Page 27 of In Her Fears (Jenna Graves #8)

The antiseptic smell of the hospital corridor made Jenna’s stomach clench as she walked toward Jake’s room. She paused, gathering herself before entering, willing her face to show relief rather than the fears that had gripped her for the past twenty-four hours.

Jake looked up as she entered, his eyes brightening despite the pallor of his face. He was hooked to an IV, and the thin hospital gown made him seem smaller somehow, vulnerable.

“There she is,” he said, his voice stronger than she’d expected.

Jenna pulled a chair closer to his bed, the metal legs scraping against the floor. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been stabbed,” Jake replied with a weak smile. “But the doctor says I’m lucky. The blade missed everything important. I’ll be back to annoying you in no time.”

As he reached for her hand, he asked, “How’s your wound?”

“It’s just a scratch, hardly worth the bandage they put on it.”

They were both quiet for a long moment. Then Jake broke the silence by asking, “And Elias?”

“He’s okay. Physically, at least.” Jenna replied quickly. “Eric confessed to everything, Jake. Not just the recent murders, but Lina’s too.”

Jake’s eyebrows rose. “Lina? But I thought—”

“We all thought she committed suicide. That’s what Eric wanted everyone to believe. But that night, after Elias confronted them about the affair and stormed off, Eric went to the house through that underground tunnel to convince Lina to run away with him.”

She paused, the horror of Eric’s confession still fresh in her mind. “When she refused, he killed her. Slashed her wrists while she was already intoxicated with pills and alcohol, making it look like suicide.”

“My God,” Jake whispered. “All these years, Elias believed he drove her to it.”

“Exactly. And that guilt triggered his Chronic Traumatic Insomnia. But Eric didn’t go unmarked by what he had done. Over the years, he descended into madness, less visible than Elias’ obvious trauma and deadly rather than debilitating.”

A small, surprised smile touched Jenna’s lips. “But now that Elias knows he wasn’t responsible for Lina’s death, it’s like a weight has been lifted. He’s already talking about returning to the world, maybe even painting again—landscapes this time, not death scenes.”

“Amazing what the truth can do,” Jake murmured.

“The truth.” Jenna repeated, looking down at their still-joined hands, his larger one enclosing hers.

“I was scared, Jake,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “When I saw you wounded... I couldn’t breathe.”

His expression softened. “I’m still here, Jenna.”

“I know. But it made me realize something.” She hesitated, twisting a loose thread on her sleeve. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Not just as my deputy, but... as you.”

Jake’s eyes held hers, warm and steady. “I’ve felt that way about you for a long time.” After a moment he added, “So what does this mean? For us?”

“I don’t know. What we have professionally works so well. I’d hate to jeopardize that.”

“But pretending these feelings don’t exist isn’t working either.”

“Maybe we don’t need to figure it all out right now,” she suggested. “We just need to be honest about everything we feel and go with whatever follows.”

“I can live with that,” Jake said, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand.

Jenna stood, reluctant to leave but aware that he needed rest. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, lingering for just a moment.

“Get some sleep,” she whispered. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

***

Sleep claimed Jenna with unusual ease that night, her body surrendering to her exhaustion.

As consciousness slipped away, she felt the familiar shift—that moment when the dream world crystallized around her and she knew herself to be both asleep and aware.

Colors deepened, edges sharpened, and suddenly she stood in the strange wilderness of blank canvases that had formed the backdrop of her previous encounter with Lina Harrow.

This time the canvases were pristine and unmarked, as if awaiting a fresh start.

“You came back.” The voice floated to her, soft but distinct.

Jenna turned to find Lina standing a few feet away, her form more substantial than before.

In the moonlight, she looked almost alive, her dark hair framing a face no longer etched with sadness.

She wore the same summer dress as in the previous dreams, but it seemed to glow now, luminous against the shadows surrounding them.

“I didn’t exactly plan it,” Jenna replied.

Lina smiled, the expression transforming her face. “Some connections transcend intention, Sheriff. I needed to see you one last time.”

“Last time?” Jenna asked, stepping closer.

“My purpose here is fulfilled.” Lina gestured to the blank canvases around them. “Thanks to you, Elias knows the truth now. He’s free of the guilt that’s been poisoning him for so long.”

