CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Jenna’s gaze was fixed on Mayor Claire Simmons as she and Jake stood in the mayor’s office, delivering their report. “Emily Carson is in custody,” Jenna began, her voice steady despite the weariness that clung to her. “She’s confessed to the murders of Mark Reeves and Melissa Brennan.”

Mayor Simmons leafed through the written report on her desk, her manicured nails tapping a staccato rhythm on the thick paper. The room was silent save for the sound of rustling pages and the distant murmur of City Hall outside the door. Jenna folded her arms, watching the mayor’s eyes track back and forth across the text.

“Emily chose her victims with a predatory precision,” Jake said, standing beside Jenna. The mayor seemed to be listening as he recounted the details methodically. “Mark Reeves was an outsider, passing through town. He met Emily at the library, they talked a bit, and later that night, she managed to abduct him outside his motel room when he stepped outside for a cigarette.”

Jenna picked up the thread seamlessly. “Of course, Melissa and Sarah were local—taken shortly after they’d returned overdue books. That’s all we know at this point.” Her pause was heavy with implication. Though they had rescued Sarah Thompson, the thought that there could be more victims out there, buried and forgotten, weighed heavily on Jenna’s mind.

“Quite the tale,” Simmons finally said, her voice cool and measured. “I’ll have the press release drafted immediately.” She looked up, offering a tight smile. Her words were devoid of warmth, official and detached. “Congratulations to both of you on resolving this case.” Then the mayor leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable behind her fortress of paperwork.

“Thank you, Mayor,” Jenna replied, her tone equally reserved. She waited for an apology, an acknowledgment for the criticism she had endured just yesterday, but none came. Instead, the mayor simply nodded, a perfunctory gesture that closed the discussion.

Jenna turned, catching Jake’s eye as they left the office. They shared a look, an unspoken understanding that passed between them—a mutual recognition of their accomplishments without the need for any other approval.

The two investigators left City Hall, the atmosphere between them shifting from professional to personal as the door closed behind them. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the parking lot. Jenna and Jake walked in synchrony, their footsteps echoing on the pavement.

Jenna couldn’t help feeling pride for their teamwork, for the way they balanced each other out—Jake with his earthbound steadiness and city experience, herself with intuition that often reached beyond what they could actually see.

“We make a good team,” Jake said, breaking the silence with a warmth that defied the chill of the granite building behind them. His comment proved he was feeling the same, but although his smile was easy, Jenna could see concern in his eyes. He was always looking out for her, she knew, but now he also had a lot of new knowledge about her to consider.

“Best in Genesius County,” she agreed, a genuine smile gracing her face. For a moment, she allowed herself the comfort of that camaraderie. But then a shadow crossed her thoughts, darkening her features. She remembered those two graves they’d found in the dirt at the edge of the library’s concrete floor, where Mark Reeves and Melissa Brennan had been buried—and also that gaping, freshly dug hole that had been prepared for Sarah Thompson’s body.

“It’s just…” she began.

Jake paused, turning to face her. “What is it?”

“Emily confessed to two murders,” Jenna began, her voice low. “But something doesn’t sit right. Piper… my sister could have been one of her earlier victims. I know—there were only two bodies buried in that basement. But how can we be sure …?” Her gaze drifted to the horizon, where the town’s quaint outlines blurred with the encroaching dusk.

“Without a body, there’s no way to know,” Jake said, his protective instinct surfacing in his furrowed brow.

“Exactly. And if Emily had other victims, where are they?” Jenna’s emerald eyes, usually so bright with determination, now reflected a haunted uncertainty. She feared what remained unearthed, the possibility that her sister’s fate was intertwined with the librarian’s deadly secrets.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Jake said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’ll investigate further, follow any lead we can come up with.”

“Right,” Jenna murmured, nodding more to herself than to him. She knew the search for Piper was far from over. That was a path she walked alone, guided by an intuition that whispered of connections yet unseen. She would continue, relentless in her pursuit of the truth, no matter how elusive it might be.

