Page 15 of In Her Dreams (Jenna Graves #7)

Jenna guided her cruiser through the streets of Trentville, the familiar contours of her hometown blurring slightly at the edges of her vision.

She felt tired from that tense meeting with Mayor Simmons, but she wasn’t ready to head home yet.

Her mother’s house wasn’t far, and Jenna needed to check on her, see how she was doing.

The houses she passed stood in neat rows, their windows glowing amber against the purple dusk. As she approached her childhood home, Jenna felt the weight of all she couldn’t say, alongside all she desperately needed to understand.

Her headlights swept across the modest two-story house where she had grown up, catching the reflection of fresh paint on the shutters.

Since her mother had stopped drinking, small improvements had appeared around the property—pruned rosebushes, swept walkways, a repaired porch step that had creaked for years.

Each change was modest, but collectively they spoke volumes.

Warm light spilled from the windows, casting long rectangles across the lawn.

Her mother was awake, perhaps reading or working on one of the puzzles she’d taken to doing since joining AA.

Jenna killed the engine and sat for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

She’d need to be careful about what she shared regarding the recent case—some details were too heavy to burden her recovering mother with.

When she got out of the car and made her way up the walkway, the door swung open before she could knock.

“I saw your headlights,” Margaret Graves said, stepping aside. “Come on in before you let all the bugs inside.”

Jenna stepped into the entryway and was immediately struck by a subtle but noticeable change in the air.

“You’ve been cleaning,” she observed, following her mother into the living room. “And... is that lavender?”

Margaret nodded, adjusting her reading glasses. “Essential oil diffuser. My sponsor says scents can help reprogram the mind’s associations with places.” She gave a small, self-conscious shrug. “Sounds like new age nonsense, but I like how it smells, so why not?”

Her mother settled back into her armchair, a dog-eared paperback novel face-down on the armrest beside her.

Jenna took in the sight before her—Margaret’s face had filled out, the hollows beneath her cheekbones less pronounced.

Her eyes, once perpetually bloodshot and evasive, now met Jenna’s with clear purpose.

Even her posture seemed different—straighter, more present.

“You look good, Mom,” Jenna said, lowering herself onto the couch across from her mother.

Margaret’s lips curved into a hint of a smile. “Some days are better than others.” She studied Jenna’s face. “You, on the other hand, look exhausted. Is it this case I’ve been hearing about? The mine?”

Jenna nodded, choosing her words carefully. “We managed to rescue two victims who were being held by a group that goes by the name of Harvesters.”

“That’s what they’re calling them now? Those organ traffickers?” Margaret’s voice held a mixture of disgust and disbelief. “Is that what’s keeping you up at night?”

“Partly,” Jenna admitted. She deliberately omitted any mention of the lucid dream that had guided her to the mine’s location, or the unsettling moment when one of the victims had looked at her with recognition, possibly mistaking her for Piper.

She also couldn’t tell her about the mysterious deaths of Richard Winters and Anita Palmer.

Some things were too complicated, too raw to share, even with—especially with—her mother.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you saved those people,” Margaret said. “That must feel good, knowing you made a difference.” Her voice softened. “Your father would have been proud.”

Jenna nodded, swallowing against the sudden tightness in her throat. “How about you? How are things going... with the program?”

Margaret fidgeted with the corner of her book. “Day by day, like they say. I’m working through Step 8 now.” She gave a humorless laugh. “Making a list of all the people I’ve harmed and becoming willing to make amends. It’s... uncomfortable.”

“I can imagine,” Jenna said, though in truth, she knew she couldn’t fully comprehend the emotional weight of such an exercise.

“You’re at the top of my list, you know,” Margaret said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re going to be hearing a lot from me when I get to Step 9.”

Jenna leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Mom, you’re making amends to me every day you stay sober.”

Margaret chuckled, the sound rough around the edges.

“I wish it were that simple, honey. The program says we have to actually articulate the harm we’ve done, acknowledge it specifically.

” She met Jenna’s eyes with a raw vulnerability that made Jenna’s chest ache.

“I’ve been practicing what I’ll say to you.

Been practicing for weeks now, actually. ”

“Mom—”

“No, let me finish. This is important.” Margaret drew a steadying breath. “I wasn’t there for you after Piper disappeared. Not really. I was there physically, but I checked out emotionally. And then after your father died...” She shook her head. “Well, we both know I checked out completely then.”

The silence that followed felt heavy with years of unspoken pain.

“I know it can’t be easy,” Jenna finally said. “The fact that you’re doing it at all means so, so much.”

Margaret smiled faintly. “That’s what Zeke says too.”

“Speaking of Zeke,” Jenna said, seizing the opportunity to shift the conversation to less painful ground, “he seems to be around a lot these days.”

A flicker of something—defensiveness? embarrassment?—crossed Margaret’s face. “He’s my sponsor. We meet regularly to discuss my progress.”

“Mmhmm,” Jenna hummed noncommittally. Her investigative instincts, honed over years of law enforcement, picked up on the slight flush that colored her mother’s cheeks. “Is that all he is? Just your sponsor?”

“Jenna Marie Graves,” Margaret said with exasperation that couldn’t quite mask her amusement. “Are you interrogating me about my love life? Because I assure you, there’s nothing to report.”

“So you’re saying if there was something to report, you would tell me?” Jenna pressed, a smile tugging at her lips.

Margaret shook her head, but there was fondness in her expression. “The program strongly discourages romantic relationships during early recovery, especially between sponsors and sponsees. It’s an ethical boundary that neither of us would cross.”

“But if it wasn’t for that...?” Jenna let the question hang.

“Then that would be my business,” Margaret replied firmly, but without heat. She adjusted her position in the chair, wincing slightly. “Anyway, enough about my non-existent romantic prospects. What about you and that deputy of yours?”