“It must have been terrible for you, watching Elias suffer all this time, believing he’d driven you to suicide.”

“Death isn’t what people think,” Lina replied, her voice distant yet intimate. “We don’t simply vanish. But we can’t always communicate what we need to. That’s why your gift is so precious, Jenna. You bridge worlds.”

A canvas nearby began to fill with color—a peaceful landscape of rolling hills beneath a clear blue sky. Another followed, then another, scenes of beauty replacing the emptiness.

“Elias will paint like this again,” Lina said, watching the images form. “Not scenes of horror, but beauty. He’ll sleep again, too—perhaps not perfectly at first, but the inability to sleep will loosen its grip now that the truth has been revealed.”

“And what about you? Where will you go now?”

“Where all spirits eventually go,” Lina replied cryptically. “But I came to tell you something else.” She moved closer, her presence bringing a gentle warmth to the dream-cold air. “Your insomnia is over too, Jenna. You’ll sleep deeply, comfortably now.”

Lina began to fade then, her form growing transparent. “Thank you, Jenna Graves. For bringing truth to light. For saving Elias when I couldn’t.”

“Wait—” Jenna reached out, but her hand passed through Lina’s dissolving form.

“Someone else needs to speak with you,” Lina’s voice echoed as she disappeared completely. “Someone you’ve been waiting for.”

The landscape shifted, the canvases receding into shadows. For a moment, Jenna stood alone in darkness, the dream threatening to slip away. Then a new presence materialized a few yards ahead—a young woman with hollowed cheeks and haunted eyes that Jenna immediately recognized.

“Patricia,” she breathed, hope surging through her. “Patricia Gaines.”

The spectral figure nodded, her form more defined than during their last encounter months ago.

Patricia Gaines had been a mysterious presence in her dreams back then.

Upon awakening, Jenna had managed to learn that she was a teenager who had disappeared on August 5, 2010.

And because Jenna had spoken to her in a dream, Jenna knew that she had to be dead.

Before she had disappeared from Jenna’s dream world, Patricia had seemed on the verge of telling Jenna something about what had happened to Piper. And now here she was again.

Patricia beckoned, turning toward a path that hadn’t been there seconds before.

“Do you know where Piper is?” Jenna asked, hurrying to follow as Patricia began ascending a slope that materialized beneath their feet. “Please, if you know anything about my sister—”

Patricia didn’t speak, just continued climbing. The dreamscape shifted around them, blank space giving way to rocky terrain and sparse vegetation. At last, they reached the summit of the hill. Patricia stopped, pointing to the vista that spread before them.

In the distance, nestled between gently rolling hills, stood a small farmhouse.

Its white clapboard walls gleamed in dream-sunlight, the red roof vivid against the surrounding greenery.

A barn stood nearby, weathered and gray.

In the fields surrounding the buildings, three figures moved—tiny from this distance, but clearly they were working the land.

“What is this place?” Jenna asked, shielding her eyes against the sudden brightness. “Where are we?”

Patricia spoke for the first time. “Last place I saw her.”

Jenna’s heart seemed to stop. “Piper? You saw my sister there?”

Patricia nodded, still pointing toward the distant farm. “Working the fields. Just like them.” She gestured to the small figures visible from their vantage point.

“When? How long ago?” Jenna asked urgently, straining to see more detail in the distant scene. “Is this a real place? Where is it located?”

But Patricia was already fading, her form dissolving into the dream-light like morning mist. “Find the scarecrow,” she whispered as she disappeared. “By the crossroads.”

“Patricia!” Jenna called, desperation edging her voice. “Please, I need more! What crossroads? Where should I look?”

The hillside began to dissolve beneath her feet, the farmhouse blurring like a watercolor painting left in the rain. Jenna reached out, trying to hold onto the vision, but the dream was slipping away, reality pulling her back.

“No,” she protested, “not yet—”

Jenna’s eyes snapped open to her darkened bedroom. She sat up, the sheet falling away as she reached for the notepad she kept by her bed. Fumbling with the pen, she scribbled frantically: “Farmhouse. Red roof. White walls. Barn. Scarecrow at crossroads.”

After twenty years of searching, she finally had a lead—tenuous and dream-born, but more concrete than anything she’d had before.