Page 9 of In Her Grasp

The soft whirr of the engine was a subtle reminder of the distance they covered, both in miles and in the realm of the unexplainable. Jake’s eyes kept flitting to her profile. The afternoon sun cast shadows that played across her determined features, underscoring the resolve he’d come to recognize asintrinsic to her nature. There was an incongruity between what Jenna represented—a beacon of logic in the chaos of crime-solving—and the otherworldly gift she possessed. In spite of his admiration for her, it troubled him, this blending of the supernatural with the stringent parameters of law enforcement.

As the car took another turn, Jake noticed how the late afternoon light accentuated the unwavering focus in her eyes. He knew it was this very determination that had carried her through years of searching for Piper, and it was this same tenacity that would see them through the twisted path of the case ahead.

His thoughts drifted, unbidden, toward the warmth that seemed to simmer beneath the surface of their professional relationship—feelings he fought to suppress, concerned that anything more could complicate their partnership irreparably.

The landscape outside settled into a tranquil rhythm, mirroring the silence that had fallen within the vehicle. Jake let out a slow breath, reflecting on the expectations that had driven him from Kansas City to Trentville. He had imagined a simpler life, far removed from the noise and relentless pace of urban policing. Yet, the reality of small-town law enforcement had proven to be anything but simple. With its own set of intricacies, it tested him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

In particular, his work with Jenna had introduced him to depths he hadn’t known existed—both within the scope of their cases and within himself. Here, amid the quiet of the Missouri countryside, Jake found himself grappling with the complexities that came with change, with his evolving role beside a woman whose abilities transcended the realm of the tangible.

The quiet between him and Jenna had stretched into a canvas for his thoughts, thoughts he couldn’t voice. Did Jenna ever notice the way he lingered on her words, or how his eyes sought hers when she wasn’t looking? He doubted it. Her resolveseemed so strong that he wondered if she could sense anything beyond the case—or the question of her missing sister.

As the car approached the town limits, the local color of Trentville began to come into view: the weathered sign of Billy’s Barbecue, the sun-faded canopy of Miller’s General Store, the sharp clang of a hammer from McCabe’s Garage, and Mrs. Leary’s Diner where local gossip flowed as freely as the coffee. Everything stood steeped in sunlight and shade, a tableau of small-town life that seemed to endure against the march of time.

The cruiser turned into Frank’s driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. When they stepped out and knocked at the front door of his house, Frank greeted them quickly. “Afternoon, you two,” he said, a familiar warmth in his tone.

“Frank,” Jenna replied with a nod, their bond palpable in the simple exchange.

Jake followed Jenna inside, where the scent of freshly-brewed coffee mingled with the sweet tang of pastry dough. Frank ushered them into the kitchen, a comfortable room with worn wooden chairs and sun-faded curtains. The table was set with an assortment of pastries from the local bakery, their flaky crusts hinting at the skill that had crafted them. It was almost as if Frank had expected visitors. Somehow, it always felt that way whenever Jake and Jenna came for a visit. Frank’s hospitality was always at the ready.

Jake watched Jenna and Frank, their ease with each other born of years of shared history. Frank had long known about Jenna’s unique gift, a fact that still sat strangely with Jake. Jenna perched on a chair, her posture never quite relaxing, even as Frank pushed a steaming mug towards her.

“Thanks, Frank,” she said, cradling the warmth in her hands.

Conversation would soon turn to the grim reason for their visit, but for this moment, there was comfort in the mundane act of sharing coffee and sweets. Jake took a seat and acceptedhis own coffee, allowing himself to enjoy the brief respite, the normalcy of it a stark counterbalance to the day’s earlier revelations. His hand hovered over the table, briefly considering each of the sweet treats displayed before him and finally settled on a flaky, golden croissant.

Jake watched as Jenna leaned forward slightly, her focus sharpening like the blade of a well-honed knife. The mug seemed forgotten as she addressed Frank in a voice that carried the weight of her office.

“Frank, a man’s body was found earlier today in the Sablewood Reservoir,” she said, her words cutting through the comforting aroma of pastries and coffee.

Frank’s expression tightened imperceptibly, his gray eyes reflecting a glint of the old fire that had made him a formidable sheriff. “Had any dreams about this one?” he asked, his voice betraying none of the skepticism such a question might hold coming from anyone who didn’t know Jenna as well as he did.

“No,” Jenna replied, setting down her mug with a small clink against the table. “Nothing yet. Colonel Spelling and Dr. Stark are on it, but we haven’t got an ID for the victim.”

Jake observed the exchange closely. Frank’s question reaffirmed their shared knowledge of Jenna’s gift—a supernatural facet that Jake was still grappling to understand.

“The condition of the body suggests he’s been there for about two years,” she continued.

Frank’s hand paused from reaching for another pastry as he mulled over the information. His face became a map of concentration, each line etched by years of experience.

“Could be someone local then, missing around that time,” Jenna probed gently. “Can you think of anyone it might be?”

Frank squinted thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded.

“One,” he conceded, his voice low. “Maybe his demons caught up with him.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Frank fell silent, so Jenna leaned forward, her elbows pressing into the worn surface of Frank’s kitchen table. “You know who the body found in Sablewood Reservoir could be?” she asked eagerly.

“I can’t be sure of that,” Frank replied. “But I do know of someone who disappeared about that time. Mike Larson from over in Colstock.”

The name sent ripples through Jenna’s mind, stirring memories from back when she was Frank’s deputy. Mike Larson—a man more trouble than he was worth, with a rap sheet that spoke of drunken brawls and petty thefts. She nodded slowly, recalling how they had driven to Colstock on several occasions to deal with his misbehavior. That town was too small to have its own police department, so it relied on the Genesius County Sheriff’s Office for intervention.

“Jake, you weren’t around then, but Mike was a handful,” Jenna explained. “He’d get liquored up, start fights at the local bar, or just scare folks with his erratic behavior.”

Frank chimed in, “Had to haul him over here every time. The whole little town would breathe easier once we got him out of there for the night.”

“So, this guy was well-known for causing trouble?” Jake asked, leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest.

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