times. She wishes they had done something like that sooner. Sometimes she can spot the girls who need help—the ones shrinking in their seats while their date, usually some guy who thinks he is hot stuff in a trucker hat, gets louder and grabbier.
Then she tells Sabina about last week. A woman sitting right over there had been slurring as if she were already drunk, even though the bartender knew she had served her only one Coors. The woman asked if Andrea was working tonight when she closed their tab. That one question changed everything. If she had not said that, the bartender would have let her date take her home to sober up. Instead, she made up an excuse—something about the woman leaving her purse in the bathroom—so she had to come with her. When they came back, her Tinder date was gone. He had roofied her.
Sabina fights back tears. She keeps her eyes on the sandwich so the bartender will not notice. The bartender’s voice hardens as she says it: we have to help each other out, because there are too many creeps out there. Then she leans back against the bar top and mentions the girl on the missing poster. She thinks about Andrea a lot. She was just seventeen years old. The bartender glances at Sabina, as if deciding whether to say more. Sabina gently prompts her, picking up the sandwich and taking a nibble. She tells the bartender it tastes as good as it looks. The bartender nods, but she does not smile.
Instead, she lowers her voice and says something she probably should not say. It will sound crazy, but when she saw the photos in the news articles about Andrea, she realized that Andrea’s dad had come into the Salty Sheep once, a few years ago. The bartender never forgets a face. He strutted in and plopped down at the bar like he was gracing her with his presence. When she brought his drink over, she noticed something red smeared on his top lip. Like blood. When she pointed it out, he wiped it off and gave her this weird smile. The bartender grimaces and shakes her head. Obviously, this was years before his daughter went missing, but what the hell? She told the police about it when she saw the story about Andrea in the news. No one ever followed up with her. She personally thinks he killed her.
The beautiful lamb sandwich suddenly tastes like cardboard in Sabina’s mouth. She forces herself to chew and swallow anyway. How many other people in this tiny community had a brush like that with Dennis Beaumont? How many had told the police? How many, like the Palphreymans, had simply moved on and tried to forget because the truth was too awful to consider? The police clearly had not acted on the bartender’s information—at least not yet. Sabina tells herself what Detective Barker said during her interview: he cannot go kicking down doors until the police build a case and have evidence to arrest him. But the red flags around Dennis Beaumont keep mounting. And those are only the ones Sabina knows about.
After her meal, Sabina walks back into the parking lot and stands for a few minutes, blinking into the sunlight as it slides toward the horizon. The temperature has climbed over ninety, warmer than it ever gets on the Oregon Coast in August. The air smells like grilled meat and fresh peaches, a delicate scent drifting from the orchards across the road. She takes another step toward the car, unsure where she is headed next. It is a little late to start making cold calls, but the long summer days still give her a couple of hours before dark.
So where should she go? She pulls out her phone and studies the map she has polka-dotted with pins: the Beaumonts’ house, her Airbnb, Andrea’s school, food banks, soup kitchens, and the homeless encampments Joel noted during his deep dive on Reddit. Most of the soup kitchens and encampments are a few miles away, nearly in Layton. She probably cannot reach them before darkness falls. But there is a small triangle of pins nearby—only a mile from the Salty Sheep. She zooms in. A soup kitchen and a couple of known encampments. If she leaves now, she can reach them before dark.
But what does she really expect to find? What is she even looking for? Would the soup kitchen still be open? Sabina closes her eyes and breathes in the strange, tantalizing smell of ripe fruit and grilling meat. Maybe it does not matter if she knows exactly what she is looking for. She had not expected the bartender at the Salty Sheep to have a story about Dennis. She had not expected to connect with Nadia and Paloma the way she did after stopping by Desert Greens. Maybe she will find more than she expects, wherever she goes next. Sabina is learning fast that Ogden is a small world. In some ways, even smaller than tiny Neskowin. This bustling community has a much larger population than her hometown of barely two hundred, but the people here seem connected in ways the coastal community is not. So many of them attended church together at one point or another. Maybe that is it. Regardless, it is becoming clear that if she keeps exploring, keeps asking for Andrea in her own way, she will find more threads to follow. And with that in mind, she sets off.
## Reader’s Impressions & Star Rating
This chapter is quiet and explosive at the same time. Sabina does not kick down a door or confront Dennis directly, yet the emotional stakes are enormous. The restroom mirror scene is haunting—Andrea’s face hovering just above her mother’s reflection, as if mother and daughter are still bound together by love and grief. The bartender’s story about the roofied woman proves that Andrea’s name has become a real lifeline, a code that saves lives. But the blood-on-the-lip detail about Dennis is chilling, and the fact that police never followed up is infuriating. The chapter captures how small towns can both protect and fail people, and how red flags can be ignored until it is too late. It left me heartbroken, angry, and hungry for the next clue.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.8 / 5 Stars
## Next Chapter Prediction
Sabina will head to the nearby soup kitchen and encampments before dark. There, she may find someone who has seen Andrea, or at least someone who knows more about the mysterious “Jenny Johnson” and the fake sightings. I also suspect she will cross paths with someone connected to Dennis Beaumont or Bunny—perhaps a person who was paid to stay quiet or threatened into silence. The map pins are tightening around a dangerous truth, and Sabina’s willingness to keep asking questions is about to put her closer to the answer she fears most. The next chapter may reveal a witness who is too scared to speak, or a new piece of evidence that makes the police finally take Dennis seriously. Either way, Sabina is no longer just grieving. She is hunting.
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