Page 17 of In Her Dreams (Jenna Graves #7)
Minutes later, Jenna was on the road to Frank’s house.
She’d known Sam Rodriguez almost as long as she’d known Frank.
He had been there when she first joined the force, patient and kind, teaching her the intricacies of small-town policing that academy training couldn’t provide.
The thought of him being a victim made her stomach churn.
When she pulled up in Frank’s driveway, he must have been watching for her; he stepped out onto the porch before she could even cut the engine.
“Morning,” he said, his weathered face grave as he slid into the passenger seat, handing her a travel mug of coffee that smelled good and holding out a biscuit with a bit of scrambled egg sandwiched between its layers.
“I knew you wouldn’t take the time to get something to eat,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said, accepting them gratefully.
“So you knew about Sam even before I did,” he commented.
“I had this dream last night. I saw Sam trying to write something in a notebook, but he couldn’t.
I saw a dreamcatcher, too—actually, it was like the whole dream took place inside another dreamcatcher.
It wasn’t exactly like the ones we found at Winters’ and Palmer’s.
I didn’t see all of it, but it seemed just as strange as the first two. And it kind of hummed with energy.”
With a final swallow of egg-biscuit, Jenna put the coffee in the in a holder and reversed the cruiser out of the driveway.
The miles ticked by in silence, both lost in their thoughts. The early morning sun painted the Ozark hills in shades of amber and gold. The beauty felt obscene against the horror of what was happening there—people dying from their own fears.
“Have you let Jake know about this?” Frank asked.
“No, I’d better do that.”
Jenna tapped the car phone’s console as she dialed Jake. His voice came through the speakers on the second ring.
“Hawkins,” he answered, revealing that he’d been too sound asleep to even check who was calling.
“Jake, it’s me.” Jenna put the phone on speaker so Frank could hear. “We have another victim.”
“What? Who?” Jake’s voice crackled through the car speakers.
“Sam Rodriguez. Former officer, retired about six years ago. You met him once, I think, after he left the force.”
“Yeah, I remember. Older guy, had trouble with open spaces? Agoraphobia, right?”
“That’s him.” Jenna took a sharp turn, earning a concerned glance from Frank. She eased off the accelerator. “Frank and I are heading to his place now.”
There was a momentary pause. “You dreamed…?
“Yes, and this morning Frank got a call from his wife, Mary.” Then she corrected herself, “His widow. She told him he was dead.”
“Is there a dreamcatcher?”
“There seemed to be in my dream. I don’t know yet whether he had one. I’ll update you as soon as I learn more, but everything about his death sounds the same as the others.”
“I’m almost at the station. Want me to meet you there?”
“No, stay put for now. I’ll call you back.”
She ended the call and glanced at Frank, who was staring out the window, his face a mask of worry.
“Sam was one of my oldest friends,” he said quietly. “We joined the force together, back when Duke Pulliam was sheriff.”
Jenna nodded, remembering. “You never told me how his agoraphobia started.”
Frank shook his head. “It was gradual. Got worse after a bad call—hostage situation at the bank. He was fine indoors, but open spaces started to terrify him. By the time he retired, he could barely leave his house.”
“I never knew of Sam having any other kind of health condition,” she said.
“No, he was perfectly healthy for a man his age,” Frank said.
They pulled onto Elm Street, a quiet lane lined with modest ranch homes. Sam and Mary lived in a pale blue one at the end, with neat flowerbeds and white trim. There were two sedans parked in the driveway.
“That’s Ethel Walker’s car,” Frank said, nodding at one of the sedans. “She and Mary are in the same church group.”
They parked on the street and approached the house. The front door opened before they could knock, revealing a woman in her sixties with silver hair pulled into a tight bun. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her mouth set in a grim line.
“Frank,” she said with a nod. “Sheriff Graves. I suppose you heard.”
“Yes, I did, Ethel,” Frank acknowledged. “Mary called me. Is she inside?”
“In the bedroom. She hasn’t moved from there since...” Ethel’s voice faltered. “Since they took him.”
“Can we see her?” Jenna asked, her voice softer than usual.
Ethel stepped aside, letting them into the dim interior.
“Down the hall, second door on the right,” Ethel said. “I’m making some fresh coffee. I’ll bring it right away.”
Jenna and Frank moved through the living room, past framed photos of Sam and Mary—at their wedding, on vacations, with grown children and grandchildren. A life now fractured beyond repair.
The bedroom door stood partially open. Jenna knocked softly before pushing it wider. Mary Rodriguez sat at the foot of the bed, her small frame hunched, absently twisting her wedding band. Her gaze was fixed on something on the wall opposite—a dreamcatcher.
Unlike the ugly, chaotic ones from Winters’ and Palmer’s homes, this one was strangely beautiful.
The central web was intricate, threads shimmering in the morning light that filtered through the curtains.
Small crystals caught the sun, casting rainbow prisms across the walls.
Feathers hung from the bottom, soft and perfectly arranged.
But even in its beauty, Jenna recognized it as the vast dreamcatcher from her dream. The one she had found herself wandering through before she found Sam.
“Mary,” Frank said gently, sitting beside her on the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight. “We’re so sorry.”
Mary turned slowly, as if emerging from a trance. Her eyes were vacant, shock written across her lined face.
“Frank. Jenna.” She nodded. “I knew you’d come.”
Jenna pulled up a chair from the corner, positioning it to face them both. She could feel the dreamcatcher watching her from the wall.
Ethel came into the bedroom, bringing a tray with three coffee cups and cream and sugar.
“Thank you, Ethel,” Mary said. “Could you leave us alone for a little bit?”
Ethel nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind her.
“Ethel’s been very kind,” Mary continued. “But I’m glad you’re here.” She looked at Jenna. “Both of you.”