They walked side by side to the parking lot, the silence comfortable but full of unspoken thoughts.

Jenna stood by her cruiser, the cold metal of the door handle grounding her to the moment. She watched Jake stride toward his own vehicle, each step carrying the weight of the day’s revelations. His silhouette blended with the lengthening shadows as the sun dipped lower, casting an orange glow over Genesius County. She wanted to call out, to say something more, but words clung stubbornly to the back of her throat.

An exchange of glances spoke what remained unvoiced between them; a mutual recognition of the day’s strain and the bond it had forged. Jenna felt the pull of something deeper, a connection that went beyond partnership, but she held it at bay. There was too much left unresolved, not just in the case, but within herself. Jake gave a final nod before disappearing into his car, leaving Jenna in the quiet company of her thoughts.

Her hand lingered on the door, the cool air whispering through the trees. The town seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for her to shatter the silence with a revelation of her own. But instead, she slid into the driver’s seat, the soft creak of leather accompanying her movements. She closed the door, sealing herself inside, a barrier erected against the chaos of emotions threatening to spill forth.

The ignition hummed to life, but before Jenna could shift into gear, her phone vibrated against the console. Officer Dilkins’s name flashed on the screen. She knew him to be on the staff at the Genesius County Jail. She answered, her voice steady despite the uncertainty that gripped her. “Graves here.”

“Jenna, it’s Dilkins,” came the reply, laced with urgency. “Emily Carson… she’s asking to see you. Face-to-face.”

The request knotted Jenna’s stomach. After today, the mere thought of sitting across from the woman who haunted Trentville’s tranquility was almost too much to bear. Her first instinct was to refuse, to end the call and drive home without giving the request another thought. But then the image of Piper surfaced in her mind, a face frozen in time, a sister still lost. This might be Jenna’s only chance to ask about Piper, maybe to finally learn something that had eluded her for far too long.

“Alright,” she said, the decision carving itself into existence. “I’ll come.” It wasn’t just about getting answers or closing a case anymore. It was about facing the past, confronting the specter that might hold the key to her sister’s fate. With a resigned exhale, Jenna put the car into drive.

She would go to the jail. She would face Emily Carson.

***

Jenna trailed behind the guard, his keys jangling with each step down the sterile corridor of the Genesius County Jail. A lingering scent of bleach hung in the air, blending with a murkiness that seemed to seep from the cold concrete walls. She halted outside a cell, her gaze fixed on the woman within. Emily Carson sat calmly on the edge of a bunk, the barred door between them doing little to diminish the familiar warmth of her smile.

The guard gave Jenna a nod before departing, leaving her seated on the cold bench outside the bars that confined the town’s once-trusted librarian.

“Jenna, how good of you to come,” Emily greeted, rising to stand close to the bars. Her voice was as serene as Jenna recalled from those childhood afternoons spent among library stacks. It felt surreal—this poised figure before her, who had once guided her through literary worlds, now confined with such good reason within these bleak walls.

“I wish you hadn’t gotten tangled in this mess,” Emily said softly, her eyes reflecting a sorrow that seemed almost genuine. “I never wanted you to see this side of me.”

“Excuse me?” Jenna’s voice sharpened like the cut of a blade. “You orchestrated a nightmare, Emily. People are dead because of you.” Her words were unadorned, carrying the weight of stark truth.

Emily sighed, a sound that held no trace of denial. “I know what I’ve done,” she admitted. And there it was—an acknowledgment, plain and devoid of any theatrics.

They fell silent, the air between them filled with the unsaid. Jenna’s gaze wandered to the barred window, where the light was beginning to fade into the early evening haze. She could hear the distant murmur of correctional officers and the occasional shuffle of inmates elsewhere in the facility, but the world seemed muted, narrowed down to this moment of disbelief and simmering anger.

