Page 10 of In Her Grasp

“Like clockwork,” Jenna replied, her mind tracing back through the years. “Every few months, there’d be some kind of incident. We’d drive over after getting a call from one of the Colstock residents, find Mike ranting in the street or throwing punches, and then bring him in to cool off in a cell.”

“Remember how his younger brother Tommy would show up the next morning?” Frank asked. “The kid always looked like he hoped it’d be the last time.”

Jenna nodded. Tommy Larson, with his worn farmer’s tan and earnest eyes, had stood before them, signing release papers with a hand that barely trembled. “He paid the fines without a word, just took his big brother home,” she said, remembering Tommy’s resigned expression. “It was a sad cycle.”

She remembered the frustration of repeated trips, the annoyance of the citizens, the disappointment in Tommy Larson’s face as he came to bail out his brother yet again. It was a pattern they all knew too well, and one that seemed never-ending—until the day when Mike had vanished without a trace. Could the reservoir have been Mike Larson’s final stop?

“Mary Larson came to us first,” Frank continued, leaning back in his chair. “Saying that Mike had gone missing. Distraught wife, fearing the worst.”

Jenna remembered that day well, the concern etched into Mary’s face, the slight quiver in her voice as she filed the missing person’s report. “But everyone else was convinced Mike just up and left,” Jenna reminded Frank. “He’d threatened to more than once—said one of these days he’d leave, and no one would hear of him again. Even Tommy argued his brother probably ran off, looking for something better in life. Given his drinking, though...”

“If he did walk away, it most likely wasn’t toward a long, happy life,” Frank agreed solemnly. “He was on his way to drinking himself to death already. But it wouldn’t have been the first time someone from these parts chose to disappear. Making their way out of Genesius County, trying to escape from one thing or another, demons or debts.”

“Sounds like he was a real piece of work,” Jake murmured.

“More than you know,” Jenna said, a hint of weariness threading through her words. “Nobody much missed Mike after he was gone,” she mused aloud. “Not even his wife. She seemed to finally accept the theory that her husband had simply abandoned her along with his former life.”

Jenna’s gaze shifted to Frank, acknowledging the grim reality they both knew well. People like Mike Larson, swallowed up by their own demons, often left scarcely a ripple behind. “Could be,” Jenna continued, half to herself, “we’re looking at more than just a man running away from his life. Maybe we’ve stumbled upon the end of it.”

“Did Melissa mention anything about the manner of the victim’s death?” Frank asked, breaking the hush that had settled over them.

Jenna nodded, the details surfacing in her mind with clarity. “The body was found with a backpack full of stones,” she relayed, the image vivid in her memory. “One possibility is a suicide by drowning.”

Frank leaned back, his chair creaking softly under his weight. “That’s a bleak way to go,” he murmured. “But if it’s true, it could mean we’re not on the hunt for a murderer this time.”

“Melissa thought the same thing,” Jenna confirmed. There was a certain relief in considering that possibility. As much as suicide was a tragedy in its own right, the idea of another killer roaming the county so soon after closing two serial cases was a chilling prospect they were all keen to avoid.

Jake nodded slowly, taking in their words. “Do you know whether anyone ever heard from him after he went missing?”

Frank shook his head no, and Jenna replied, “Nobody has ever mentioned ever hearing from Mike Larsen to me. Of course, our attention has always been on current cases, but I’m sure his wife or brother would have given me a call if he’d contacted them.”

“Shouldn’t we find out for sure?” Jake’s question, earnest and logical, sought to pierce the shroud of uncertainty. “We could head over to Colstock. Talk to his wife or brother.”

“Easy, Jake.” Frank’s caution carried weight. “We can’t rush to conclusions based on hunches. We need something concrete before we go stirring up old ghosts in Colstock. It would be hard on the family even now—especially if our guess turns out to be wrong, which is not unlikely.”

Jenna agreed with a nod. She respected Frank’s judgment, knowing that patience often unveiled more truth than haste. Evidence was key, and without it, they risked causing unnecessary pain.

“Until we get some kind of report on the body,” Frank added, fixing his gaze on Jenna, “we should wait.”

Jenna’s mind ticked over the facts as she retrieved her cellphone from the pocket of her blazer. “I’ll check with Melissa,” she said.

The room fell into a hush, punctuated only by the soft click of the phone’s buttons as she navigated to Melissa Stark’s contact information. Jake and Frank leaned in subtly, their attention on the device Jenna held. Her finger hovered over the call button before pressing down decisively and putting the call on speakerphone.

“Melissa Stark,” came the prompt answer after two rings, the coroner’s voice professional and alert.

“Melissa, it’s Jenna Graves. Do you have any news on the John Doe from Sablewood Reservoir?”

“No, nothing to tell you just yet,” came the reply.

“We have a possible lead on the ID,” Jenna said. “Just a guess, but a reasonable possibility. At least, someone you could look into.”

“Go ahead.”

“Jake and I have been going over the case with Frank Doyle. We think it could be Mike Larson from Colstock—he disappeared about two years back. Mike had a troubled history with us, and at the time it seemed likely that he had just walked away.” Jenna watched Frank’s affirming nod out of the corner of her eye.

“Mike Larson...” Melissa repeated thoughtfully. “From Colstock you said. That could be significant. I’ll start the process to acquire his dental records for comparison.”

“Will you have to contact his wife or brother for that? We’d rather not stir up bad memories if we’re wrong about this.”

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