Page 41 of In Her Shadow

Her voice had an easy cadence to it—calm and measured—that instantly put Jenna at ease.She stepped aside to let them in, her movements precise and purposeful—a testament to years spent upholding law and order in a courtroom.

As they entered the living room, Jenna couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe.It was as though she had stepped into a time capsule, an intimate chronicle of Genesius County’s past.Antique maps and sepia-toned photographs adorned the walls, each one telling a story of days long gone.A glass case housed an impressive collection of vintage coins and stamps, remnants of transactions and communications from another era.On one corner stood a worn-out fiddle and banjo, silent witnesses to countless community gatherings that Jasper must have enlivened with his music.

Stacks of old books towered precariously high on wooden shelves, their spines bearing the names of local authors and titles about Trentville’s history.Among them were dusty ledgers.In one of those that was laid open she saw meticulously penned records – births, deaths, marriages – tracing the town’s genealogy back generations.

In the heart of this living museum sat Jasper Rollins himself, a fragile relic in his own right, embodying the collective memory etched into every artifact around him.His frame was shrunken with age, his skin paper-thin and mapped with veins.His gnarled hands rested on the arms of a worn armchair that had clearly cradled him through countless hours of research and reflection.

“Uncle Jasper,” Agnes said softly, touching his shoulder.“We have visitors.”

Jasper looked up, and for a fleeting moment, Jenna saw a spark of the formidable intellect that had once made him Trentville’s most revered chronicler.But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, leaving behind only the frailty of a man whose memories were slowly slipping away.The historian’s eyes, clouded with age, flickered towards her, a slight squint forming as he attempted to make out the faces of his visitors in the dimming light of the room.

“Mr.Rollins, I’m Jenna Graves, the sheriff here,” she began gently, not wanting to startle him.“This is my deputy, Jake Hawkins, and the former sheriff, Frank Doyle.”

Agnes stood close to Jasper, her hand lightly touching his arm in a reassuring manner.“Remember, Uncle?They’re all from the sheriff’s office.Here to talk to you about some important matters.”

Jasper’s gaze shifted towards Agnes, and a faint smile creased his lips, acknowledging the familial bond if not the full context of the situation.“Try again, Sheriff,” Agnes whispered.

“Jasper,” Jenna told him, “there have been two murders during the last couple of nights—Clyde Simmons and Roger Bates.”

“Clyde Simmons … Roger Bates …” Jasper repeated vaguely.

“That’s right,” Jenna said.“You might be able to help us find their killer.We’ve come across something...a phrase that we think you could help us with.”She couldn’t tell if he was hearing her when she said, “the land remembers.”

The old man seemed to be searching, reaching for a connection that stubbornly eluded him.In that moment, Jenna felt an acute disappointment.She shared a look with Jake, seeing her own disappointment mirrored in his expression.

Jenna watched as Jake reached into the folder he had brought and withdrew a single sheet of paper—his detailed sketch of the cryptic brand that had been found seared into the flesh of the two victims.The symbol was stark against the white background, a tree with branched, intricate and haunting.He handed it to Jasper with a reverent slowness, as if passing over a sacred relic.

“Mr.Rollins, does this mean anything to you?”Jake asked.“Bates and Simmons were both branded on the chest with this image.”

Jasper took the paper, his gnarled hands trembling slightly as they made contact with the image.His gaze fixed on the design, and for a moment, there was no sign of recognition.Then, like sunlight piercing through clouds, clarity ignited in Jasper’s eyes.His lips parted, and a voice emerged, stronger than any words he’d spoken so far.

“The Big Sky,” he murmured.

In that instant, as Jasper whispered those three words, Jenna’s mind catapulted back to the unsettling landscape of her dreams.She remembered the spectral figure of Roger Bates and the ominous warning: “The sky is too big for you.”

“Jasper, please,” Jenna implored, leaning closer to the old historian.“What does that mean—’the big sky’?Anything you can remember could help us.”

But as quickly as the veil had lifted, it descended once again.He looked down at the sketch, then up at Jenna, his expression crumpling into frustration and agitation.

“I...I don’t...”he stammered, the words trailing off into a sigh.

“Jasper, it’s okay,” Jenna said gently, masking her disappointment.“You’ve helped us more than you know.”But she didn’t fully believe her own words.

“That might be enough to go on,” Agnes Rollins said.“Come with me.”

Agnes guided the trio through a narrow hallway lined with framed photographs of Trentville’s history.Jenna’s eyes flicked from one sepia-toned image to another, each capturing a fragment of time.When they came to a stop before a door, Jenna realized that Jasper had gotten onto his feet and followed them.Frank was now supporting the older man by one arm.

The door opened to reveal a small room where the past and present collided; walls of overstuffed filing cabinets stood around a sleek computer setup with a large screen.

“Here we are,” Agnes announced with the confidence of someone who knew what was collected there.“I’ve digitized most of Uncle Jasper’s records.It took the better part of winter, but it’s searchable now.”

“I’m searching for the words ‘big sky,’” Agnes muttered under her breath, as her fingers moved across the keyboard with surprising agility.

And then, there it was—a file labeled “Big Sky Ranch, 1859.”Agnes clicked it open, and the monitor filled with scanned pages of land deeds and faded letters, the ink of history bleeding through digital pixels.

“Here it is,” she pointed to an entry.“‘Big Sky’ was the name of a ranch.”

Jasper leaned forward, his eyes locking onto the screen as if it were a window.His hand trembled slightly as he reached out, almost touching the glow of the display.

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