Page 40 of In Her Prayers

Jenna and Jake had joined the town-wide search for Larry hours ago, but so far, neither they nor anybody else on the team had found any sign of him.

“I want to go check in with Colonel Spelling at the church before he wraps up his work there,” Jenna said.

Before Jake could reply, his cellphone buzzed, and he looked at the screen.

“A couple of our guys just texted and said they’d join the search,” Jake said.“But they’re rookies.I should fill them in and get them started.Why don’t you drop me off at my house so I can take my own car?We can join up later.”

It felt odd to Jenna that they wouldn’t be working together for a while, but she did what he asked.She pulled her cruiser up to Jake’s house, the headlights briefly illuminating the familiar facade.The two sat for a moment in the quiet of the car, reluctant to part ways.Then Jake touched her hand once and got out and walked toward his car.

“Stay safe,” Jenna whispered to no one as she drove off, although the plea seemed futile in this game of cat and mouse with a killer.

As Jenna pulled her car up in front of the church, Colonel Spelling’s team could be seen through the open doors, their silhouettes weary from the search that had yielded nothing but despair.Jenna parked and approached just as Spelling gave the order to pack up for the night.

“Colonel,” Jenna called out, her voice cutting through the night’s stillness.

Spelling turned, his face marked with fatigue.“Jenna, I didn’t expect to see you back here tonight.”

“Couldn’t shake the feeling that we’re missing something,” Jenna admitted.“Frank—is he still here?”

“Left about fifteen minutes ago.He’d done all he could for the day.One of my guys drove him home.We still haven’t found anything else here, and I’m going to shut it down for the night.We need to get out on the street and help with the search.Besides,” Spelling added with a dry chuckle, “the dead aren’t going anywhere.”

The remark would have been macabre under any other circumstances, but here, it was a grim acknowledgment of reality.Jenna’s lips tightened into a thin line, recognizing the truth in his words.

“Quite unlike our suspect, who must know lots of places to hide,” Spelling continued, the humor gone from his voice.“Larry Clark’s still out there, and I need to get my whole team out on the street.

“Jake’s getting a couple more of our officers started.”

Spelling looked at her more closely.“You should get some rest, Jenna.We need you sharp.Maybe you should turn in for tonight.”

“Thanks, maybe I will,” Jenna said, although she knew perfectly well she was going to do nothing of the kind.

Spelling led his team out, leaving the sheriff alone in the cavernous space of the nave.As the heavy doors closed behind them, Jenna found herself enveloped in silence, a startling change after the earlier bustle of activity.

The sense of solitude was profound, and for reasons she couldn’t fully articulate, Jenna felt a reluctance to leave.It was as if the church itself, with its secrets and somber history, held her tethered to the spot.She couldn’t shake the thoughts of David Cavanaugh’s claims from her head.He believed the church was haunted by the specter of Kip Selves, an idea she had dismissed as an old man’s fancy.

Here with only the silent saints for company, it was almost too easy to imagine a wraith drifting through the arches, a lingering soul caught in the web of its own tragedy.The very air seemed charged with whispers of the past, and Jenna felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air.She knew such thoughts were irrational; superstitions had no place in her line of work.Yet, in the palpable silence of the church, logic seemed to fray around the edges, like the worn pages of an old hymnal.

Continuing her solitary walk, Jenna let the memories of Caroline Weber float into her consciousness.She remembered the vivid dream where Caroline’s voice had filled the silence with a deep, soulful blues song.It was strange to think of Caroline, whose life had been cut short so violently, filling the same space Jenna occupied now with music and dreams of stardom.

The urge to sing the blues melody that had haunted her dream rose unbidden within her.The words felt like a key to something locked away, something vital about the darkness that enshrouded the church.With a glance over her shoulder, ensuring she was indeed alone, Jenna hesitantly began to hum the tune, allowing the notes to fill the void.

Her voice, though not trained like Caroline’s, carried a raw emotion that resonated off the stones, wrapping around her in an almost tangible embrace.It was an act of remembrance, a tribute to the lost souls who had once filled this space with their own hopes and songs.

With a measured breath, Jenna let the first line of the blues song escape her lips, “I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees.”

Her voice was a tentative whisper, barely more than a hush against the backdrop of shadows.The words lingered for a moment before an echo returned to her—not from the stone walls, but from above.

She frowned slightly and repeated the line, clearer this time, “I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees.”Again, the echo came, a perfect mimicry of her intonation.Jenna’s heart skipped as realization dawned: the carillon bells were echoing the song.It couldn’t be—her rational mind rebelled against the possibility.Yet she couldn’t deny what her ears told her.The metallic resonance of bells reverberated through the church, mimicking her own voice.

Jenna swallowed hard, her pulse quickening.This was no ghost story; there had to be a logical explanation.She summoned Caroline Weber’s rich alto to her mind and began the next line of the haunting melody, “Asked the Lord above ‘Have mercy, save this poor girl, if you please.’”As if summoned by her entreaty, the carillon answered once more, its notes spilling into the night with eerie precision.

The memory of Zach Freelander’s insistence that the carillon had played phrases from Caroline’s favorite blues song on the night of her disappearance sent a shiver down Jenna’s spine.The coincidence was uncanny, almost too much so.Jenna knew the power of dreams and the dead, they had guided her before, but this was reality, tangible and present.The connection between the song and the carillon couldn’t be mere happenstance.

She reached for her phone to call Jake, but she couldn’t bring herself to interrupt whatever was happening.As sheriff, it was her duty to unravel the mysteries that plagued Trentville, and this supernatural occurrence—or clever trick—would not deter her.She needed to find the source of this enigma, to confront whatever or whoever was manipulating the sounds of the carillon.With her weapon in hand, Jenna steeled herself for the ascent into the bell tower, where the answers—and perhaps the murderer—awaited.

Jenna’s hand trembled slightly as she reached for the narrow, creaking stairway that wound its way up into the bell tower.The fleeting thought that it was Kip Selves’s specter haunting the carillon sent an involuntary shudder through her.Ghosts weren’t something she usually gave credence to, at least not in her waking life.But alone in the church at night, with the ghostly echo of a song connecting the present to a sinister past, even Jenna’s rational mind faltered.

“Focus,” Jenna whispered to herself, shaking off the irrational fear.“You’re the sheriff, not some scared kid.”She gripped her service weapon, reassured by its cool metal against her skin.With one last look at the sanctuary below, Jenna started her ascent, the wooden stairs protesting under her determined steps.

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