Page 39 of In Her Grasp

“Did you have any contact with them after that day?” Jenna’s question was a soft prod, coaxing more of the story from him.

“No.” Carl wrapped his arms around himself. “Never spoke to them again.”

“And now they’re all dead,” Jenna stated, not as an accusation but as a fact needing acknowledgment.

Carl’s eyes, rimmed red from his tears, met Jenna’s squarely. “I didn’t kill them. I swear. I wouldn’t …”

Jenna held his gaze for a moment longer before standing up. She could feel the weight of Colonel Spelling’s expectation as he stood at the cell door behind her, listening. Yet, she wasn’t ready to let this lead solidify into a conviction. Not just yet.

“Carl,” Jenna said, “you didn’t show up at the reservoir for work today. And you were packing your SUV to leave town. Why?”

The maintenance worker’s hands trembled in his lap, and he looked down at them as if they could provide an escape from the cold truth. “The bodies... finding them like that. I couldn’t take it,” Carl’s voice cracked. “It was all too much. I just had to get away.”

“Get away?” Jake interjected, skepticism in his tone.

“From Colstock, from the dam and the reservoir, from those memories, everything,” Carl continued, his eyes flicking up to meet Jenna’s searching gaze before darting away. “I thought a fresh start—”

“Didn’t you think running would make you look guilty?” Jenna asked, ignoring the Colonel’s interruption.

“I wasn’t thinking about how it looked.” Carl shook his head, his voice gaining a hint of desperation. “It was when I saw your car pull up, it hit me. You suspected me of murder. I just... I panicked.”

“Panicked?” Jenna echoed, studying him closely.

“Everything was closing in on me—I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight.” Carl wrapped his arms around himself, the action of a man trying to hold together his fraying edges.

“Okay, Carl,” Jenna said, signaling to Jake that it was time to step back and regroup. The interview had hit a wall; she could sense it. Her eyes lingered on Carl for a moment longer, tracing the lines of strain etched into his face before turning away.

“Let’s step outside,” she said, her voice low and even.

The trio filed out of the cell, the iron door clanging shut behind them as if sealing off the chapter they were leaving behind. In the sterile light of the hallway, Colonel Spelling squared his shoulders, the starched fabric of his uniform rustling softly.

“Good work in there,” he began, addressing Jenna and Jake but keeping his eyes trained on Jenna. “Reeves’ story is falling apart at the seams. It’s clear he’s our man.”

Jenna’s gaze drifted past the Colonel, focusing on the gray paint of the opposite wall. There was a calmness to her posture, a stillness that belied the churn of her thoughts.

“His fear seemed genuine,” Jake interjected. “But panic doesn’t necessarily mean guilt.”

“Doesn’t mean innocence either,” Colonel Spelling countered sharply. “We’ve got motive, opportunity, and his flight only adds to the pile of evidence against him.”

“Maybe,” Jenna finally spoke. “But something doesn’t fit. This case... it’s like a jigsaw with a piece that won’t slot in.”

Colonel Spelling shook his head, the glint of his badges seeming to flash in annoyance. “Sometimes you have to hammer that piece to make it fit, Sheriff Graves. That’s how justice is served.”

Jenna’s eyes met his, and for a moment, there was a silent battle of wills.

Then Spelling said confidently, “At least now I can pull my guys off of their guard duty at the reservoir. They’re needed on other patrols. Like I said, Sheriff, good work, today.”

Jenna shook her head in silent protest.

“Aren’t you convinced?” Jake asked Jenna, his tone low.

“Convinced? No.” Jenna’s voice was a soft murmur, almost lost in the ambient noise of the jail. “I’m not so sure this is over. Not by a long shot.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Something doesn’t add up,” Jenna insisted, her fingers threading through her short chestnut hair, pushing it back from her weary face. “Why would Carl choose to continue working at the reservoir if it had been the site of such trauma for him? More than that—after the first body was discovered, he actually took us out in a boat to dredge for the next one. He managed the grappling hook, helped get the body ashore. He didn’t show any sign of knowing whose body it might be, and his reactions to the remains were pretty much what you’d expect from an innocent man.”

“That’s precisely what makes him a prime suspect, Sheriff,” Colonel Spelling insisted with an unwavering certitude that left little room for debate. “Working there put him in proximity to the crime scene but also gave him cover. Besides, it’s not uncommon for killers to insert themselves into investigations.”

---