Page 21 of In Her Fears (Jenna Graves #8)

Jenna massaged her temples as Jake guided the patrol car into a vacant spot across the street fromthe Starlight Canvas Gallery.

“You okay?” Jake asked, his voice gentle as he killed the engine.

Jenna nodded automatically, then caught herself. “No. But it doesn’t matter.”

Jake studied her face. “We can handle this tomorrow if—”

“No,” Jenna said more firmly. “If there’s a chance someone else could die tonight, we don’t have the luxury of waiting.”

The street was quieter now, most shops closing for the day. A few pedestrians hurried past, eager to get home for dinner. Jenna envied their ordinary concerns, their uncomplicated evenings ahead.

She pushed the car door open and got out. She and Jake needed to speak with Eric Edwards about Elias’s unexpected request, but first there was a matter to discuss with the young assistant, Jay Langham.

Jake fell into step beside her as they crossed the street toward the gallery’s entrance. As they entered. Jay looked up, his expression shifting from boredom to wariness as he recognized them.

“Back so soon?” he asked, setting his phone down with deliberate casualness. “Find anything interesting at Harrow’s place?”

Jenna approached the counter, maintaining eye contact as she closed the distance between them. “Actually, we found a crowd of angry people ready to take justice into their own hands, all because someone spread rumors about evidence linking Elias Harrow to Alexis Downey’s murder.”

Jay’s face remained neutral, but Jenna caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “That’s terrible,” he said. “People shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

“No, they shouldn’t,” Jake agreed. “Especially when those conclusions are based on information that was never meant to be public.”

Jay’s gaze flicked between them. “What’s this got to do with me?”

“Several people at the Sunflower Café identified you as the source of those rumors,” Jenna said, her voice steady despite her exhaustion. “The owner specifically mentioned that you came in and told everyone we were investigating Harrow for murder.”

“That I—” Jay stopped himself, reconsidering. “I may have mentioned something about Harrow’s weird paintings when I was getting coffee, but I didn’t tell anyone to go to his house.”

“Let’s not waste time with denials, Jay. We have multiple witnesses.”

"The café owner said you specifically described one of Harrow's paintings—a man tied to a tree with a stake through his heart, a pentagram carved above him," Jake added. "That's not information you casually drop into conversation."

Jay’s posture stiffened, his earlier pretense of innocence evaporating. “Fine. Yeah, I told them. So what? People deserve to know when there’s a killer living in their town.”

“Except we never said Harrow was a killer,” Jenna countered. “You decided that on your own and then deliberately incited public action.”

“After you left, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together,” Jay said, crossing his arms defensively.

“You show up asking about Harrow’s creepy death paintings, then suddenly you’re really interested in that specific one that looks like some kind of ritual murder?

What was I supposed to think? Harrow was a ticking bomb.

Anyone could see that. It’s no surprise that he went off the deep end. ”

“You were supposed to let law enforcement do their job,” Jake said.

Jay let out a bitter laugh. “Right. Because that’s been working so well.

Alexis is dead. She was...” His voice caught slightly.

“Everyone liked her, you know? Always remembered your order, always had something nice to say. And the cops are still just ‘investigating’ while the freak who painted her death keeps sitting free in his house.”

The naked emotion in Jay’s voice caught Jenna off guard. There was grief there, not just the righteousness of someone who thought they were doing a public service. But was the grief real?

“You knew Alexis well?” she asked.

“I stopped by the café most mornings, and afternoons during my break,” Jay admitted, his gaze dropping to the counter.

“She always had my order ready—large Americano, extra shot. Said I looked like I needed the caffeine.” A small, sad smile crossed his face.

“I asked her out once, but she was already with Ryan. We still talked, though. She was interested in art, was taking a class at the community college.”

“Did you also call Channel 8 News?” Jake asked.

Jay hesitated only briefly. “Yeah, I called them. That crowd showed up faster than I expected, and I figured having the press there would keep things from getting out of hand. Plus, public pressure might actually get you guys to do something.”

“What exactly do you think we should be doing?” Jenna asked, feeling her patience wearing dangerously thin.

