Page 27
Story: In Her Prayers
“Go ahead.”
“Zach Freelander confirmed that she had a tattoo of a butterfly on her left shoulder,” Jake relayed succinctly.
A pause on the other end of the line indicated that Melissa was making notes.“That sounds like a match,” she said.
“We’ve lock of Caroline’s hair for DNA testing,” Jake added.“We’ll have it delivered to you.”
“Good work, Jake,” Melissa responded appreciatively.“I’ll get my team ready to process it as soon as it gets here.”
Soon after Jake ended the call, they passed the faded signs for Trentville, the town’s boundaries marking the return to their usual reality.
“Where to next?”Jake asked Jenna.
“We’d better stop by the church and check in on Colonel Spelling and his team,” she said.
“Good idea,” he replied.“Maybe they’ve found something there by now.”
“Frank, how about you?”Jenna asked.“I can drive you home first.”
“No, Jenna, I don’t want to go home,” Frank replied from the back seat.“Now that I know about Caroline...well, it’s all I’ll be able to think about.Just take me on into town with you.There must be some way I can help.”
Jenna understood Frank’s response.Trentville, with its veneer of small-town charm, held secrets that were gradually coming to light—and those cases dated back to Frank’s early days as a lawman here.She appreciated his need to help finish those stories.
She too had a multitude of reasons to pursue the case harder than ever.It wasn’t just that she was the Sheriff now; her determination was also rooted in what she had seen in that dream.The blight that had hung over this town would not win; she would see to that.Caroline’s tragic fate, now confirmed by their meeting with Zach Freelander, was a wound upon the whole community’s conscience.
And of course Caroline wasn’t the only victim.The other body in the morgue remained unidentified, but Jenna was sure she had met that victim in her dream, when she’d been wearing a choir robe.There was also the question of what had become of the autoharp player who had charmed everybody so long ago.There was a reason those three spirits still haunted St.Michael’s Church in her dream, and Jenna still had to track that question to its end.
She brought the squad car to a gentle stop outside St.Michael’s and stepped out, surveying the scene.Jake followed suit, and they waited while Frank unfolded himself from the back seat with a grunt, the years slowing his movements.
The church loomed solemnly against the bright afternoon sky, its stone facade offering no hints of what might still be hidden within.They all ducked under the yellow police tape strung between them and old building.
As they entered the front doors of the church, Jenna paused mid-stride, listening to the faint strains of piano music that seeped out from the adjoining Parish Hall.The melody that wound its way through the air was one that she had heard before, but never in waking reality.
She recognized the hymn, the one that had haunted her sleep—and somebody was playing that melody right here…right now.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Stopping in her tracks in the entryway to St.Michael’s, Jenna stood listening to the somber and familiar melody.
“Is that...?”Jake began, and Jenna nodded.Frank grunted softly, his face furrowing in concern.
“Yeah,” she murmured.“It’s the melody of the hymn that I sang for you.I’ve never heard it except in my dream.”
Together, they turned toward the adjoining Parish Hall to find out who was playing the piano.As they approached the doorway, a woman’s voice joined the piano, adding familiar words to the tune:
“In shadows deep, the secrets keep,
Through courage, truth we strive to reap …”
Jake said softly, “And those are the words that you sang, too.”
They stepped through the open door of the Parish Hall, where Jenna recognized the piano player as David Cavanaugh, the church organist.He and the singer, Sister Agnes Kendrick, were both long-time residents, well-known in town.
A muscular man in his 80s, David hunched over the piano, his agile fingers moving across the keys with an unsettling intensity that belied his age.Beside him stood Sister Agnes, a frail figure of about 80, her quavering soprano voice lending an ethereal quality to the hymn as it filled the room.
David played with a fervor, obviously familiar with the piece.Beside him, the Sister in her vestments added a calm dignity to their performance as she sang:
“In dreams they stir, in whispers speak,
“Zach Freelander confirmed that she had a tattoo of a butterfly on her left shoulder,” Jake relayed succinctly.
A pause on the other end of the line indicated that Melissa was making notes.“That sounds like a match,” she said.
“We’ve lock of Caroline’s hair for DNA testing,” Jake added.“We’ll have it delivered to you.”
“Good work, Jake,” Melissa responded appreciatively.“I’ll get my team ready to process it as soon as it gets here.”
Soon after Jake ended the call, they passed the faded signs for Trentville, the town’s boundaries marking the return to their usual reality.
“Where to next?”Jake asked Jenna.
“We’d better stop by the church and check in on Colonel Spelling and his team,” she said.
“Good idea,” he replied.“Maybe they’ve found something there by now.”
“Frank, how about you?”Jenna asked.“I can drive you home first.”
“No, Jenna, I don’t want to go home,” Frank replied from the back seat.“Now that I know about Caroline...well, it’s all I’ll be able to think about.Just take me on into town with you.There must be some way I can help.”
Jenna understood Frank’s response.Trentville, with its veneer of small-town charm, held secrets that were gradually coming to light—and those cases dated back to Frank’s early days as a lawman here.She appreciated his need to help finish those stories.
She too had a multitude of reasons to pursue the case harder than ever.It wasn’t just that she was the Sheriff now; her determination was also rooted in what she had seen in that dream.The blight that had hung over this town would not win; she would see to that.Caroline’s tragic fate, now confirmed by their meeting with Zach Freelander, was a wound upon the whole community’s conscience.
And of course Caroline wasn’t the only victim.The other body in the morgue remained unidentified, but Jenna was sure she had met that victim in her dream, when she’d been wearing a choir robe.There was also the question of what had become of the autoharp player who had charmed everybody so long ago.There was a reason those three spirits still haunted St.Michael’s Church in her dream, and Jenna still had to track that question to its end.
She brought the squad car to a gentle stop outside St.Michael’s and stepped out, surveying the scene.Jake followed suit, and they waited while Frank unfolded himself from the back seat with a grunt, the years slowing his movements.
The church loomed solemnly against the bright afternoon sky, its stone facade offering no hints of what might still be hidden within.They all ducked under the yellow police tape strung between them and old building.
As they entered the front doors of the church, Jenna paused mid-stride, listening to the faint strains of piano music that seeped out from the adjoining Parish Hall.The melody that wound its way through the air was one that she had heard before, but never in waking reality.
She recognized the hymn, the one that had haunted her sleep—and somebody was playing that melody right here…right now.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Stopping in her tracks in the entryway to St.Michael’s, Jenna stood listening to the somber and familiar melody.
“Is that...?”Jake began, and Jenna nodded.Frank grunted softly, his face furrowing in concern.
“Yeah,” she murmured.“It’s the melody of the hymn that I sang for you.I’ve never heard it except in my dream.”
Together, they turned toward the adjoining Parish Hall to find out who was playing the piano.As they approached the doorway, a woman’s voice joined the piano, adding familiar words to the tune:
“In shadows deep, the secrets keep,
Through courage, truth we strive to reap …”
Jake said softly, “And those are the words that you sang, too.”
They stepped through the open door of the Parish Hall, where Jenna recognized the piano player as David Cavanaugh, the church organist.He and the singer, Sister Agnes Kendrick, were both long-time residents, well-known in town.
A muscular man in his 80s, David hunched over the piano, his agile fingers moving across the keys with an unsettling intensity that belied his age.Beside him stood Sister Agnes, a frail figure of about 80, her quavering soprano voice lending an ethereal quality to the hymn as it filled the room.
David played with a fervor, obviously familiar with the piece.Beside him, the Sister in her vestments added a calm dignity to their performance as she sang:
“In dreams they stir, in whispers speak,
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