Page 14 of In Her Dreams (Jenna Graves #7)

Night had settled over Trentville as Jenna navigated the winding roads toward Mayor Simmons’s hillside residence.

Beside her, Jake sat in contemplative silence, his profile illuminated by the occasional passing streetlight.

It was late for an official visit, and Claire had obviously left her office and gone home for the night, but her phone call had made it clear that this couldn’t wait until morning.

As she made the final turn up the driveway, the impressive Victorian-style home came into view, its windows glowing amber against the night. The mayor’s home stood as an architectural testament to old money and influence.

“What do you think she has on her mind this time?” Jake asked.

“Something to do with Richard Winters and Anita Palmer, she said. And rumors about their deaths. I guess word has gotten around that we’re looking into what happened to them. It’s the kind of thing that really rubs her the wrong way about me.”

They walked up the flagstone path to the front door.

Almost immediately after Jenna pressed the doorbell, the heavy oak door swung open, and Claire Simmons herself stood framed in the entrance.

Her tailored charcoal pantsuit was as crisp as if she were heading to a council meeting rather than hosting an impromptu evening discussion.

“Sheriff. Deputy.” Claire’s voice was smooth but taut, like a violin string tuned a half-step too tight. “Thank you for coming so promptly.”

She stepped aside, gesturing them into a foyer that gleamed with polished hardwood and tasteful antiques. A crystal chandelier cast prismatic reflections across the cream-colored walls and the marble floor.

“This way,” Claire directed, leading them past the sweeping staircase and into a sitting room where she met with visitors who weren’t guests. Jenna and Jake had been there before.

“Please, sit,” Claire said, indicating the plush velvet sofas.

Jenna and Jake took their seats on one sofa while Claire perched on the edge of the other, her posture rigid, hands folded in her lap. Her manicured nails were painted a deep burgundy tonight, the color of dried blood against her pale skin.

Looking around, Jenna noted a new photograph framed and displayed on the heavy desk that dominated one corner of the room—Claire and her late brother Clyde at what appeared to be a campaign event, their smiles identical in their well-practiced expressions of sincerity.

The sight stirred a complex mix of emotions—Clyde’s murder case had brought her and Claire into a temporary alliance, but the goodwill earned seemed to have a rapidly approaching expiration date.

“Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Something stronger?” Claire asked, the social nicety feeling like a delaying tactic.

“We’re fine, thanks,” Jenna replied, preferring to get to the point. “Your message sounded urgent.”

“Yes. Well, I had an interesting day today,” Claire began, her raptor-like gaze shifting between them. “I had rather lengthy phone conversations with Colonel Spelling and a certain Special Agent Cody of the FBI regarding the recent... situation at the mine.”

Jenna kept her expression neutral. “I assume they brought you up to speed.”

“They did. Two victims were rescued, suffering from severe dehydration and malnourishment. Consistent with other victims found in other areas, the work of an outfit called the Harvesters.” Claire’s tone was clinical, as if reading from an internal press release.

Then she added in a sharper tone, “They gave a thorough accounting of the investigation. Which I hadn’t gotten before. ”

“The FBI team has concluded their work here,” Jake offered. “They’ve moved on, taking jurisdiction of the case since it crosses state lines.”

Claire’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Good. The sooner Trentville is out of the national spotlight for something so horrific, the better.”

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as they fixed on Jenna.

“Though Agent Cody did mention something curious. While he was impressed by how you managed to locate those victims, he seemed to be puzzled by how you did it, Sheriff. He said you led them directly to the captives. He said you weren’t exactly forthcoming about how you knew they were there. ”

Jenna met Claire’s gaze steadily. “I have sources and tips that sometimes don’t make it into official reports, Claire. Local knowledge has its advantages.”

“Sources,” Claire repeated, the word dripping with skepticism. “How convenient.”

Jake shifted in his chair. “The important thing is that those two women are alive because of Sheriff Graves’ actions.”

Claire’s mouth tightened into a thin line, but she nodded once in reluctant acknowledgment.

“Indeed. However, that’s not the only matter that concerns me tonight.” She smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her slacks. “Rumors reached my office today that you’re treating Richard Winters’ death as a homicide case. And possibly Anita Palmer’s as well.”

Jenna felt a flicker of irritation. There it was, the real reason that the mayor had insisted on seeing them tonight. Claire’s intelligence network was impressively efficient—and intrusive.

“We’re investigating unusual circumstances surrounding those two deaths,” Jenna replied carefully. “Standard procedure.”

Claire’s eyebrow arched. “So unusual that I felt compelled to call Dr. Stark directly. She confirmed both victims had elevated levels of adrenaline, cortisol, and other stress hormones at time of death.” She paused.

“What she couldn’t tell me was how these medical anomalies led to a murder investigation. ”

Jenna took a measured breath. “We’re not officially treating these as homicides, Claire. We’re simply gathering information to understand what happened.”

“Really?” Claire’s voice sharpened. “That’s not how Dr. Anthony Walsh characterized your visit to his office this evening.”

Jenna felt Jake stiffen beside her. This was the first indication they had that Walsh had contacted the mayor.

“Dr. Walsh called you?” Jenna asked, careful to keep her tone neutral.

“He was quite upset,” Claire continued. “He said you and Deputy Hawkins essentially treated him as a murder suspect, solely because both of the deceased happened to be under his professional care.”

Jenna exchanged a look with Jake, a silent communication passing between them. Walsh running to the mayor so quickly only heightened their suspicions of him. His defensiveness seemed to speak volumes.