“Jake?” Jenna blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in focus. “He’s not ‘my’ deputy, Mom. He works for the department.”

“Mmm.” Margaret raised an eyebrow. “You barely mention anyone else from work, but Jake’s name comes up in every conversation. And I’ve only met him a handful of times, but I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

“You’ve barely spoken to him,” Jenna protested.

“I don’t need to speak to him to see it,” Margaret countered. “It’s written all over his face whenever you’re in the room. And frankly, it’s in your voice whenever you talk about him.”

Jenna felt heat rising to her cheeks. “It’s complicated.”

“Life is complicated,” Margaret said, leaning forward slightly.

“That doesn’t mean you should put it on hold.

I know—” Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat before continuing.

“I know that Piper’s disappearance changed everything for you.

For both of us. But honey, you can’t keep living for the day she might come back. ”

“I’m not—” Jenna began automatically, then stopped herself. Wasn’t she? Hadn’t she been holding a piece of herself in reserve all these years, as if fully embracing her own life would somehow be a betrayal of her missing twin?

“You are,” Margaret said gently. “And I understand it. God knows I’ve done the same thing. But at some point, you have to decide to really live, not just exist. I’m trying to do that now, and it’s terrifying. But it’s also... necessary.”

The rawness in her mother’s voice created a moment of profound connection between them. For the first time in years—perhaps since before Piper’s disappearance—Jenna felt like she was truly seeing her mother, not just the grief or the addiction that had consumed her.

“I’ll think about it,” Jenna said, meaning it.

Margaret nodded, apparently satisfied. “That’s all I ask.”

They spoke for a while longer about safer topics—Margaret’s newfound interest in gardening, the book club she was considering joining at the library, Jenna’s plans to replace the aging roof on her own small house.

The conversation flowed more easily than it had in years, though the undercurrent of deeper emotions remained.

When Jenna finally rose to leave, Margaret walked her to the door, pausing with her hand on the knob.

“I know I’ve said this before, but I’m proud of you, Jenna,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “Not just for the job or for saving those people, but for who you are. You’ve carried so much for so long.” She hesitated, then added, “I made it harder for you, not easier. I’m sorry for that.”

Jenna surprised them both by stepping forward and embracing her mother tightly. Margaret stiffened momentarily before her arms came up to return the hug, her body trembling slightly.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Jenna promised as they pulled apart.

“I’d like that,” Margaret replied, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

The drive back through Trentville’s quiet streets gave Jenna time to process the visit.

Her thoughts whirled between pride in her mother’s progress and the echoing emptiness of Piper’s absence that still haunted them both.

The conversation about Jake had rattled her more than she cared to admit.

First, Frank had made comments about their connection, and now her mother.

Was it really that obvious to everyone except Jenna and Jake themselves?

Her phone rang, cutting through her thoughts. The dashboard display showed Melissa Stark’s name. Jenna tapped the button to accept the call through the car’s speaker system.

“Graves,” she answered, professional mode immediately engaging.

“Jenna, it’s Melissa.” The coroner’s voice sounded tired but alert. “I’ve got those lab results back on Anita Palmer.”

Jenna’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “And?”

“Same pattern of stress hormones we found in Richard Winters. Identical, in fact. Cortisol levels through the roof, adrenaline surge so massive it would have felt like being hunted by a predator. Whatever these two experienced before death, physiologically speaking, it was the same phenomenon.”

A chill ran down Jenna’s spine despite the warm night air. “So we’re definitely looking at connected deaths.”

“Science says yes,” Melissa confirmed. “Both died from extreme terror triggering fatal cardiac events. In Palmer’s case, she was younger with no pre-existing heart condition, so it took more to push her over the edge, but the biochemical signature is the same.”

“What about toxicology?” Jenna asked, slowing to turn onto her street.

“Clean on both victims,” Melissa replied. “Whatever caused this wasn’t chemical in nature—at least not anything introduced from outside.”

After a pause, Melissa added, “I don’t understand this, Jenna. I hope you do. Or if you don’t, I hope you can figure it out.”

“Thanks, Melissa. I appreciate you calling with this.”

“Get some sleep, Sheriff. You sound exhausted.”

The call ended, and Jenna pulled into her driveway, cutting the engine. She sat for a moment in the dark car, allowing the implications of the new information to sink in.

The quiet streets of Trentville suddenly felt ominous, as if something might be watching from between the houses.

Jenna’s thoughts turned to Frank’s recounting of his grandmother’s warnings—about a darkness tied to the land of Genesius County, an ancient malevolence that fed on fear and occasionally awakened to feed.

The recent string of horrific events seemed less like isolated incidents and more like manifestations of something larger. Serial killers. Human traffickers harvesting organs. People are dying of their worst fears. This small county had seen more than its share of darkness.

As Jenna unlocked her front door and stepped into her quiet house, exhaustion settled into her bones.

The pieces were all there, but the full picture remained elusive.

The dreamcatchers were found with both victims. Dr. Walsh’s secretive behavior.

The expressions of pure terror froze on the victims’ faces.

Jenna moved through her darkened house, not bothering with lights. As she prepared for bed, her mother’s words echoed in her mind. At some point, you have to decide to really live, not just exist.

She slipped between the cool sheets, her body heavy with fatigue but her mind still racing. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, possibly new dangers. But for tonight, she would try to rest.

As Jenna’s consciousness began to drift, one final thought surfaced: what if her mother, in her stumbling journey toward recovery, had inadvertently discovered a truth that Jenna herself had been missing all along?

What if the strength needed to face whatever dark force was stirring in Genesius County could only be found by fully embracing life, rather than holding part of herself in reserve?

With that unsettling question floating in her mind, Jenna finally surrendered to sleep.