Page 37 of In Her Sights

The eggs were perfectly cooked, and Jake had to admit that despite the oddness of the morning’s conversation, the food was a welcome comfort. He tried to concentrate on the flavors, the homeliness of the scene, but his mind was inevitably drawn back to Jenna’s confession about the dead reaching out through the veil of sleep. Even now, as she ate with an almost mechanical efficiency, her eyes held a faraway look that spoke of trials Jake was only just beginning to comprehend. She was an enigma, this sheriff—a woman whose depths he was only beginning to glimpse.

Frank’s voice brought him back again, the former sheriff recounting some small-town anecdote with a chuckle that failed to pierce the morning’s tension. Jake managed a smile, noddingalong, but his thoughts remained on Jenna and the strangeness that seemed woven into the very fabric of Trentville.

When the remnants of breakfast lay scattered across the table, Frank leaned back in his chair, a gesture that seemed to beckon the room into silence. Jake felt an odd stillness settle over the kitchen; even the tick of the clock on the wall seemed to hold its breath. He observed Jenna’s posture straighten, the look in her eyes signaling a shift in conversation.

“Jenna,” Frank said quietly, “why don’t you tell us about your dream?” His expectant look held an understanding that came from years of witnessing Jenna’s gift.

Jenna took a deep breath, her hands steadying as she looked up from her plate. Jake watched her intently, the air thick with anticipation for what she was about to reveal. There was something special in the way she silently prepared to recount her nocturnal visitation, gathering fragments of story from a narrative only she could see.

As she cleared her throat, ready to unveil the secrets of her slumbering mind, Jake knew that whatever she was about to say could change everything. Their cases had sometimes been bizarre before, but the inclusion of Jenna’s dreams both fascinated and terrified him. He readied himself to listen, to support, to learn how to delve into the unknown alongside her.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Jake?” Jenna prodded gently, watching him closely, searching for a sign of acceptance or disbelief. She saw no derision there, just a cautious curiosity that she thought might be asking,Are you both out of your minds?

“I’m listening,” he assured her, the corners of his mouth betraying a hint of strain.

Jenna leaned forward, resting her elbows on the kitchen table as she shared the details of her dream with Frank and Jake. Her voice conveyed facts, not fear.

“It started in this narrow hallway,” she began, fixing her gaze on a knot in the wooden table as if it were a portal to her memory. “There was a woman—agitated, hurried. Three suitcases lay at her feet, each one looking like it had seen better days.” Jenna traced the knot’s edges with her index finger. “She said she needed to get out while the going is good.”

Jenna thought for a moment.

“Then it shifted,” she continued. “The light… it just drained from the space until we were in darkness.” Her voice remained matter-of-fact, even as she recounted the chilling details. “The same woman was there, but now she sat on the floor, barely visible. She complained that she was thirsty. She said that several times before I woke up. And I remember she held a little light on a book she was reading.”

Jake asked softly, “Could you see what book it was?”

“No, but she was worried that it was overdue. She had to return it to the library. And she said something about five years.”

“Just like Mark did,” Frank muttered.

“At one point a man’s voice was calling her by name, and the woman was terrified,” Jenna said. “He sounded angry. She said she was afraid he was going to kill her.”

Jenna cleared her throat, the tightness there a reminder of the tension she felt. “The woman in my dream, she mentioned that another woman was also in danger. She said—and I remember this vividly—‘She’s a reader too.’ But she wouldn’t tell me her name.”

“Anything else about this other woman?” Frank prodded gently, aware of the delicate thread they were following.

“Only that she seemed truly worried for her,” Jenna replied. “It was more than just concern; it was fear.”

As she spoke, Jenna could feel the lingering remnants of the dream—a sense of urgency, a need to warn, to protect.

“Then,” Jenna continued, drawing in a deep breath as she prepared to relay the final pieces of her nocturnal vision, “there were these glimpses of a wind-powered water pump. They were fleeting, like snapshots flashing before my eyes. I couldn’t tell you where, but it seemed significant to whatever danger this woman is facing.”

“Water pump…” Jake murmured, almost to himself, his posture shifting as though he were piecing together a puzzle only he could see.

“Then I woke up,” Jenna concluded, feeling their gazes upon her. There was no need for embellishment or dramatic pauses; the facts of her experience were stark enough. As Jenna had detailed her dream, she’d watched, seeking any signs of doubt. Jake’s expression remained carefully neutral, giving nothing away, yet his focus never wavered from her narrative. The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the kitchen table, but the atmosphere was charged with an undercurrent of tension.

“Have you both always believed in… this sort of thing?” Jake finally asked.

“Belief didn’t come easy,” Jenna admitted, her voice low. “And anyway, it’s not about believing. It’s about accepting what’sthere, even when it doesn’t make sense.” Her hands rested on the table, fingers laced tightly together, betraying her anxiety about his judgment.

Frank nodded, his gray eyes locking onto Jake’s. “I’ve seen enough in my time to know the world’s got layers most folks don’t see. Jenna’s gift peeled back some of those layers.”

Jake let out a slow breath, his previous skepticism seemingly suspended in favor of the evidence before him: the conviction of two people he respected. He leaned back in his chair, still processing, the furrow in his brow less pronounced. Jenna felt a cautious relief. Jake might not be ready to believe, but he was trying to understand, and for now, that was enough.

“Oh, and Frank,” Jenna remembered, “when I told her I was the sheriff, she said no, that the sheriff was you.”

Frank leaned back in his chair, a frown creasing his brow as he sorted through the implications. “Can you describe the woman from your dream for me?” he asked, shifting his focus back to Jenna.

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