Page 8 of In Her Dreams (Jenna Graves #7)
An all-too-familiar object hung on the wall of the bedroom, a chaotic tangle of dull threads, its feathers ragged and lifeless. With a gasp Jenna turned her attention back to the young woman lying on the floor, her face frozen in an expression Jenna had seen all too recently—pure terror.
“Her name is Anita?” she asked, kneeling and pressing her fingers against the woman’s neck, searching for any whisper of a pulse beneath the cool skin.
“Anita Palmer,” came the answer.
Jenna shifted position, placing the heel of her hand on the center of Anita’s chest, covering it with her other hand. Without hesitation, she began compressions, her body automatically falling into the rhythm she’d practiced countless times in training.
Useless, her mind told her. She knew that if this was the woman she’d seen in her dream, it was too late. But this was the physical world. She didn’t stop.
“One, two, three, four,” she counted under her breath, keeping time. After thirty compressions, she tilted Anita’s head back, pinched her nose, and delivered two rescue breaths.
The woman’s chest rose artificially with the breaths, then fell still again. Jenna returned to compressions.
“Did you call 911?” she asked the roommate without looking up.
“Yes,” came the choked reply. She hovered at the edge of Jenna’s peripheral vision, her hands clutched together tightly. “They said—they said they’re coming. Oh God, is she—”
“Keep talking to me,” Jenna interrupted, not wanting the woman to spiral further. “What is your name?”
“Alice Bowen,” came the reply. “We’re both teachers. First and second grade at Greenville Elementary. I teach second. Anita’s the first-grade teacher. We—we’ve been friends since college. Decided to share this house three years ago.”
Jenna nodded, keeping her focus on the compressions. Sweat beaded on her forehead from the exertion. “What happened this morning? Walk me through it.”
“It was just another morning,” Alice said, her voice trembling.
“We both usually wake up around six, but today Anita wasn’t up.
I thought it was odd since she always starts the coffee.
I took my shower, thinking she’d be up by then.
But when I came out and saw the kitchen still empty, I got this uneasy feeling. ”
Alice paused to steady her breath. “I went to check on her in the bedroom. That’s when I found her—just lying there on the floor.
She looked so still... I tried to shake her awake, but nothing worked.
” Her words turned into a sob as she recalled the panic that followed.
“I called 911 immediately and then ran outside, yelling for anyone nearby to help.”
In the distance, the wail of sirens cut through the morning quiet. Jenna continued CPR, ignoring the burn in her arms and shoulders. The sirens grew louder, then cut off abruptly. Doors slammed outside, followed by the sound of feet pounding up the front steps.
“In here!” Alice called out, her voice strangled with desperation.
Seconds later, the first two paramedics burst into the room, equipment ready, a woman and a man. The woman knelt beside Jenna.
“Sheriff Graves,” she said. “We’ve got it from here.”
Jenna nodded and moved back, surrendering her position. Her muscles protested as she stood, the sudden cessation of movement making her light-headed. She wiped sweat from her brow as the paramedics took over, their movements synchronized from years of working together.
The male paramedic attached pads to Anita’s chest while his partner prepared the defibrillator. Another paramedic appeared in the doorway with additional equipment.
“No pulse,” the woman announced. “Beginning defibrillation.”
“Clear,” her partner called.
Anita’s body jerked as the electric current passed through her. The paramedics checked for a pulse, found none, and repeated the process. Jenna found herself counting the attempts, each one diminishing her hope.
After the fourth attempt, the female paramedic looked up at her partner and gave a slight shake of her head. She checked her watch.
“Time of death, 7:42 a.m.”
Alice made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob, then crumpled against the wall, sliding down until she sat on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest. The female paramedic went to her side, speaking softly.
Jenna stood frozen, her eyes locked on Anita’s still face. The sense of déjà vu was overwhelming. Just like Richard Winters—the expression of absolute terror, the seemingly inexplicable death. Her gaze drifted up to the wall above Anita’s bed again.
