Page 35 of In Her Prayers

“Old records, interviews with anyone who knew him, worked with him, argued with him, anything that sheds light on who Kip Selves really was,” Jenna said, her words clipped and focused.“And if we’re lucky, we’ll find our connection to the murders.”

They drove on, the brick facade of the Sheriff’s Office building coming into view.The truth lay somewhere within the tangled web of facts and folklore, and Jenna Graves was determined to uncover it.

Jenna maneuvered the cruiser into its familiar space beside the Sheriff’s Office, the bricks of the building flushed with the warm glow of the descending sun.The day had already stretched her mind in unimaginable directions, and now, as they strode through the doorway, Jenna anchored herself to the task at hand: mining the past for clarity.

In her office, the hum of outdated fluorescent lights filled the air, casting a sterile light over her desk.She logged onto her computer, drumming against the top of her desk as theTrentville Dispatcharchives loaded.Jake leaned over her shoulder, watching the screen with an intensity that mirrored her own.

“Here we go,” Jenna muttered as she navigated through the digital records, her eyes scanning for any mention of Kip Selves.

The first article to catch her attention heralded the opening of Trentville’s inaugural electronics repair shop, operated by none other than Kip Selves.The piece described him as a visionary, a man who recognized the burgeoning need for such services as radios became a staple in the homes of Trentville’s citizens.

“Looks like Selves was quite the entrepreneur,” Jake observed, his tone a mix of admiration and skepticism.

“Seems so,” Jenna replied, her gaze still fixed on the screen.But her detective’s instincts prodded at her.It wasn’t just Selves’ business acumen that interested her, but how his story of progress might intertwine with grim tales lurking beneath the town’s surface.

As the dimness of evening began to creep into the corners of the room, Jenna felt the weight of the day’s revelations press upon her.Yet, a spark ignited within her—a flame fueled by curiosity and the unyielding drive to seek answers.With each click and scroll, the pieces of Kip Selves’ life during those decisive years came into sharper focus, revealing the blueprint of a man whose legacy endured far beyond his mortal days.

The room was quiet save for the soft clicking of the keys as she navigated the digital archives of theTrentville Dispatch.An image loaded on the screen suddenly gripped Jenna’s attention.

“Jake, look at this,” Jenna called out.

It was a black-and-white photograph accompanying a human interest story from decades past.A young boy stood beside Kip Selves, both of them surrounded by the innards of radios and other electronics.The caption identified the boy as Larry Clark, Selves’s protégé.Jenna’s pulse quickened as she recalled seeing Larry just last evening, a fixture of St.Michael’s Church, his silver hair now betraying the years that had passed since the photo was taken.

“Is that Larry from the church?”Jake peered over her shoulder, squinting at the screen.

“Yes,” Jenna confirmed, a chill coursing through her despite the warm July air outside.“He was Selves’ apprentice back then.”

“He looks young.No more than ten.It must have been exciting for him to be in the middle of all that new technology.”

Jenna thought of the man she’d watched tune the pianos at countless community events, whose gentle laughter had so often filled the rooms he entered.

“Larry has always been part of this town,” Jenna murmured.“I grew up watching him work.He’s...he’s kind.”Then she thought of her own years as deputy sheriff, learning from the man who was still her mentor.“But if the man he was apprenticed to … if Kip Selves was in fact a killer…”

“You’re thinking that could have affected Larry?”Jake’s question was laden with doubt.“That he could have followed up with murders of his own?But then what about the effect Selves had on David Cavanaugh if he knew or suspected … ?”

Jenna heard David Cavanaugh’s words about Selves again in her mind: “Dim figures … glimpsed in the corner of my eye.”Was David deluded, his consciousness twisted by death and pain?Could that have turned him into a killer?Or had it merely left him prone to flights of superstitious dread?

At the moment, It seemed to Jenna that they two possible suspects for the murders of Ezra Shore and Caroline Weber—David Cavanaugh and Larry Clark.

“The ring should tell us,” she muttered, the clack of keys punctuating the somber silence in her office.

Finally an old Purdue University yearbook loaded on the screen, and Jenna found a series of group photos of the class of 1970.Rows of black and white portraits stared back at them, young faces frozen in time.She scanned the page until her eyes settled on one group in particular.The caption underneath read: ‘Electrical Engineering’.

“Jake,” Jenna says, her voice barely above a whisper, “look at who attended Purdue University and graduated in 1970.”

Jake gasped aloud at the face and the name that appeared amid the students.

“So it’s him,” Jake said.

“That's what we're going to find out."Jenna replied.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Jenna exhaled slowly, her breath stirring the loose strands of chestnut hair framing her face.The lines under her eyes betrayed her fatigue, but the determined glint within those vibrant greens remained undimmed.The face staring back at her from the yearbook was a man who was not only part of Trentville’s community but also woven into her own childhood memories.

“That wouldn’t have been my first guess,” Jake commented.

Jenna looked again at the photo of the ring they had found in the cavity with Caroline Weber’s remains—the heavy gold band, now dulled by time and tarnished by awful deeds, the Purdue University crest and the date.The connection was undeniable.

---