“We asked Dr. Walsh routine questions,” Jenna stated evenly. “Nothing more.”

“He clearly doesn’t see it that way,” Claire countered. “In fact, he demanded that I, and I quote, ‘put a stop to Sheriff Graves’ prying into matters that are of no concern to her or anybody else.’“

Jake leaned forward. “With all due respect, Mayor, when two people die under unusual circumstances within twenty-four hours of each other, and both happened to be in treatment by the same doctor, asking questions isn’t prying—it’s doing our job.”

Claire’s eyes flashed. “I’m well aware of what constitutes police work, Deputy.”

Then her expression softening into something that looked almost like a plea.

“Jenna, I know you’re an elected official just like me.

I can’t give you orders—you’ve reminded me of that fact numerous times.

” She sighed. “But I need you to understand something. Anthony Walsh, just any doctor in this town. He’s been one of my most important supporters since I first ran for office.

I wouldn’t be sitting in the mayor’s chair without his quiet but consistent backing. ”

Financial support, Jenna realized.

The political calculus was laid bare, naked in its transactional nature.

“I’m sorry about your predicament,” Jenna said, her words genuine despite her frustration. “But I do have to investigate whenever and wherever questions arise.”

“And what exactly do you find out that’s of any value?” Claire pressed. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re just antagonizing a respected professional over two deaths that, while tragic, appear to be from natural causes.”

Jenna weighed her words carefully. The dreamcatchers found with both victims created a connection she couldn’t ignore, but discussing them now would only invite more issues that she wasn’t prepared to discuss with the mayor.

“There’s nothing more I can tell you about these deaths at this time,” Jenna said finally. “If that changes, you’ll be among the first to know.”

Claire studied her for a long moment, then exhaled slowly as she leaned back against the sofa cushions. The rigid posture that had defined her all evening seemed to soften, revealing a glimpse of the weight she carried.

“You know,” Claire said, her voice quieter now, “I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for what you did for Clyde. For finding his killer and bringing them to justice.”

“You have,” Jenna corrected gently. “Multiple times.”

Claire shook her head, her gaze drifting to the photo on the mantel. “It’s never enough. He was all the family I had left.”

A silence settled between them.

Then Claire continued, almost to herself, “I used to think I knew this town. I grew up here, just like you. But lately—” She stopped, collecting herself. “The violence, the disappearances, the strange deaths. Sometimes I feel like I’m serving a community I no longer recognize.”

Despite their professional differences, Jenna felt a pang of sympathy for the mayor. Claire’s vulnerabilities rarely showed through her polished exterior.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Jenna offered.

Claire nodded, then straightened, the moment of candor passing as quickly as it had appeared. “I hope that includes exercising discretion with Dr. Walsh.”

And just like that, they were back to politics. Jenna rose to her feet, Jake following her lead.

“Thank you for your concern, Mayor. We’ll keep you updated as appropriate.”

Claire walked them to the door, her composure fully restored. “I’d appreciate that, Sheriff.”

The night air felt refreshing after the tension inside. Jenna breathed deeply as they walked back to her car.

“Well, that was interesting,” Jake said as they pulled away from the mayor’s residence. “Walsh didn’t waste any time running to the politician he supports.”

“Makes you wonder what he’s so afraid of,” Jenna replied, navigating the dark roads back toward town.

“Innocent people don’t usually call the mayor to complain about routine questioning. Maybe he invested in her because he knew he might need her backing someday.”

They drove in thoughtful silence for several minutes, the headlights cutting through the darkness as they descended from the hill back into Trentville proper.

“What the mayor said about the town changing,” Jenna said finally. “It reminds me of what Frank told us.”

Jake glanced at her. “What specifically?”

“About what his grandmother used to say. That there was a darkness in these parts, tied to the land itself. That it woke up to ‘feed’ from time to time—to feed on fear itself.” Jenna shook her head. “Sounds like superstition, but...”

“But nothing we’ve seen in the last few months contradicts it,” Jake finished for her.

He stared out the passenger window. “I thought I’d seen everything in Kansas City. Gangs, drugs, corruption. Unfortunately, those are ordinary human activities. But this place...” He trailed off. “There’s something different about the darkness here.”

They fell silent again as Jenna turned onto Jake’s street, pulling up in front of his modest home. The porch light glowed welcome.

Jake unbuckled his seatbelt but didn’t immediately move to leave. The air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken words.

Jenna found herself remembering the simple kiss he’d placed on her cheek days earlier—the warmth of his lips, the gentleness of the gesture. Against her better judgment, she found herself wishing he might repeat it tonight. And maybe then she would …

But the moment stretched and thinned, and finally Jake reached for the door handle.

“Get some rest,” he said, his voice low. “Tomorrow we need to figure out what connects Winters and Palmer beyond just being Walsh’s patients.”

“I will,” she promised, though rest seemed unlikely. “Good night, Jake.”

He nodded, stepping out into the night. “Night, Jenna.”

She watched him walk to his front door, turning only once to wave before disappearing inside. The porch light flicked off moments later, leaving Jenna alone in the dark car.

With a sigh, she put the vehicle in drive, but she wasn’t ready to head home yet. She glanced at the dashboard clock and decided it wasn’t too late for the one more stop she wanted to make tonight.

As she drove through the sleeping town, Jenna couldn’t shake the feeling that the darkness Frank’s grandmother had spoken of wasn’t just awake—it was hungry.