Page 18 of In Her Grasp

“We need to head to Colstock,” Jenna said decisively. “Talk to people who knew him—especially his widow. I’m coming to pick you up.”

“Give me twenty minutes,” Jake replied, the sound of rustling sheets in the background. “I’ll be ready.”

“See you soon,” Jenna said before hanging up. She felt the familiar surge of adrenaline that came with the prospect of untangling a new lead.

A moment lingered in the early morning quiet, where the only sound was the soft hum of her refrigerator in the next room. Then, she made another call.

“Frank, it’s Jenna. We’ve identified the body. It’s Larson, alright.”

Frank’s voice came through the line. “I thought it might be. Are you heading to Colstock?”

“Jake and I are on our way soon. Want to join us?”

There was a brief pause, and Jenna could almost picture Frank rubbing his stubbled chin in thought. “No, I think in this case, fewer is better,” he said finally. “Mary Larson’s been through enough. The last time she saw me was shortly after Mike’s disappearance. My showing up might just stir more pain.”

Jenna understood; Frank’s presence carried the weight of authority and a history that might close more doors than open them in this delicate situation. “Understood,” she acknowledged. “Thanks, Frank. If you hadn’t guessed the body might be Mike Larson’s, we’d never have gotten this far.”

“Glad to help out. Good luck, Jenna,” he said, leaving Jenna alone once again with the silence of her kitchen.

“Retirement suits you, Frank,” she murmured to herself, the hint of a smile fleeting across her face as she imagined him recounting his raccoon escapade to anyone who would listen. But he still had the instincts of a true lawman—instincts that had led directly to identifying Mike Larson’s body.

She grabbed her keys from a small bowl by the door, but before stepping out, she paused, another matter on her mind.

Flipping open her phone once more, Jenna dialed her mother’s number. The rings were short, quick bursts in the stillness of the early hour. When her mother answered, the alertness in her voice surprised Jenna, hinting at an unexpected vigor.

“Mom, it’s Jenna,” she said. “Have you looked in your mailbox yet?”

“No.”

“I dropped something off for you last night—it’s in your mailbox.”

“Something for me?” Her mother’s curiosity piqued through the line, a soft rustle suggesting movement on the other end. Jenna pictured her, perhaps already making her way toward the front door, curiosity replacing what was once a morning fog of hangovers. Jenna felt a twinge of apprehension. How was Mom going to react to Zeke’s list of AA meetings and support groups? Last night it had seemed like the right thing to do. But might Mom actually resent Jenna’s intrusion into such a personal matter?

She heard a rattle that must be the mailbox, then her mother’s voice crackled through the line, “Oh, I see. This is very thoughtful of you. Thank you, dear.”

“The one that’s circled in pencil is the meeting Zeke goes to,” Jenna said. “He recommends it.”

“That’s good to know. Like I said yesterday, I’m not ready for this kind of thing quite yet, but I’m sure I will be soon.”

Relief swept over Jenna like a cool breeze on a sweltering summer day. There was no resentment, only gratitude. “Love you, Mom,” Jenna said.

“Love you too.”

“See you soon.”

With a contented sigh, Jenna ended the call and slipped her phone into her pocket. She knew that her mother’s journey might be fraught with setbacks and struggles, but today, Jenna could bask in the knowledge that sometimes the smallest steps forward were the ones that mattered most.

When she stepped out into the early morning air, the first light of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold, casting a serene glow over Trentville’s quiet streets. As she locked the door behind her, the weight of her responsibilities seemed lighter somehow, bolstered by the knowledge that, despite the odds, there was progress.

She glanced around the neighborhood, noting the dew clinging to spiderwebs and the sleepy chirps of birds beginning to stir. It was a new day, ripe with possibility. The world was waking up around her, and with it, the reality of the task beckoned. Mike Larson’s case wasn’t going to solve itself, and Jenna had leads to follow, questions to ask. Yet, for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to savor the tranquility of the morning, a brief respite before delving back into the chaos.

Then she got into her cruiser and started the engine, her thoughts shifting gears to the investigation as she pulled away from the curb. Colstock awaited, with its own secrets and stories, and somewhere among them lay the answers she sought. Every intuition, every hunch, every dream might just bring her one step closer to unraveling the mystery that now consumed her waking hours as much as it haunted her sleep.

As she drove, the echoes of last night’s dream whispered ominously in the back of her mind. In all her years of receiving messages from the other side in her dreams, it was always the dead who sought her out. Now, the potential that a living soul could reach across the void of dreams unsettled her. Jenna had always assumed that her sister was alive because she’d never met her in a lucid dream.

But had the rules changed? If someone had told her dream self “I’m alive,” what did that mean and how could she find out?

CHAPTER TEN

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