Page 23 of In Her Fears (Jenna Graves #8)

Jenna stared down at the burger Jake had insisted she order, her stomach churning at the thought of eating. Such a long time without proper sleep had left her in a strange twilight state—simultaneously hyperaware of every sensory input and dangerously disconnected from her own thoughts.

“You need to eat something,” Jake said, pushing the tray closer to her. “Your body needs fuel.”

Jenna picked up a limp French fry, examining it as if it were evidence from a crime scene. “What I need is to catch this killer before someone else dies.”

“And you won’t do that if you collapse from exhaustion,” Jake countered, taking a bite of his own burger.

His reasonable tone grated on Jenna’s frayed nerves. The caring felt like pressure, the concern like doubt in her capabilities. She forced herself to take a bite of the burger, the taste barely registering as she swallowed with effort.

“I still think we’re underestimating Jay Langham,” she said. “He was the one who picked up Elias’s paintings, so he knew what they looked like. He knew the locations. He deliberately stirred up that mob today.”

Jake sighed, setting down his food. “Jay’s a kid with a chip on his shoulder who made stupid mistakes. His alibi for last night checks out—the bartender at the Centaur’s Den confirmed he was there until closing.”

“He knew Alexis from the café,” Jenna countered, her voice sharper than she intended. “Maybe he was obsessed with her.”

“That’s a stretch,” Jake said calmly. “Ashworth is far more suspect. He provided all the location photos. He knows these remote places intimately. And that church ruin in Gildner—doesn’t it strike you as odd that he was photographing it today of all days?”

“Maybe,” Jenna conceded reluctantly.

“I just hope Spelling’s officers are keeping a close eye on him,” Jake said, reaching for his soda. “If he is planning something for tonight, they’ll catch him before he can act.”

Jenna’s phone vibrated against the table, the screen lighting up with Eric Edwards’ name. She answered immediately, putting it on speaker.

“Eric? What happened with Elias?” she asked without preamble.

Eric’s voice came through, sounding tired. “Not much, I’m afraid. We talked, but... he’s not well, Sheriff. Seven years without proper sleep has taken its toll on his mind.”

“Did he say anything about the paintings? About how he knew details of the murders before they happened?” Jake leaned closer to the phone.

“He rambled a lot,” Eric replied, hesitation evident in his voice. “Something about visions coming to him in the twilight between waking and sleep. But honestly, I don’t think even he understands what’s happening. He’s just too deranged to make sense, even to himself.”

Jenna pressed her fingers against her forehead, where a headache had been building steadily. “Nothing specific about the murders? Nothing that might point to who’s behind them?”

“No, I’m sorry,” Eric said. “I really thought I might be able to get through to him, but...” His voice trailed off. “I wish I could have been more help.”

“It’s alright,” Jenna said, in spite of her disappointment. “Thank you for trying.”

The call ended, and Jenna stared at the phone for a moment before sliding it back into her pocket. Another dead end. Another potential victim waiting somewhere under the full moon that was already rising.

“So that’s it?” she snapped, frustration finally boiling over. “Harrow’s crazy, Jay’s just a misguided kid, and we’re supposed to sit here eating burgers while some poor soul gets murdered tonight?”

Jake’s expression hardened slightly. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying we need to approach this methodically. And part of that methodology is making sure you don’t collapse from exhaustion.”

“I’m fine,” Jenna insisted, but even as the words left her mouth, a wave of exhaustion crashed over her. The restaurant seemed to tilt around her. Her vision blurred at the edges, and for a moment she thought she might actually pass out right there in the booth.

Jake’s hand shot out to steady her arm. “Jenna? You okay?”

She tried to respond, but her mouth felt disconnected from her brain. The month of broken sleep, the stress of the investigation, the horror of the murders—it all seemed to hit her at once.

“That’s it,” Jake said firmly. “You need sleep. Real sleep. I’ll keep working the case while you get some rest.”

“No,” she protested weakly, but the word had no force behind it.

“This isn’t a debate,” Jake said, his tone gentler now. “You’re dead on your feet. Four hours of real sleep will make you sharper than you are in this zombie state.”

Jenna wanted to argue, to insist that she could push through, but her body had made the decision for her. She felt hollowed out, just a shell running on fumes.

“Fine,” she hissed, the word barely audible.

Jake gathered their barely-touched food and disposed of it, then guided her out to the car.

The evening air felt cool against her feverish skin as they walked across the parking lot.

The rising moon caught her attention briefly—full and bright, watching over the town like a cold, impartial witness.

Just like in Harrow’s paintings. Just like in her dreams.

They drove in silence, Jenna too exhausted to continue their argument. When they reached her house, Jake pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. “I’ll call you if anything breaks,” he promised. “Try to actually sleep, okay?”

Jenna nodded, not trusting herself to speak without saying something she’d regret. She fumbled with the door handle, her coordination shot, and made her way up the walk to her front door. She didn’t look back to see if Jake was watching her go.

Inside, she didn’t bother turning on lights, didn’t even consider changing clothes or washing her face.

