Page 33 of In Her Dreams
“You’re thinking these deaths are connected?”
“I know it sounds far-fetched,” Jenna acknowledged.“There’s no physical evidence of foul play, no toxicology results suggesting poison or drugs.Just two people who literally died of fright.And maybe what’s most important, I had a lucid dream about Anita just before I learned of her death.I saw her being consumed by birds.”
“And we’ve got a psychiatrist who’s acting mighty suspicious,” Jake added.“Dr.Anthony Walsh.He treated both victims for phobias—claustrophobia for Winters, ornithophobia for Palmer.”
Frank’s eyes narrowed.“Walsh...I remember him.Came to town about, what, ten years ago?Well-respected.I hear he’s one of Mayor Simmons’s strongest backers.”
“We just interviewed him,” Jenna said.“He was evasive, nervous.Claimed doctor-patient confidentiality when we pressed about their treatments.And he denied any knowledge of the dreamcatchers.”
“Which is valid,” Jake acknowledged reluctantly.“But it was more than professional discretion.The man was so shaky, he’s got to be covering up something.”
Frank took a thoughtful sip of his tea.“So you’ve got two deaths by extreme fear, a nervous psychiatrist, and no legal grounds for an investigation because officially, there’s no crime.”
Jenna nodded.“That about sums it up.Except for one thing.Both had the very odd objects in their homes, positioned near their beds.Dreamcatchers—not typical commercial ones—these were distinctive.”
She pulled out her phone and showed him the pictures.
Frank’s expression changed subtly.A slight tension around the eyes, a tightening of his jaw.The kind of reaction most people wouldn’t notice, but Jenna had known him too long to miss.
“Frank,” she said quietly.“What aren’t you telling us?”
Frank leaned back in his chair.“My grandmother,” he finally said, his voice taking on a reverent quality, “was what folks around here used to call ‘touched.’A small, wiry woman with eyes that could see right through you.She knew things she had no way of knowing.”
Jenna felt a familiar ripple of recognition.How many times had people looked at her sideways after she’d known something she shouldn’t have?
“I remember,” Jake said.“You once told us your grandmother had abilities similar to Jenna’s.That she could...sense things.”
“She had dreams,” Frank continued.“Not regular dreams, but visions that felt more real than reality.She’d wake up in the middle of the night, eyes wide, talking about conversations she’d had with people long dead.”
“Like Jenna’s lucid dreams,” Jake said softly.
Frank nodded.“Exactly like that.As a kid, I was fascinated and terrified by it.She’d tell me things no child should know—secrets of the dead, warnings about the living.But it was her warnings about Genesius County that really stuck with me.”
He paused, taking another sip of tea.
“She believed there was a darkness here.Not just evil in the ordinary sense, but something...older.Something tied to the land itself.She said it slept most of the time, but occasionally, it would wake up and...feed.”
A chill ran down Jenna’s spine despite the warmth of the kitchen.“Feed on what?”
“Fear,” Frank said simply.“The most primal human emotion.She said fear was like a nutrient for this darkness, and when it awoke, strange things would happen.People would die in unusual ways, often related to their deepest fears.”
Jake exchanged a glance with Jenna.“Like dying of claustrophobia or a bird phobia?”
“Exactly like that,” Frank confirmed.“I dismissed a lot of it as I got older.The ramblings of an old woman with too many ghost stories.And I spent my years as Sheriff tracking down perfectly ordinary criminals.But recently...”
“But recently we’ve had several serial killer cases, a human trafficking ring, and people dying of fright,” Jenna finished for him.The pieces were starting to align in a pattern she wasn’t sure she wanted to see.
“Could be the darkness is feeding again,” Frank said, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper.“At least, that’s what my grandmother would say.”
The kitchen suddenly felt smaller, the shadows in the corners deeper.Even the tea in Jenna’s mug seemed to have cooled too quickly.
“Did your grandmother ever mention dreamcatchers?”Jake asked.
Frank’s expression turned grim.“She made them herself.Said they could trap nightmares, keep the darkness from entering through dreams.But she was very particular about how they were made and used.”He paused.“She said that in the wrong hands, they could do the opposite—draw the darkness in instead of keeping it out.”
Jenna thought of the dreamcatchers in the victims’ homes, positioned over their beds.Watching over them as they slept.Or perhaps, watching them and waiting for the right time.
“So what are we dealing with here, Frank?”she asked.“A supernatural force?Or a killer who knows how to manipulate fear?”