“Mary,” Frank took her hand. “Can you tell us what happened?”
Mary drew a shuddering breath, her gaze drifting back to the dreamcatcher.
“I was asleep. It was around three in the morning when I heard this... thump. I didn’t see Sam, so I thought he had gotten up for water or his medication.
” She paused, swallowing hard. “But I didn’t hear anything, so I got up to check.
I saw him lying at the foot of the bed. On the floor. His face—”
Her voice broke.
“He looked terrified, Jenna. Like he’d seen something no one should ever see.”
Jenna leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “What did you do then?”
“Called 911 right away. Started CPR. But I knew...” Mary’s fingers twisted more frantically at her wedding band. “I knew he was already gone. The paramedics tried for twenty minutes. Then they took him to the morgue.”
Jenna realized that it must have been like what she had experienced with Anita Palmer—especially awful for Mary, alone, trying to save her husband.
Frank squeezed Mary’s hand. “Had Sam been acting strangely lately? Anything unusual?”
“He’d been... different. For weeks now.” Mary’s eyes flickered to the dreamcatcher again. “I knew something was wrong, but he wouldn’t—seemed almost like he couldn’t—tell me what it was.”
“Mary,” Jenna said carefully, “we know Sam struggled with agoraphobia for years. Was he still having problems with that?”
Mary’s head snapped up, surprise flashing across her face.
“No, that’s just it. His agoraphobia disappeared about two months ago. Almost like magic.” She gestured to the dreamcatcher. “Around the same time, he brought that home and hung it there. He started going outside again. Even to the grocery store and the park.”
Jenna and Frank exchanged a glance.
“Did Sam ever tell you where he got the dreamcatcher?” Jenna asked.
Mary shook her head, frustration creasing her brow.
“That’s what was so strange. He never explained it.
Every time he tried to talk about it, or about how his fears had suddenly vanished, he’d just..
. stop. Like something was physically preventing him from speaking.
” Her eyes welled with tears. “It upset him terribly. Sam was always honest with me about everything.”
Frank frowned. “Was it that he couldn’t remember or that he couldn’t say what he remembered?”
“I’m not sure.” Mary wiped at her eyes with a tissue. “Both, maybe? He’d start to say something, then get this confused look, then just go silent. Like the words were stuck.”
Jenna’s gaze traveled back to the dreamcatcher. It was hypnotic, somehow both soothing and unsettling. Then, she saw a small leather-bound notebook on the nightstand.
“Did he ever try to write it down instead?” she asked, remembering her dream.
Mary nodded, pointing to the notebook. “He bought that a few weeks ago. Thought maybe he could write what he couldn’t say.”
Jenna picked up the notebook, feeling its worn leather cover.
It was identical to the ones Sam used to carry as a cop, and to the one from her dream.
She flipped it open. The pages were mostly blank, except for a few with strange, jagged lines—not words, not even recognizable shapes. Just frantic scribbling.
“He’d tear the pages out and throw them away when he got frustrated,” Mary said.
Jenna moved to the small wastebasket beside the nightstand. It contained several crumpled balls of paper. She carefully unfolded one, revealing more of the incomprehensible markings.
“Had Sam sought help for these issues recently?” Jenna asked.
Mary hesitated, twisting her wedding band again.
“He went to see a hypnotherapist in Pinecrest yesterday. Valerie Mercer. He was desperate to break through whatever was keeping him silent. He felt better after seeing her, but still couldn’t tell me what he wanted to say.
Said maybe after another session, he could finally tell me everything. ”
Jenna’s mind raced, connecting dots. “Another session?”
“Yes, he’d already made another appointment.” Mary’s eyes filled with fresh tears. “Now he’s gone, and he could never say what he wanted to.”
“Mary,” Jenna said gently, “did Sam ever see Dr. Anthony Walsh for his agoraphobia?”
Again, surprise registered on Mary’s face.
“Yes, for several years. But he stopped seeing Dr. Walsh around the same time he brought home the dreamcatcher. Wouldn’t go back to him after that.” She frowned. “Wouldn’t even talk about him. How did you know?”
Jenna exchanged another look with Frank, whose expression had darkened.
“We’re investigating a series of... unusual deaths,” Jenna said carefully. “There may be connections to Dr. Walsh, but that’s not certain yet.”
Mary’s gaze drifted back to the object on the wall. “You mean—foul play? How is that even possible? I’m sure no one got into the house last night. You think that thing had something to do with Sam’s death?”
“I don’t know,” Jenna admitted. “But I intend to find out.” She took out her cell phone and snapped pictures of the dreamcatcher, both closeup and distance shots.
She stood, tucking the notebook into her jacket pocket. “Frank, would you stay with Mary for a while? I need to follow up on something.”
Frank nodded, understanding in his eyes. “Of course.”
Jenna squeezed Mary’s shoulder gently. “I promise you, we’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
Outside, the morning had brightened, sunlight glinting off the windows of neighboring houses. The ordinary peacefulness of the street felt jarring after the heavy grief inside Sam’s home.
Sliding into her car, Jenna pulled out her phone and dialed Jake again.
“Update me, Jenna,” came the quick answer.
“Sam Rodriguez died with terror on his face—just like Winters and Palmer. And there’s another dreamcatcher.” She started the engine. “I’m coming to pick you up at the station. We need to pay Dr. Walsh another visit.”
“I’ll be waiting out front,” Jake replied, his voice grim.
Jenna ended the call and pulled away from the curb, the image of the beautiful yet sinister dreamcatcher burned into her mind. Three victims now, all connected by these strange objects, Dr. Walsh, and their deepest fears.
Whatever lurked in Genesius County, it was growing stronger.