Her bedroom beckoned, and she stumbled toward it on legs that felt increasingly disconnected from her body.

She collapsed onto her bed, then surrendered completely to the darkness that had been threatening to engulf her for hours.

Sleep pulled Jenna down like a stone sinking in dark water.

Yet consciousness didn’t fade completely.

Instead, it shifted, sharpened in that familiar way that signaled a lucid dream beginning.

The darkness behind her eyelids gave way to moonlight filtering through branches, and suddenly she was standing in a small forest clearing, fully aware that she was dreaming, yet too weak to control what unfolded before her.

The September full moon hung overhead, impossibly large and luminous, bathing the clearing in silver light.

At her feet lay a checkered blanket spread across the forest floor, its corners weighed down with small stones.

The remnants of a picnic were scattered across it—half-empty wine glasses, a wicker basket, plates with the crumbs of some long-ago meal.

Everything looked abandoned, as if the participants had fled in haste.

Then Jenna felt a chill prickling her skin as an unseen presence made itself known.

“This is where it started,” a woman’s voice said from behind her. “This is where it’s going to end. Unless you can stop it from happening.”

Jenna turned slowly. The woman from last night’s dream stood at the edge of the clearing, her form more substantial now.

In the moonlight, Jenna could make out her features—delicate, sad eyes in a face framed by dark hair.

She wore a light summer dress that seemed to float around her, though there was no breeze.

“I know who you are,” Jenna said, the name coming to her with certainty. “Lina. Elias Harrow’s wife.”

“He’s in terrible danger,” the woman replied.

“Who is? Elias?” Jenna asked, stepping closer.

Lina didn’t answer directly, her gaze shifting to the abandoned picnic. “Do you know where we are?” she asked.

Jenna looked around the moonlit clearing, trying to place it in her waking knowledge of Trentville and its surroundings. Then Eric’s words from earlier that day echoed in her mind: “The three of us were having a picnic. It was a great day—or so we thought. But that was the very night when...”

“This is where you, Elias, and Eric had your last picnic together,” Jenna said slowly. “The night you died.”

“The last night,” Lina confirmed. “Something happened here that changed everything.”

“What happened?” Jenna asked. “What happened that night, Lina?”

Lina moved toward the blanket, kneeling beside it. “They turned against each other—Elias and Eric. Love turned them against each other.”

“You mean they fought about you,” Jenna said, understanding dawning. “You and Eric were having an affair.”

“Yes,” Lina admitted, her voice hollow with old grief. “For months. I thought I loved Eric. I thought he loved me. But that night, Elias confronted us both. The things he said... the things Eric said in return...”

She looked up at Jenna, her eyes now intense with urgency. “It can only end in death. Unless you can stop it.”

Before Jenna could ask what she meant, the clearing around them dissolved like mist. The moonlight vanished, plunging them into complete darkness. For a moment, Jenna felt disoriented, lost in the void.

Then a small flame appeared, illuminating Lina’s face from below. She was holding a candle, its light revealing rough stone walls around them. They were standing in a narrow tunnel, the ceiling low enough that Jenna could touch it by reaching up.

“Where are we?” Jenna asked, her voice echoing slightly in the confined space.

Lina said nothing, just kept moving the candle to illuminate more of their surroundings. The tunnel stretched ahead of them, disappearing into darkness beyond the candle’s reach. The air was cool and damp, heavy with the scent of earth.

“Where does this tunnel lead?” Jenna asked, feeling a strange unease. The place felt important, though she couldn’t say why.

“It once led to freedom,” Lina said cryptically. “But now it leads to death. Unless you can stop it from happening.”

She turned and began walking away, the light from her candle creating dancing shadows on the tunnel walls.

“Wait,” Jenna called. “What do you mean? Who’s going to die?”

Lina didn’t turn back. Her form was growing more transparent with each step she took, the light from her candle dimming.

“Lina!” Jenna called again, more urgently. “Please! Tell me what’s happening!”

But Lina had already disappeared into the darkness, taking the light with her. Jenna was left alone in the blackness.

“Lina!” she shouted one last time, her voice bouncing back at her from the unseen walls.

Jenna’s eyes snapped open, her heart pounding. She was back in her bedroom, the sheets tangled around her still-clothed body. The dream clung to her consciousness, more vivid than reality, its urgency humming through her veins.

She sat up, the room spinning briefly around her. She saw from the digital clock on her nightstand that she’d been asleep for less than two hours, but her mind felt unusually clear, as if the dream had cut through the fog of her exhaustion.

The love triangle. The confrontation at the picnic. Elias discovering his wife’s affair with his friend. The pieces were falling into place, forming a picture she should have seen sooner.

Eric had never mentioned that he and Lina were lovers. He’d spoken of their friendship, of Elias withdrawing after Lina’s death, but never of the betrayal that preceded it all. Never spoke of any reason the two men had to hate each other.

Her hands trembled slightly as the realization solidified. Lina’s warning rang in her ears: “It can only end in death. Unless you can stop it.”