Page 33 of In Her Bed
The conversation flowed smoothly between Jenna and Frank, years of shared experience creating a shorthand that Jake sometimes found himself envying.They bounced theories back and forth, dissecting the case from every angle, challenging each other’s assumptions in a way that was both respectful and rigorous.
Jake contributed where he could, offering observations from their time in Pinecrest, but he found himself just quietly watching Jenna.In the warm light of Frank’s kitchen, with her guard lowered, she seemed different – not softer, exactly, but more accessible.
The determined sheriff was still there, but so was the woman who carried the weight of her sister’s absence, who sought connection and understanding in a world that had taken so much from her.
“The positioning of the body troubles me,” Frank said, pulling Jake’s attention back to the conversation.“Binding someone to a radio tower takes time, effort.It’s exposing yourself to potential discovery.Why take that risk?”
“Unless the display itself is the point,” Jenna suggested.“A statement of some kind.”
Frank nodded slowly.“Which raises the question – what statement could the killer be trying to make?And to whom?You think this could be the first of multiple killings?”It wasn’t really a question, and Frank didn’t treat it as one.“Ritual displays like this are rarely one-and-done.There’s purpose behind them, a narrative the killer is trying to tell, a message to get out.”
He looked directly at Jenna.“You need to be prepared for the possibility that Derrick is just the opening chapter.”
Jake watched as Jenna absorbed this, saw the subtle tightening around her eyes that betrayed her concern.
“Harris Lynch is the type that might get rough in a fit of passion,” she said finally.“But he doesn’t fit the profile of someone planning a series of murders.”
“No,” Frank agreed.“He doesn’t sound like it.”
They fell into silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.
“If we’re dealing with a potential serial killer,” Jake said, breaking the silence, “what’s our next move?”
“Re-examine everything,” Frank advised.“Look deeper into Derrick’s background, his connections.Serial killers choose their victims for a reason, even if that reason only makes sense to them.It could even be impersonal in an important sense—someone who just happens to fulfill a purpose.”
Jenna nodded, reaching for her mug.“We’ll need to go back through his ham radio logs, see who he was communicating with.Maybe there’s something there we missed.”
As the conversation continued, Jake became increasingly aware of Frank’s gaze occasionally shifting to him.There was something knowing in the older man’s eyes, a hint of recognition that made Jake uncomfortable.Was he that transparent?Could Frank see right through him to the feelings he harbored for Jenna – feelings he’d tried to keep professional, appropriate?
The realization brought a flush of warmth to Jake’s face.He reached for his mug, using the action to break eye contact with Frank, who had the decency to suppress what might have been a smile.
As their meeting wound down, Jake saw the change in Jenna’s demeanor.The tension that had been evident after their confrontation with Mayor Simmons had eased.Frank’s steady presence, his practical wisdom, had centered her in a way that Jake recognized but couldn’t quite replicate himself.
“It’s getting late,” Jenna finally said, glancing at her watch.“We should head out.”
She got up and helped Frank clear the table.Jake offered to wash dishes, but Frank waved them away.
“Go home,” he ordered.“Rest.”He walked them to the door, his tall frame still straight despite his years.“Keep me posted,” he said.“And Jenna—” he hesitated, then continued, “—sometimes what we’re looking for isn’t where we expect to find it.”
Jake wasn’t sure if Frank was referring to the case or to something more personal, but he saw Jenna nod in apparent understanding.
The drive back to Jenna’s house was quiet, both of them processing the evening’s discussion.The streets of Trentville were nearly deserted, most of the town already settled in for the night.Streetlights cast pools of yellow light at regular intervals, creating a rhythm as they drove.
“Do you feel another dream coming on?”Jake asked finally, breaking the silence.He’d initially been disturbed when Jenna first told him about her unusual gift – her ability to communicate with the dead through lucid dreams.But over time, he’d come to understand the burden it placed on her, the responsibility she felt toward those who sought her out.
Jenna didn’t answer immediately.When she did, her voice was thoughtful.“I’m not sure.They don’t exactly work on a schedule.”
“But if you could,” Jake pressed gently, “would you want to speak with Derrick again?”
She turned to look at him, her eyes shaded in the dim light of the car.“Part of me hopes I can.Maybe I could get him to trust me enough to tell me more about who did this to him.”She paused.“But another part dreads the possibility that the next dead person to visit me might be another victim we haven’t found yet.”
“We’ll find whoever did this,” Jake said, the promise in his voice firm and sincere.“Before they can hurt anyone else.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sandra Reeves moved through the darkened hallway of Melody Forge Studios, enjoying the stillness of the late hour.This was her favorite time—when the day’s sessions had ended, when the musicians and technicians had departed, and the building belonged to her alone.She paused at the threshold of Studio A, breathing in the lingering scent of coffee and the subtle electrical warmth of equipment that had been running all day.
The recording room was dim, moonlight spilling through the high windows and catching on the brass hardware of instruments left in stands.A guitar gleamed in the corner, patient and waiting for tomorrow’s session.Sandra flipped a single switch, bathing the space in soft amber light from the recessed fixtures.