Page 19 of In Her Grasp

The soft morning light had already begun to bathe the landscape in a warm glow when Jenna guided the patrol car onto Jake’s gravel driveway. Jake’s front door immediately flew open, and the handsome deputy strode toward her, his uniform crisp despite the hour.

“Morning,” he greeted Jeanna as he climbed in, buckling his seatbelt with a habitual click.

“Morning,” she replied as she guided the car back onto the road leading to Colstock.

“Melissa Start sure made a quick ID,” Jake commented. “Matching up those dental records for us.”

“Melissa doesn’t waste time once she gets going. She’s really good at her job.”

“We’re lucky to have her working with us,” Jake said.

“We sure are,” Jenna replied, keeping her eyes on the winding road ahead. “But there’s something less fortunate I have to get done right now. I need to notify Mayor Simmons before somebody starts asking her uncomfortable questions.”

“I guess every job has its downside,” Jake commented.

Jenna’s fingers deftly entered the call from her contacts list. A press of a button and the speakerphone engaged, filling the car with the ringing tone.

“Good morning, Sheriff Graves,” came the prompt response from the other end, the Mayor’s voice brimming with expectancy. “What do you have for me?”

“Mayor Simmons,” Jenna began, maintaining a professional detachment. “We’ve confirmed the identity of the body found in Sablewood reservoir. It’s as we suspected—a man named Mike Larson, who lived in Colstock and disappeared some two years ago.”

“What do you know about him? What can I tell the press?”

“Other than his identity, we don’t know much more than we did when we talked with you before. Larson did have a record as a troublemaker, and it was assumed that he’d just abandoned his wife and gone off somewhere on his own. I’ll let you know whenever we find out more. We’re headed to Colstock now to speak with his wife, his widow.”

“Understood,” Mayor Simmons replied. Jenna could imagine the woman’s calculating gaze on the other side of the line, always anticipating the town’s reaction, each move considered for its political weight. When she spoke again, the mayor’s voice resonated with satisfaction through the patrol car’s speakers. “Excellent work, Sheriff. I’m sure you’ll be able to confirm that this was a straightforward suicide case.”

“Uh, Mayor Simmons, we can’t be sure—” Jenna began.

“Now don’t overcomplicate things,” Mayor Simmons said. “The corpse was wearing a backpack full of rocks. That sure sounds like suicide to me. We need to wrap this up quickly to avoid any unnecessary panic in the community.”

Then the line clicked dead, signaling the end of the call.

Jake glanced at Jenna, his eyebrow arching with a silent question. Jenna felt a familiar tightness in her chest, a constriction she experienced whenever politics got tangled with police work.

Then Jake said, his tone laced with skepticism, “Seems like the Mayor has her mind made up already.”

“Yeah, she does that,” Jenna muttered, her eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“The Mayor seems pretty set on the suicide theory, doesn’t she?”

“Surely does. It’s the most convenient explanation, and I guess she’s likely to spread that story. I wish she wouldn’t. I’ve got reasons to think it’s not that simple.”

“What makes you say that?” Jake leaned forward, interest piqued by the hint of doubt in Jenna’s voice.

Her response came slowly, as if each word was being carefully selected. “I had another dream last night, Jake. A lucid one.” She spared him a brief glance before returning her gaze to the road.

His silence invited her to continue. “A male figure emerged from the water at the Sablewood Reservoir.” Jenna’s voice was even, but the vivid imagery of the dream replayed behind her eyes with unsettling clarity. “He only said a few words, and he kind of melted right back into the water before I could get any answers from him.”

Jake listened with both concern and curiosity. He knew better than to dismiss Jenna’s dreams; they’d been a help in more than one investigation, guiding them through murky waters.

“So what do you think it means?” Jake asked.

“Something significant—I can’t yet put my finger on what it is,” Jenna admitted, her tone edged with frustration. “Why would I dream about someone trying to reach me if Larson died by suicide? So far, spirits of the dead only visit me when there’s a murder to solve. That’s what leads me to think it must be murder.” She glanced at Jake, and then added. “He only said one thing clearly: ‘There are three of us.’”

Jake remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. “Your dreams have helped us before. Do you think this means there are more bodies in the reservoir?”

“Maybe. But I’m confused about the only other thing he said. It was garbled but sounded like he said, ‘I’m alive.’”

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