Page 37 of In Her Prayers

The four other officers piled into two other patrol cars, ready to follow.As the three vehicles ate up the miles to Larry Clark’s house, Jenna felt the final barrier of doubt crumble within her.There was no turning back now.Jenna gripped the steering wheel.This was it—the precipice of revelation.

They drove in silence, the night enveloping them as they made their way down the winding road toward Larry Clark’s house.The beams of their headlights cut through the dark, symbols of their intent to illuminate the hidden stories of Trentville.Jenna’s mind churned with the implications of what they were about to do.Confronting Larry Clark meant uprooting the life of a man she had known since childhood, a man who had provided the soundtrack to many of Trentville’s milestones with the melodies from well-tuned pianos.

As the distance closed between them and their destination, Jenna couldn’t escape the sensation that they were about to cross an irreversible threshold.This arrest would reverberate through the very soul of the town.

As the lights of Larry Clark’s house came into view, Jenna steeled herself.The two patrol cars rolled to a stop, and the team got out quietly.The night air was thick with the scent of summer, a reminder that life continued its relentless march even as they prepared to confront the unthinkable.Jenna glanced over the house that was their target.Everything seemed quiet, peaceful.

She gave her team specific instructions: “Jake and I will approach the front door.Rob, Tom, you’ll cover the back.Sarah, I want you positioned outside the workshop; he spends most of his time there.If he runs, he won’t get far.”

With that, they moved forward to confront a killer.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Larry Clark’s house was a modest one-story structure with weathered siding and a shingled roof that had seen better days.A porch light was on above the front door.

“Looks like he’s home,” Jenna murmured, indicating Larry’s silver sedan.

She looked at her team, noting the grim resolve on each face.“Let’s go,” she said softly.

They spread out according to her instructions: two headed around the house to cover the back entrance, and another moved toward the workshop that was off to one side.Officer Tebbe fell into place behind Jenna and Jake.

At the front door, Jenna pressed the bell, the chime echoing hollowly inside the house.She leaned closer to the doorframe.

“This is Sheriff Graves with the Genesius County Sheriff’s Department,” she called out, her voice clear and authoritative.Silence greeted them, no shuffle of feet or murmur of a voice from within.

“Mr.Clark, open up.We need to talk to you,” Jenna tried again after a moment’s pause, tension tightening her shoulders.Still, no response came.She exchanged a glance with Jake, seeing her own frustration mirrored in his eyes.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” she murmured to him, her intuition twitching like a live wire beneath her skin.

“Agreed,” Jake said quietly, his hand instinctively resting on the service pistol at his hip.

“Let’s prepare to breach,” Jenna announced.She texted the other members of the team: “No response, we’re going in now, stay alert.”

“Officer Tebbe,” Jenna commanded, “use your lock pick.We’re going in quietly.”

Rob Tebbe, a lanky officer with nimble fingers well-suited for delicate tasks, nodded and approached the door.With practiced ease, he knelt and worked the kit, his movements precise and fluid.

Finally, with a soft click, the door yielded.Jenna stepped across the threshold first, her senses heightened, every nerve attuned to the environment.Only silence met them.

“We’re going to do a search,” Jenna told her team.“But be on guard.”

They dispersed into separate quarters of the house, meticulously rummaging through closets, cautiously sliding open drawers, every nook and cranny examined under the penetrating glow of their flashlights.

It wasn’t long before Jenna heard the distinctive voice of Officer Tebbe from a nearby room.

“Sheriff, you better see this,” he called out, an edge of uncertainty in his tone.

She moved swiftly, Jake close behind, until they reached the cramped space that Tebbe had claimed.On the wall opposite them hung four picture frames, regimented in their alignment, and each bordered by a black cloth drape.Three frames were filled with photographs, faces captured in still life, their eyes seemingly following Jenna as she approached.The fourth frame, conspicuously void of content, loomed like a silent accusation.

Jenna’s breath caught as her gaze fixed on the faces within the frames.They were not strangers; they were the very people that had haunted her dream—Rachel Cavanaugh, Ezra Shore, and Caroline Weber.She’d never met them alive, yet there they were, looking back at her again from beyond the grave.

“Jake,” she whispered.

“Your dream,” he murmured softly so that only she would hear, the realization dawning on him as well.Jenna nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the chilling display.

“We know of three who went missing,” she said to Jake.“And two of those were found in the church walls.I believe that the third is there too.But the fourth frame …”

They both understood the implications all too well—the empty frame wasn’t just odd, it was an omen.The vacant space amid the portraits of the deceased signaled an intention, a promise yet to be fulfilled.The draped black fabric, mimicking funereal customs, was reserved for a future victim—an anticipatory tombstone, waiting for the face of the next soul unfortunate enough to cross paths with the homeowner.

---