“Jenna, I owe you an apology.” Emily spoke abruptly, breaking the silence with the same disarming civility she had always shown amidst the stacks of well-thumbed books. “Yesterday, it completely slipped my mind… It was the anniversary of Piper’s disappearance.” Her voice held a note of contrition, or perhaps it was an attempt at empathy.

“I should have asked how you were holding up,” Emily added softly. “I hope it wasn’t too difficult a day for you.”

Jenna’s response lodged in her throat, unspoken. She stared at Emily, the woman who had been a fixture of her childhood, now held in the harsh light of the truth. How could such normalcy be feigned so easily? In Jenna’s mind, the memories of shared book recommendations and whispered library conversations warred with the present reality. The irony of Emily’s concern, genuine or not, left Jenna momentarily lost for words.

“I called you here because I know what you’re thinking,” Emily continued, her voice even and direct. “You wonder if I had anything to do with Piper’s disappearance.”

Emily’s eyes held Jenna’s, unflinching. “But I swear to you, Jenna, it wasn’t me. I’ve done horrible things, yes, but harming your sister was never one of them. And in some corner of my heart, I still hope she returns to you.”

The assertion crashed through Jenna’s defenses, leaving her momentarily bereft of words. Logic warred with intuition, her analytical mind dissecting Emily’s statement for any hint of deception. Yet something primal, that strange supernatural sense she harbored, screamed the truth of Emily’s words. The world tilted slightly, reality skewing as Jenna grappled with this new certainty.

Another silence settled between them, the air thick with the weight of confessions and the specter of hope. Then Emily’s voice cut through again, soft but laden with genuine regret. “It’s a tragedy, the rift between you and your mother because of Piper.” She paused, looking down for a moment before meeting Jenna’s eyes again. “It truly saddens me.”

The mention of her mother was a catalyst, jolting Jenna from her reverie. Abruptly, she rose to her feet.

“Goodbye, Emily,” Jenna managed to say, her voice strained, before turning on her heel and hastening out of the jail. Once outside, she fumbled with her car keys, then slid into the driver’s seat, the interior of the car a small sanctuary. She closed her eyes, allowing the quiet hum of the engine to ground her back to reality.

After a few moments, Jenna’s breathing calmed, and she opened her eyes. The weight of the conversation with Emily had left her feeling unmoored, but in its wake, a firm resolve took root. It was a decision that had been deferred for far too long, buried under layers of pain and duty, but now it beckoned her clearly. Her hand reached for her phone with a newfound purpose, dialing a number she knew by heart yet rarely called. It felt alien to initiate contact after all this time, yet necessary—like resetting a bone that had healed wrong. She pressed the call button, the dial tone stretching out like a horizon before her.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end was slurred, tinged with the unmistakable edge of inebriation.

“Mom, it’s Jenna,” she said, her voice low and even. There was a pause, a fumbling sound, as though the phone had almost slipped from her mother’s grasp.

“Jenna? What’s… what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jenna replied, her words deliberate. “I’ve been thinking…we should meet up. Sometime soon.”

There was a pause filled with static and a distant hum that might’ve been laughter or sobs—it was hard to tell. Her mother’s response was a delayed murmur, a half-hearted attempt at sobriety. “Sure, honey. We can do that.”

“Good,” Jenna said, a subtle tremor betraying her apparent composure. “I’ll call you tomorrow to set a time.” She didn’t wait for an answer, ending the call before the silence could stretch into discomfort.

The phone fell from her hand onto the passenger seat, the finality of the moment enveloping her. She sat there, allowing herself to absorb the stillness, the quiet resolution that promised no easy path forward, but a path nonetheless. She had made the call. It was a beginning. And like so many beginnings, she had no idea of what the end might be.

Jenna thought of the other beginnings that still remained open questions.

Was there anything to look forward to with Jake, or should she just give up on that?

When would she find any clues to the one thing she’d never, never give up on—the search for her sister?

And whose troubles would next draw on the skills she’d developed, both in the everyday world and in her lucid dreams?