“Arresting Harrow!” Jay’s voice rose in frustration. “His paintings show that he’s a psychopath. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s not that simple,” Jenna began.

“Did you arrest him?” Jay interrupted. “Is that why you’re back here instead of at his house?”

“No, we didn’t arrest him,” Jenna said.

“Then you’re wasting time questioning me when you should be doing your job,” Jay shot back. “I’m not the one killing people.”

Something in his tone—the righteous certainty, perhaps—triggered a surge of suspicion in Jenna’s exhausted mind.

Jay had access to the paintings. He regularly visited Harrow’s house to collect them.

Maybe he even knew the locations depicted in the photographs.

What if he was using Harrow’s disturbed visions as blueprints for his own twisted acts?

“Where were you last night between ten PM and midnight?” she asked abruptly.

Jay blinked, genuinely surprised by the shift. “What?”

“You heard me,” Jenna said, her voice hardening. “Where were you?”

“I was at The Den—the bar on Fourth Street. I was there from nine until closing. Ask the bartender, Mark. He knows me.”

“And when was the last time you were in Pinecrest?” Jenna pressed, leaning forward slightly. “Specifically near the cemetery?”

Jay’s expression changed from defensive to alarmed as he realized the implication.

“Whoa. Wait. Why are you asking me that?” He stepped back from the counter, hands raised as if to physically ward off her accusation.

“I’ve never been to Pinecrest in my life.

I don’t even know where the cemetery is. ”

Before Jenna could respond, she felt Jake’s hand on her elbow, gently but firmly pulling her aside.

“A word?” he murmured close to her ear.

He guided her a few steps away, his body positioned to block Jay from overhearing.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly.

“Following a potential lead,” Jenna replied, though even to her own ears, the justification sounded weak.

Jake shook his head slightly. “He’s a kid who did something dumb, Jenna. He’s not our killer.”

“How can you be so sure?” she challenged.

“Because I have good instincts too,” Jake said simply. “And everything about him reads as genuine grief and misplaced anger, not the calculation of a serial killer. Besides, remember his reaction when he first showed us those paintings? He was genuinely disturbed by them.”

Jenna pressed her fingers against her closed eyelids, willing her thoughts to clear.

But clarity wasn’t coming easily, and she couldn’t shake her suspicion of Jay.

Was she was letting her exhaustion cloud her judgment, making her see suspects where there were none while the real killer potentially prepared for another murder?

“I don’t know whether I’m coming or going,” she conceded, dropping her hand.

“We’re all running on empty,” Jake said, his voice gentle. “But we need to stay focused. We came here to talk to Eric about Elias’s request, remember?”

Jenna nodded, gathering her fraying composure. “Let’s do that.”

They returned to the counter where Jay watched them warily, still unsettled by Jenna’s accusatory questions.

“Is Eric still here?” Jenna asked, her tone deliberately neutral.

Jay nodded. “In his office.”

“We need to speak with him,” Jake said. “And Jay? No more calls to the press, no more stirring things up at the café. You’re interfering with a murder investigation, and that can have serious consequences.”

Jay had the grace to look slightly abashed. “Fine. Whatever.”

As Jake headed toward the back hallway, Jenna paused for a moment longer at the counter.

“You could have gotten someone hurt today,” she said quietly. “Maybe Elias, maybe one of those protestors, maybe one of my officers. That’s not how we get justice for Alexis.”

She turned before Jay could respond, following Jake down the hallway to Eric’s office.

Jake knocked on the office door, and Eric’s voice called for them to enter. He looked up from his desk as they stepped inside, a stack of papers in front of him.

“Sheriff, Deputy,” he greeted them, setting aside his work. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“We need to discuss something important,” Jenna said, settling into the chair across from his desk. “It’s about Elias Harrow.”

Eric’s expression tightened with concern. “Has something happened?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Jake said, taking the second chair. “There was a crowd gathered outside his house when we arrived—people from town who’d heard rumors about his paintings being connected to Alexis Downey’s murder.”

“My God,” Eric murmured. “Was he harmed?”

“No,” Jenna assured him. “We managed to disperse the crowd without incident. But in the process, we spoke with Elias again.”

