Page 61 of In Her Wake
“Agreed,” Jenna said, her mind racing ahead to the confrontation that awaited them.“If Greenwich is following his philosophy, he’ll be targeting successful people at their peak moments.That could be anyone who’s recently achieved something significant.”
“I’ll coordinate with the local authorities en route,” Spelling said, already moving toward the door.“Officer Ford, remain here and secure the scene until forensics and the medical examiner arrive.No one enters except authorized personnel.”
“Yes, sir,” Ford replied, his hand moving instinctively to his sidearm.
Outside, the morning had fully bloomed, sunlight streaming through the trees and burning away the last of the morning mist.The forest that had seemed so ominous in darkness now appeared almost mundane, oblivious to the horrors it concealed.
“I’ll take my vehicle,” Spelling said as they reached the path leading back to the road.“You two follow in yours.We’ll coordinate by radio.”
Jenna nodded, her focus narrowing to the task ahead.The revelation of her abilities to Spelling now seemed almost secondary to the urgency of stopping Greenwich before he claimed another victim.
As they reached their vehicles, Spelling paused, his hand on his car door.“Sheriff Graves,” he said, his voice lowered so only she could hear, “when this is over, I’d like to continue our conversation.Your ability could be invaluable to law enforcement beyond just this case.”
“One crisis at a time, Colonel,” she replied.
He nodded, a hint of a smile touching his lips before his expression returned to its usual professional mask.“To Trentville, then.Let’s end this.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
When Jenna guided her cruiser to a stop in front of the unassuming house at number 715 Cedar Lane, Colonel Spelling's black SUV already idled at the curb.The street was quiet, and the small house with weathered gray siding and slightly overgrown lawn offering no hint of what might be inside.A ceramic gnome tilted drunkenly near a cluster of withered marigolds.The porch light fixture hung crooked, its glass globe missing.Jenna observed that the curtains were drawn across every window, blocking any view of the interior.
Spelling approached their vehicle as they stepped out.“I’ve been here five minutes.No movement inside that I can detect.”
“Could he be off at work somewhere?”Jake asked, adjusting his holster beneath his jacket.
“According to what I pulled up, he’s unemployed,” Spelling replied.“No job since Ozark State University fired him.Lives on savings and occasional commissions for his artwork.”
As the three of them moved toward the house, Jenna scanned for signs of occupancy—recent mail, tire tracks in the gravel driveway, condensation on windows.Nothing suggested someone had come or gone recently.
“Approaching the front door might trigger him if he’s inside,” she cautioned.
“Agreed, but we need to confirm if he’s home,” Spelling said.“Standard procedure.Announce ourselves, request entry.”
They stepped up onto the porch and positioned themselves on either side of the front door—Spelling and Jake to the left, Jenna to the right.Spelling nodded at Jake, who rapped his knuckles firmly against the door.
“Daniel Greenwich?This is the police.We need to speak with you.”Jake’s voice carried authority without aggression.
Silence answered them.
Jake knocked again, louder this time.“Mr.Greenwich?The Missouri State Highway Patrol is also here.Please open the door.”
The house remained still, the drawn curtains revealing nothing.The air felt charged, as if the house itself were holding its breath.
“I’ll check the windows,” Jake said after another moment of silence.He crossed the porch toward the nearest window.“There’s a gap in the curtains here,” he reported.Cupping his hands around his eyes, he pressed close to the glass.
“We should secure a warrant,” Spelling said, his voice low.“If he’s not home, we need to do this by the book.”
“A warrant will take time we might not have,” Jenna replied.“If Greenwich is preparing for another victim—”
“I can see something,” Jake interrupted, his posture stiffening.“A mannequin.”
“That’s exigent circumstances,” Jenna said to Spelling.
“Agreed,” Spelling replied without hesitation.“Step back from the door, both of you.”
Jake rejoined them, and Spelling positioned himself directly in front of the door.He delivered a powerful kick just beside the lock.The wood splintered but held.A second kick broke through, the door swinging inward with a groan of protesting hinges.
The smell hit them first—chemical and sharp—antiseptic mingled with the acrid tang of solvents and adhesives.They entered with weapons drawn, moving through the small foyer into a living room that showed minimal signs of actual living.A futon couch with a rumpled blanket, a coffee table stacked with philosophy texts, a single mug crusted with the remains of old coffee.
