Page 14 of In Her Grasp

“Thanks, Sarah. I knew you would be ready to handle it,” Jenna responded, ending the call with a sense of relief.

She and her two companions assured Hilda that everything would soon be taken care of, then bid her goodnight and stepped out onto the porch.

“Another day in Trentville,” Jenna murmured.

Frank clapped a reassuring hand on Jake’s back. “Well, that was certainly an adventure, wasn’t it, son?”

Jenna couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The building of a bond between the aging former Sheriff and the younger deputy was essential to their small team dynamic.

Jake grinned as he brushed at his sleeve, dislodging a stubborn strand of cobweb that had hitched a ride during their impromptu raccoon removal. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting to add ‘raccoon wrangler’ to my resume today,” he said with a chuckle.

“Neither did I,” Jenna replied, keeping her tone light.

“Makes the job interesting though, doesn’t it?” Jake mused, his gaze lingering on Jenna for a moment longer than necessary.

“Interesting” was certainly one word for it, Jenna thought. Tonight’s ghost hunt may have ended in fur and raccoonchitters, but Jenna knew all too well that not every shadow held such innocent secrets.

They got into the cruiser and Jenna turned the key in the ignition, the low rumble of the patrol car’s engine breaking the evening quiet.

“You know,” Frank murmured, his gaze fixed beyond the window, “days like this... they remind me why I loved this job so much. Helping people, even with the small things. It feels good to still be useful.”

“Frank, you’re always useful,” Jenna replied. “I’ll never be able to do my job without your insight and experience.”

Frank gave a grunt that might have been agreement or modest dismissal. She shifted the car into drive, pulling away from the curb smoothly, the quiet night enveloping them once again as they left behind Hilda Thornton’s house and the attic-dweller that was soon to be evicted.

The streets of Trentville were nearly empty, adorned only by the occasional flickering streetlight or the dim glow escaping from a resident’s window. The patrol car’s engine hummed softly as it rolled to a stop in front of Frank’s house, the modest bungalow now bathed in the glow of a porch light.

“Thanks for today, Frank,” she said.

Frank nodded, his hand resting on the open car door as if reluctant to part ways. “Keep me posted on the case, will you?” he requested. Then, with a shift in demeanor, his gaze locked onto Jenna’s. “And Jenna,” he added, “don’t forget to ask your mother about that sandpiper dream. Could be important.”

Jenna acknowledged with a quiet, “I will.” She watched him step out into the night, the lines of his figure a familiar silhouette against the amber porch light before disappearing into the comfort of his home.

With Frank gone, Jake moved to the front passenger seat. A hush fell over the car as Jenna redirected their course.

“You okay?” Jake’s voice cut through the stillness.

Jenna exhaled slowly, her focus unyielding on the road ahead. “Yeah, just... preparing myself,” she replied, the weight of responsibility settling on her shoulders. “You know how these meetings can be.”

“I guess we might as well get it over with,” Jake commented. “Since she seems to always work late hours anyhow.”

As Jenna pulled the cruiser up to City Hall, they could see that the windows of the granite edifice were lit brightly and people were still stirring about inside. It was here that decisions were made, directions changed, and futures determined—and the Mayor considered the job so important that she and many who worked for her were available during a wide range of hours.

Jenna killed the engine and stepped out into the cooling evening, and Jake followed suit. They ascended the steps side by side, the rhythm of their footsteps marking their approach. The double doors loomed before them, brass handles gleaming under the exterior lights.

Inside, Jenna led the way to Mayor Claire Simmons’s office, her strides purposeful. She rapped twice on the heavy wooden door before pushing it open.

“Mayor Simmons,” Jenna began, her voice steady as she recounted the day’s findings. Her emerald eyes held the Mayor’s strong gaze, unwavering as she spoke of the disturbing possibility that the corpse discovered might belong to Mike Larson, a name synonymous with various troubles in these parts.

Mayor Simmons, sitting behind her desk like a queen on her throne, leaned forward. Her nails, the color of ripe cherries, tapped a staccato rhythm against the polished wood—a clear sign of impatience. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she demanded. “You need to go to Colstock immediately. Talk to Larson’s family, his friends. We need answers, Sheriff.”

Jenna met the Mayor’s intensity with calm resolve, her mind already sifting through the logistics of such an undertaking. She drew in a controlled breath, gathering her thoughts before speaking. “With all due respect, Mayor, that would be premature. We don’t have a positive ID yet. Dr. Stark is working on that and should have results by morning.”

The Mayor’s hawkish gaze sharpened, her dissatisfaction clear as she leaned back in her chair. “I don’t think you understand the urgency of this situation, Sheriff. I’m telling you to go to Colstock now.”

“Mayor Simmons,” Jenna said, her voice inflected with the authority of her office, “I was elected to serve and protect this community, just as you were chosen to lead it. I will not be swayed by political agendas. I make my decisions based on proper procedure and what’s best for the investigation. We will follow up in Colstock once we have a confirmed identity. We’re hoping to find that out tomorrow morning.”

The standoff between Jenna and Mayor Simmons reached a silent crescendo, the air in the office charged with their unyielding wills. Jenna’s gaze didn’t waver, challenging the Mayor’s hawkish stare without flinching. She could hear Jake standing just behind her, shifting his weight from one foot to another, his discomfort manifesting in a brief clearing of his throat.

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