The dreamcatcher that hung there was a near-twin of the one in the Winters bedroom. Jenna stepped closer to examine it, her mind racing. Two deaths, two very odd dreamcatchers. It couldn’t be coincidence.
This one also hada disturbing, almost frenetic design. Dull, ragged feathers hung from the bottom, and along the rim of the circle were small, pointed objects woven into the design. On the one at the Winters home, she’d thought that those looked disturbingly like teeth, but these were larger.
More like beaks, she thought, remembering the dream.
“Excuse me,” she said to the paramedic who was now completing paperwork. “I need to step out and make a call.”
He nodded, and Jenna moved into the hallway, pulling out her phone. She dialed Jake’s number, waiting as it rang twice before he answered.
“Hawkins,” came his familiar voice.
“Jake, it’s me. I need you to pick me up. We’ve got another one.”
A brief pause. “Like Winters?”
“Exactly like Winters. Young woman, Anita Palmer. Found dead in her bedroom, expression of terror on her face. And Jake—there’s another dreamcatcher.”
His sharp intake of breath was audible even through the phone. “Text me the address. I’ll be there in ten.”
Jenna ended the call and slipped the phone back into her pocket. She returned to the bedroom, where two paramedics were preparing to transport Anita’s body. Alice remained on the floor, the female paramedic still at her side, offering quiet comfort.
Jenna approached them, kneeling to meet the roommate’s tear-streaked face. “Alice, I know this is incredibly difficult, but I need to ask you a few questions while we wait for my deputy to arrive.”
Alice nodded weakly, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her robe.
“That dreamcatcher on the wall—where did Anita get it?”
The question seemed to surprise Alice, who blinked in confusion. “The dreamcatcher? I—I don’t know, exactly. She got it a couple of months ago. She wouldn’t say where from. Which was a little weird because Anita usually tells me everything.”
“Did you notice any change in her behavior after she got it?”
Alice’s brow furrowed. “She became more... confident, I guess? Especially about her phobia.”
“Phobia?”
“She was terrified of birds,” Alice said, fresh tears welling in her eyes.
“Ornithophobia, it’s called. We had to keep the windows closed in the mornings because the birds singing outside would send her into a full anxiety attack.
It gave her nightmares and insomnia. But about two months ago, she said she’d found a way to overcome it.
She started opening windows, even sat in the park feeding ducks last weekend.
” Alice shook her head in disbelief. “I was so happy for her. It seemed like a miracle.”
Jenna’s blood ran cold. Two months ago—the same timeframe as Richard Winters and his claustrophobia.
“Did she mention the name of anyone connected with this change?”
Alice shook her head. “No, she just said she’d found a way to face her fears. She seemed reluctant to talk about it and I didn’t push because she seemed so happy.”
“Did she have any health conditions?” Jenna asked. “A heart condition, maybe?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Alice said. “She was perfectly healthy. I just don’t understand.”
The paramedics had finished their preparations. They lifted Anita’s body onto a stretcher and covered it with a sheet. The lead paramedic approached Jenna.
“We’re taking her to the county morgue,” he said quietly. “Dr. Stark has been notified.”
Jenna nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be heading there shortly.”
As the two men wheeled Anita’s body out, Jenna turned back to Alice. “Is there someone who can stay with you? You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“My sister,” Alice said, her voice small. “She lives in Danville. I’ll call her.”
“Good. I’ll have an officer stay with you until she arrives.” Jenna hesitated, then added, “I’m very sorry for your loss, Alice. I promise we’ll figure out what happened to Anita.”
As she spoke, she sent a text message to Officer Reynolds, who replied that she was on her way. Then, the sound of a car pulling up outside drew Jenna’s attention. She glanced out the window to see Jake’s familiar vehicle.
“That’s my deputy,” she said. “I have to go, but Officer Reynolds will be here soon to stay with you until your sister arrives.”
The female paramedic said softly, “I’ll stay until your officer gets here.”
Alice nodded numbly. Jenna touched her shoulder briefly, then headed for the front door.
