Page 34 of In Her Grasp

Jenna watched, noting the subtle tremble in his hands as he spoke. A man who seemed to pride himself on his stoicism was visibly shaken.

“Then he didn’t just leave,” Tommy concluded, the words heavy, hesitant, as if saying them aloud made the truth irrefutable. “Someone murdered him, just like they did Mike.”

The farmhouse kitchen, with its worn table and sunlight streaming through gingham curtains, felt suddenly claustrophobic. Jenna observed Tommy Larson’s reaction. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated—a physical response that she had learned to read as an officer of the law. She needed to tread carefully; Tommy was already on edge.

“Tommy,” Jenna said quietly, “does the name ‘Jimmy’ mean anything to you? Maybe in relation to Mike or Clive?” The words hung in the air, a silent plea for the truth without divulging the ethereal source of her knowledge.

The question seemed to jolt Tommy, his eyebrows knitting together as if he was trying to place the name within the tragic tapestry they were unraveling. “Jimmy?” He repeated, his voice betraying his surprise at the mention. It was clear that this line of questioning hadn’t been anticipated.

Jenna held her breath, watching intently as Tommy processed the inquiry. She waited, her gaze not wavering from his as she sought to understand his connection to the name she had fished out from the depths of her dream.

“Yeah, it sure does,” Tommy said abruptly, standing up from the table with a sudden vigor. “Let me show you something.”

He moved across the kitchen and reached for a faded photo album on a high shelf. He flipped through the pages, stopping at a photograph that seemed to resonate with him. “Here,” he pointed, turning the album towards Jenna and Jake.

Three boys smiled back from the past, youthful faces frozen in time on the edge of the Sablewood Dam. Jenna’s heartquickened as she recognized them—three of the boys that had haunted her dreams the night before.

“Those are the boys,” Tommy muttered, almost to himself. Jenna studied the image: the carefree grins, the casual slouches against the backdrop of the reservoir. They were clues distilled in ink and paper and as real as the tension that filled the room.

“Three of the four,” Jenna thought silently, recalling the ghostly visage of another boy lingering in her dream—a puzzle piece yet to find its place. She reached out and gently traced the edges of the photograph, feeling the weight of the revelation it carried.

Jenna’s gaze fixed on the photo, her mind whirring as Tommy began to put names to faces. “That’s Mike, my brother,” he said, tapping his finger against the image of a boy with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And there’s Clive... ‘Sly’ we used to call him,” a soft chuckle escaped Tommy as he pointed at the second boy, whose smile seemed to hold secrets. “And the one on the right, that’s Jimmy Koontz.”

“Jimmy Koontz,” Jenna repeated quietly, the name cementing itself in her memory alongside the visions from her dream.

“His family moved to St. Louis while we were in high school,” Tommy continued, leaning back slightly as if the years were stretching out before him. “We lost touch pretty quick after that. Never heard from him again.” His voice trailed off, betraying a hint of the same loss Jenna felt every time she thought of Piper.

Jenna absorbed this information, her mind already sifting through the implications. It was another piece in the puzzle, but the edges didn’t quite align with the rest of the picture she had been assembling. If Jimmy was the third, who was the fourth boy who had appeared in her dream?

“Who took this photo?” Jenna asked abruptly. The presence of the fourth boy, a specter in her dreams, loomed over her thoughts.

“Must’ve been Carl Reeves,” Tommy answered without hesitation as he peered closer at the photograph. “He was always hanging around with them. They were inseparable.”

“Carl Reeves...” Jake echoed. “The maintenance worker at the reservoir?”

“Yeah, that’s what I hear he’s doing these days,” Tommy confirmed. “Back then, he always had his camera ready.”

Carl Reeves—the man who had navigated them across the murky waters of Sablewood Reservoir to uncover Clive Carroway’s watery grave—had neglected to mention his ties to these very victims.

What had he been trying to hide?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Jenna was about to thank Tommy Larson for his help and head back to her car. She and Jake needed to confront Carl Reeves, but Tommy sat back down at his kitchen table and gestured to the other chairs clustered around it. The expression on his face was thoughtful.

“You know, it’s strange,” he murmured.

Jenna turned back to hear what Tommy was trying to say.

“How things change,” he mused, almost as if to himself.

“Indeed, it can be,” Jenna replied. Wanting to know what else Tommy could tell them, Jenna sat down in one of the chairs he offered and Jake took another.

Betty Larson still stood by the kitchen counter, watching them, looking like she didn’t know what to do. Then she started collecting mugs to bring them coffee.

Jenna leaned in slightly, elbows on the scarred table, allowing herself a closer look at the man who seemed to have more to tell them. She noted the slight tremble in Tommy’s hands as he set down his coffee mug. The deep lines in his palms spoke of hard labor, each one a testament to years spent working the land. But it was his eyes that captured her attention; his focus on old memories seemed to be casting shadows there.

Without a word, Betty Larson set down mugs of steaming coffee in front of Jenna and Jake, then she placed cream and sugar within reach. They both thanked her, and she retreated silently, again watching from across the room.

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