Page 64 of In Her Dreams
Jenna rose to meet her, unsure whether to offer a hug or maintain the professional distance she’d been clinging to throughout their conversation.“I knew your dad my whole life, Rusty.I couldn’t let it go.”
“You never do.”A ghost of a smile flickered across Rusty’s face.“That’s why you’re good at this job.”
A silence fell between them.
“I should get back to...”Rusty gestured vaguely at the stacks of papers and boxes that littered the dining room.“All of this.”
Jenna nodded.“Call me if you need anything.Anything at all.”
“I will.”Rusty walked her to the door, pausing with her hand on the knob.“Jenna...was he afraid when it happened?Did he suffer?”
The question wasn’t one Jenna wanted to answer.She thought of Dr.Stark’s clinical description of cardiac arrest induced by extreme terror, but looked at her friend’s face and chose her words carefully.
“It was quick,” she said, the partial truth easier to bear than the complete one.
Rusty nodded, her jaw tight with unshed tears, and opened the door.
The afternoon sunlight felt jarring after the dim interior of the Winters home.Jenna walked to her cruiser, aware of Rusty watching from the doorway.She didn’t look back as she started the engine and pulled away from the curb.
As she drove through the familiar streets of Trentville, Jenna’s mind drifted to her earlier two visits today.The first had been with Cassie, to share with her the shocking news that Dr.Summers, the very person Cassie had suggested that Jenna consult about dreamcatchers, had herself been a murderer.But Cassie was more open to weird phenomena than most people
The second visit had been with Alice Bowen.The young teacher had been even less prepared than Rusty to hear the truth about her roommate’s death.Alice had sat on the edge of her couch, trembling slightly as Jenna explained a little about the Chantico Rite, about how Anita’s ornithophobia had become weaponized against her.
“But she was getting better,” Alice had insisted.“She even sat on a park bench last week while kids were feeding pigeons.She wouldn’t have done that before.”
Jenna had given her the same explanation she’d just told Rusty.As Dr.Walsh had clarified during his testimony, the victims apparent improvement had just been a moment of calm before the storm that took their lives.
Once the hypnotic suggestion preventing Walsh from discussing the Chantico Rite had broken with Summers’ death, he’d been able to explain exactly how she’d manipulated her victims.How she’d presented herself as a healer, offering a solution to their debilitating phobias.How she’d combined ancient rituals with modern hypnotherapy to plant posthypnotic suggestions, all while documenting their reactions for what she called “research into the nature of fear.”
Jenna stopped at a red light and rubbed her temples, trying to ease the tension headache that had been her companion for days.The case was over, although the pain it had brought about continued.
She was grateful that Spelling had continued to be supportive.He’d arrived in Trentville hours after Summers’ death, bringing a team of state investigators who documented everything with clinical efficiency.There had been no question that Summers’ death had been a grotesque accident.And when it came time to question Jenna about how she’d connected the dreamcatchers to the deaths, about why she’d suspected Summers in the first place—he’d been almost delicate.
“I’ve worked with you long enough to respect your methods, Sheriff Graves,” he’d said, his piercing blue eyes studying her face.“Even when I don’t fully understand them.”
Her debriefing with Claire Simmons had been more difficult.The mayor was finding it harder and harder to deal with not only the strangeness of Jenna’s intuitions, but with the town’s descent into deepening darkness.And the truth was, Trentville was proving to be more and more of a mystery to Jenna herself.
The light turned green, and Jenna accelerated.A few minutes later she pulled into her parking spot at the Genesius County Sheriff’s Office, planning to lose herself in the mundane paperwork that made up the bulk of local law enforcement.But at that moment her phone rang and Frank’s name flashed on the screen.
“How’d it go with Mary Rodriguez?”she asked without preamble.
Frank’s sigh came through clearly.“About as well as can be expected.She asked a lot of questions I couldn’t answer.How do you explain to someone that their husband died because he was afraid of open spaces?”
“I know.I just left Rusty’s.She’s still in shock.”Jenna leaned back against the headrest, suddenly exhausted.
“And the teacher’s roommate?Alice?”
“Same story.Disbelief, then anger, then more questions than I have answers for.”Jenna watched a pair of deputies exit the station, laughing about something.The normalcy of the sight felt surreal after the past few days.
“You did everything you could, Jenna.Sometimes that has to be enough.”
“I know.”She closed her eyes briefly.“I just wish we’d figured it out sooner.Before Sam ...”
“Don’t go down that road.”Frank’s tone hardened.“We deal with what is, not what might have been.”
The familiar advice—advice he’d given her countless times over the years when cases went sideways or when leads about Piper dried up—brought a small smile to her lips.
“How’s Mary holding up?”she asked, changing the subject.