The morning sun felt incongruously bright and cheerful. Birds chirped in the trees lining the quiet suburban street, and somewhere a lawnmower hummed. The normalcy of it all created a jarring contrast with the tragedy inside the house.
Jake stood leaning against his car, his expression shifting from professional detachment to concern when he saw her face.
“That bad?” he asked as she approached.
“Worse,” Jenna replied, keeping her voice low. “I dreamed about her death, Jake. Just after it happened. I saw her being swarmed by birds.”
Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “And she had a bird phobia?”
“Ornithophobia. According to her roommate, she’d recently ‘overcome’ it, around the same time she acquired the dreamcatcher.”
“Just like Winters and his claustrophobia,” Jake muttered, opening the passenger door for her. “This is getting weirder by the minute.”
Jenna slid into the seat, her mind whirling with connections and implications.
They drove in thoughtful silence, each processing the mounting evidence of something beyond ordinary crime.
The courthouse came into view, its imposing brick facade a familiar landmark in the small town.
Beneath it lay the county morgue, where Melissa Stark would already be preparing for their arrival.
Jake parked then turned to Jenna. “Ready?”
She nodded, though “ready” was hardly the word for the churning mixture of dread and determination she felt. They entered through the side entrance, descending the stairs that led to the basement level where the morgue was located.
The temperature dropped noticeably as they entered the sterile environment. The harsh fluorescent lighting bounced off gleaming metal surfaces, and the pervasive smell of antiseptic filled the air. Dr. Melissa Stark stood over a body—Anita’s body—her gloved hands moving with precision.
She looked up as they entered, her expression professional but with an undercurrent of concern that Jenna had come to recognize over years of working together.
“Sheriff, Deputy,” she greeted them, straightening up. “I was just getting started.”
“What can you tell us so far?” Jenna asked, approaching the examination table.
Melissa sighed, pulling down her mask. “Preliminary observations suggest cardiac arrest, just like Winters. No obvious external cause. No immediate evidence of drugs or alcohol.” She gestured to Anita’s face.
“And then there’s this expression of terror.
I’ve been a coroner for twenty-two years, and I haven’t seen anything exactly like it. ”
She looked directly at Jenna.
“Do you have any idea whether she had some kind of preexisting condition?”
“No, her roommate said she was perfectly healthy.”
Melissa shook her head. “This is one of your peculiar cases, isn’t it? The kind that makes me question whether my scientific background is comprehensive enough to explain what happens in this town.”
Jenna didn’t answer immediately. Her relationship with Melissa was built on mutual respect and a tacit understanding that some things defied conventional explanation.
Melissa had never pushed for details about Jenna’s methods or insights, but she recognized patterns that fell outside normal parameters.
“We’re looking into connections between this case and Winters,” Jenna said finally. “Both had recently claimed to overcome long-standing phobias.”
“And both appear to have died of fright,” Melissa added grimly. “I’ll expedite the autopsy, but I suspect we’ll find the same results as with Winters—a heart that simply couldn’t withstand the surge of adrenaline and terror.”
Jenna and Jake exchanged a glance, then moved a few steps away for privacy.
“We need to talk to Cassie Rivera,” Jenna said quietly. “Whatever this is, it’s not standard police work anymore.”
Jake’s expression showed brief hesitation. “Your fortune-telling friend?” he asked. “You think she’ll have insight about those dreamcatchers?”
“If anyone in town knows about esoteric symbols, it’s Cassie. She’s been deep into that world for years.” Jenna paused, then added, “Let’s hope she doesn’t ask too many questions about how we’re connecting these cases.”
Jake nodded, his slight reservation giving way to trust in her judgment. “Let’s do it, then.”
They turned back to Melissa, who was already resuming her examination. “We’ll check in later for the full report,” Jenna told her. “Call if you find anything unusual—anything at all.”
“Don’t I always?” Melissa replied without looking up.
As they prepared to leave, Jenna cast one final glance at Anita’s body. In death, the teacher looked impossibly young, her potential cut short by something Jenna couldn’t yet name. Was somebody using fear itself as a weapon?