She paused, choosing her next words carefully. “Mr. Edwards, Elias has made an unexpected request. He says he’ll talk about the paintings, but only to you. And only alone.”

Eric stared at her, clearly stunned. “To me? But he hasn’t spoken to me in seven years. He made it abundantly clear that our friendship was over.”

“Nevertheless, when asked if there was anyone he would speak to, yours was the only name he gave,” Jake said.

Eric sat back in his chair, his expression a complex mix of emotions—hope, apprehension, confusion.

“I... I’ve been waiting for this day for so long,” he said, his voice slightly unsteady.

“The last time he and I saw each other—Lina was there. The three of us were having a picnic. It was a great day—or so we thought. But that was the very night when …”

Eric’s voice faded. Jenna knew the words he was leaving unsaid. That was the night when Lina had died by her own hand.

“But why does he want to talk to me now?” Eric asked. “After all this time?”

“I think he’s frightened,” Jenna said. “And possibly recognizes that he needs help.”

She leaned forward as she emphasized the gravity of the situation.

“Mr. Edwards, there’s more you need to know.

That painting we asked about earlier—the one showing the man staked to a tree—it exactly matches a murder scene in Pinecrest Cemetery.

A man named Martin Holbrook was killed precisely as depicted in that painting a month ago. ”

“That’s... that’s impossible.”

“There’s more,” Jake added. “In Elias’s studio, we found a painting showing Alexis Downey’s murder—the exact scene we discovered this morning at the hunting lodge. But according to Elias, he painted it at least a week ago.”

“You’re saying Elias somehow... predicted these deaths?” Eric asked, visibly struggling with the concept.

“Or caused them,” Jenna said. “Or someone else saw his paintings and used them as inspiration. We don’t know which, but we need answers quickly, before anyone else dies.”

Eric was silent for a long moment, processing this information. Finally, he looked up, his decision evident in his expression.

“I’ll go to him,” he said firmly. “If there’s any chance I can help, I have to try. For Lina’s sake as much as Elias’s.”

“Thank you,” Jenna said, relief washing through her. “We believe another murder may be planned for tonight, following the lunar cycle of the previous two. Whatever information you can get from Elias could be crucial.”

“I’ll head over immediately,” Eric said, already standing and gathering his keys.

“Report to Officer Delgado when you arrive,” Jenna instructed. “She’s keeping watch at the house. I’ll call ahead and let her know to expect you.”

Eric nodded, slipping into his jacket. “I’ll do whatever I can to help him open up.”

They walked together through the gallery, Eric pausing only briefly to give Jay instructions about closing up.

As Eric headed toward his car, Jenna pulled out her phone to call Delgado. Before she could dial, the device vibrated in her hand, the screen lighting up with an incoming call. It was Mayor Claire Simmons.

Of course the mayor would have heard about the near-riot at Harrow’s house, probably from multiple sources by now. She could already imagine Claire’s reaction—the sharp disapproval, the political calculations, the thinly veiled accusations of mishandling the situation.

She drew a deep breath and answered. “Mayor Simmons.”

“My office. Now.” Claire’s voice was clipped, authoritative. “You and Deputy Hawkins both.”

“We’re in the middle of—”

“I don’t care what you’re in the middle of,” Claire interrupted. “There’s footage of an angry mob at a citizen’s house on the evening news. We need to discuss this immediately.”

Jenna went silent for a moment, then spoke sharply, “No.”

“What?” the mayor sounded shocked.

“I’m sorry Claire, but I won’t interrupt our investigation right now. Besides, the situation at the house is resolved. The crowd is gone, and so is the media.”

She heard the mayor’s furious intake of breath just before the line went dead.

“Well, that’s a first,” Jake commented approvingly. “And it’s high time.”

Jenna stood on the sidewalk with the phone in her hand, a bit startled at what she’d just done.

But she was too exhausted for a political confrontation with Claire Simmons, too foggy to navigate the mayor’s sharp questions and pointed criticisms. And worse, she knew that explaining the bizarre connection between Elias Harrow’s paintings and the murders would only make her sound increasingly unhinged to the pragmatic mayor.

Then Jake spoke firmly, “But you and I are making an important stop right now—just the two of us. No arguments, Jenna.”