Page 21 of In Her Shadow

“Understood, Colonel.My deputy and I will be there as soon as we can.”Her voice was steady, betraying none of the turmoil she felt.

“Make it quick, Graves.This one’s...it’s as bad as the other,” Spelling added.“We’ll need you here as soon as possible.”And with that, he clicked off, leaving Jenna alone with the silence and her galloping thoughts.

She sat motionless for a moment.The dream—so vivid and haunting with its cryptic warnings—seemed to bleed into reality.She would soon see Roger Bates again, not as a specter in her subconscious, but as a victim sprawled against a tombstone, branded by a legacy of violence.

The second part of the message from her dream tugged at her awareness: “The sky is too big for you.”What was it trying to convey?A warning?A limitation?

She called her deputy.“Jake, it’s Jenna,” she said.“There’s been another murder.Roger Bates.We need to get to his ranch right away.I’m coming to get you.”

“Understood,” came Jake’s immediate response, his tone grim.

Jenna set the phone aside and swung her legs off the bed.She paused, her feet touching the cool wooden floor, feeling the remnants of the dream cling to her.She stood abruptly, her movements mechanical as she shed the cotton t-shirt and shorts she slept in, replacing them with the crisp uniform that signified her role as Genesius County’s guardian.With each button fastened on her shirt, she willed herself to compartmentalize—to lock away the haunting dream that clung to her like a stubborn fog.

She glanced in the mirror, noting the pallor of her skin and the way her green eyes seemed dulled from the night’s phantasmagoria.The face staring back at her was the sheriff of Genesius County—resolved, relentless—but beneath the surface, Jenna wrestled with spectral warnings and premonitions.She ran a comb through her short hair, a physical attempt to rid herself of images that threatened to spill from her dream realm.

In the predawn dimness of her kitchen, she moved to the refrigerator and took out a carton of orange juice, her hands automatically pouring a glass.She drank deeply, the cold liquid a striking contrast to the lingering heat of her nightmare.She grabbed a granola bar, chewing methodically, the mundane act a grounding ritual amidst the chaos of her thoughts.Protein, carbs—fuel for the body, fortifications for the mind.That’s what survival looked like: one foot in front of the other, one bite after another.

As she swallowed the last mouthful of the bar, Jenna checked her duty belt, ensuring her service weapon, radio, and handcuffs were all secure before slipping into her patrol boots.She grabbed her keys and stepped outside, locking the door behind her.The coolness of the early morning air was welcome against her skin.She climbed into her patrol car and started the engine, allowing the thrum of the motor to fill her senses, a tangible reminder of the physical world.In her rearview mirror, the light of dawn crept across the horizon.

“Focus,” she whispered to herself, backing out of the driveway.As she navigated the quiet streets of Trentville, a silent resolve settled over her.Today would be a reckoning of sorts, a test of her ability to balance the seen with the unseen, the known with the unknowable.

The drive to Jake’s house was quiet, the world around her still held in the soft grasp of the pre-dawn hours.Even so, she felt as though she could still hear the echoes of the angry voices at last night’s meeting.And now the town had something new to fuel its outrage.

As Jake slid into the passenger seat of her patrol car, he gave her a reassuring nod.

“Spelling said this one is bad,” she told him.

Jake’s expression tightened with concern, but before he could respond, Jenna continued, her voice low, “I had another one of those dreams.”

“About the case?”he asked, already knowing the answer.

“More than that,” Jenna said, her grip on the steering wheel betraying the tension she felt.“Roger Bates appeared, crying out in fear...and then there was this other voice.”

Jake leaned forward slightly, urging her to continue.

“It said, ‘The land remembers.’And then, ‘The sky is too big for you.’”She relayed the words with a trace of awe, unsure of what they signified but certain of their importance.“It felt like a warning—maybe also a clue.”

“Those are some cryptic messages,” Jake admitted.“And the sky being too big...what do you make of that?”

“I wish I knew,” Jenna replied, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, even as her mind still grappled with the spectral images from her dream.

“Any theories?”Jake’s voice cut through her reverie, his eyes searching hers for fragments of insight that might piece together the enigmatic warning from her dream.

Jenna shook her head, her focus sharpening on the scene before them.“Not yet,” she admitted.“You know how my dreams work.The dead don’t always understand the messages they try to send me.And even if they do, they speak in riddles.But there’s a connection here we can’t ignore.We just have to find it.”

Their conversation dwindled as they neared Bates’s ranch, both lost in thought.Jenna’s mind circled the voice’s haunting message, while Jake pondered silently beside her, the trust and unspoken bond between them tangible.

The horizon bled with the blush of dawn as Jenna pulled the patrol car into a gravelly stop beside the Bates farmhouse.The property, usually a scene of pastoral stillness, was now a hive of urgent activity.State Police cruisers were scattered around, their red and blue lights casting an otherworldly glow against the awakening sky, while the coroner’s van sat ominously apart, its back doors ajar like a silent invitation to the grim discoveries.

Stepping out of the car, Jenna felt the gravel crunch beneath her boots, the sound oddly grounding amid the noise of radio chatter and shuffling feet.She straightened her sheriff’s jacket, steeling herself for what awaited as Jake joined her side.

They had barely taken a few strides towards the farmhouse when Colonel Spelling came striding toward them.His uniform was impeccable, but the lines etched around his eyes betrayed the gravity of the situation.

“Graves, Hawkins,” he greeted them curtly, his nod stiff and professional.Without preamble, he turned on his heel, beckoning them to follow.Jenna and Jake exchanged a brief glance before falling into step behind Spelling, their anticipation mounting.

Spelling led them past the farmhouse, where officers and forensic technicians moved with a well-rehearsed choreography, and towards the small, fenced burial plot that held a solitary tombstone—the same marker that had appeared in Jenna’s dream.The iron gate, normally secured, hung open like a broken jaw, its usual role abandoned.

As they crossed the threshold, Jenna’s breath caught at the sight that met her gaze.Roger Bates lay prostrate against Marie’s headstone, his body unnaturally still.The pre-dawn light cast across his features accentuated the stark terror frozen on his face.And there, seared onto his chest, was the brand – the same eerie tree-shaped symbol that had haunted her dream.

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