Page 47 of In Her Shadow

Then it was gone.

But in that moment, a warning surged through her veins.Frank—her mentor, her confidant, her surrogate father figure—was in danger.Jenna knew it with certainty.The dream, no longer just a figment of her subconscious, anchored itself in reality.It had been a premonition, an omen that she couldn’t ignore.She had to move, had to warn Frank before the nightmare that had visited her in sleep claimed them both in waking horror.

Jenna fumbled for the radio clipped to her belt.“Jake,” she said, “We need to double back to the house right now.Frank’s in trouble.”

The radio crackled to life, and Jake’s voice filtered through.“On my way.”

***

“Bob,” Frank said, “you kill me, and it won’t be ten minutes before Jenna and Jake are storming through that door.”He gestured towards the entrance, where the distant sound of approaching sirens pierced the night air.“Jenna’s sharper than you think, and Jake...well, he’s got a protective streak wider than the Sablewood River.They’ll catch you, and there’ll be no more sweet revenge then—just cold bars and a trial.”

A flicker of doubt passed over Bob Anderson’s face, like a cloud momentarily dimming a star.His grip on the revolver wavered, but his resolve did not crumble.

“Maybe so, Frank,” Bob conceded, the barrel of the gun still unwaveringly pointed at Frank’s chest.“But if this is to be my last stand, then let it be known I did everything in my power to right the wrongs done to my family.”

“Your ancestors,” Frank pressed on cautiously.“Do you think they’d want more blood spilled after all these years?”He watched Bob’s eyes, looking for any sign that he was reaching the troubled soul before him.

“Oh, yes,” Bob said.“The hope for revenge is the only birthright they were able to pass down to me.”

***

As Jenna and Jake approached the dilapidated farmhouse, an odd flickering light through a grimy window got her attention

“Jake,” she whispered, nodding toward the window.Together, they moved closer to see through it.Behind the dusty glass, Bob’s figure loomed ominously over Frank, who sat in a chair, his head bowed in resignation or strategy—Jenna couldn’t tell.Bob was holding a gun on Frank.The orange glow of a propane torch caught Jenna’s eye as it licked at a branding iron lying in the fireplace.The design being heated was the tree symbol that haunted their investigation.

“Bob’s gone over the edge,” Jake murmured.“We need backup.”

Jenna reached for her radio and whispered into it.“We need backup at Robert Anderson’s farmhouse.Suspect is armed and dangerous.”

The static crackle of confirmation barely registered as Jenna steeled herself for what came next.With a quick exchange of nods, Jake slipped away, moving towards the rear of the house.

Jenna stepped to the front door and tried the handle, but found the door locked.To create a distraction, she knocked sharply.“Sheriff’s Department!”she called out, her voice authoritative.

***

Frank felt a flash of hope at the sound of the knock and Jenna’s voice.Her distraction took immediate effect.Bob’s head snapped toward the door, the gun wavering in his grip.It was all the opening Frank needed.With an explosive burst of movement, he lunged for Bob Anderson’s gun.

As the two men grappled for the weapon, it discharged with a deafening roar.Plaster dust rained from the ceiling as the bullet found its home in the aged wood above.The propane torch got knocked over in the struggle, igniting the frayed edges of an old woven rug.Orange flames licked at the fabric, spreading with alarming speed across the floor.

***

After three ferocious kicks, Jenna kicked the front door open and burst into the room, her weapon drawn.At exactly the same moment, the back door crashed open, and she saw Jake storming into the room with his own gun drawn, his figure silhouetted against the flames already consuming the rug.

Faced with two armed opponents, Bob managed to move behind Frank, one strong arm around his neck to serve as a human shield while he held his gun to his head.But with a deep-seated survival instinct sharpened by years on the force, Frank ducked under Bob’s arm, writhing out of the desperate man’s reach.

Bob, his face contorted in wild dismay, stumbled forward awkwardly, seeking to maintain control over Frank.But Jenna knew that the seasoned lawman was no easy prey.Sure enough, he maneuvered deftly, using Bob’s momentum against him.

Still, with no clear shot at her opponent, Jenna physically launched herself at Bob, her athletic form a blur of motion.She and Bob both lost their grips on their weapons in the seismic impact of their collision.As their guns clattered across the floor, both of them crashed into a bookshelf with a thunderous roar.Wood splintered, and a cascade of old volumes and trinkets that carried the scent of dust and memories spilled around them.

Jenna felt the searing heat of encroaching flames.A scorch mark, black and angry, began to eat into the wallpaper.The floor beneath them was littered with the wreckage of generations—the Anderson family’s history in tattered pages and shattered frames.Jenna searched for an advantage, grappling with Bob’s wiry frame as he thrashed beneath her.

With an unexpected outcry, Bob bucked, throwing Jenna off balance.She felt the air rush out of her lungs as she hit the floor beside him, the fight sprawling into new chaos.

***

As he watched Jenna struggle with Bob, Jake couldn’t take a shot at Bob for fear of hitting Jenna instead.But Frank, not a split-second too soon, intercepted.His boot connected with Bob’s gun, sending it out of his hand and skittering across the wooden planks, far from reach.A metallic clatter echoed through the room, a small victory amid the bedlam.

“Freeze!”Jake commanded, but Bob’s response was a raw, primal defiance.He rose to his feet, his face marked with madness, the fury of a legacy he believed wronged spilling forth in every action, and lunged at Jake.

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