Page 9 of In Her Fears (Jenna Graves #8)

“I can spare fifteen minutes, Mr. Pierce,” Jenna told the reporter, keeping her voice neutral. “Though I’m not sure what I can tell you that wouldn’t be in the FBI’s official statement.”

Masking her unease with a smile, she gestured toward her office. She’d faced down armed suspects with less trepidation than she felt leading this polished journalist into her private space, where he would undoubtedly continue digging for answers she couldn’t provide.

Ethan Pierce followed her with the confident stride of a man accustomed to getting his way. “Sometimes the most interesting details are the ones that don’t make it into official statements.”

Her office was small but orderly—desk cleared of all but essential paperwork, filing cabinets neatly labeled, a single potted plant by the window that Jake had given her. But the space felt suddenly cramped with the reporter’s presence.

“Have a seat,” she said, settling into her chair and gesturing to the one across from her desk. “You mentioned the FBI’s Harvesters case?”

Pierce placed his recorder on her desk, its small red light blinking. “Like I said, I’m working on a feature about the takedown of the trafficking ring. I’ve already spoken with Special Agent Cody and Chief Morgan from Pinecrest.”

“Then you’re already well-informed,” Jenna replied carefully.

The reporter leaned forward slightly. “I know the broad strokes. The FBI coordinated arrests across five states. Thirty-two suspects in custody. Evidence of at least seventeen victims over the past three years.”

“That sounds comprehensive.”

“Except for one detail that nobody seems able to explain,” Pierce said, his smile never wavering. “How exactly did you know where to find those two women in the abandoned Trentville Coal Mine?”

Jenna had prepared for this question. She’d known it would come eventually. “Law enforcement work is often a combination of luck, intuition, and diligent investigation, Mr. Pierce. The mine was just one of several locations we were checking out in connection with … other issues.”

“But why there, specifically? Pierce continued, watching her face closely. “Several of my sources have mentioned your unusual knack for solving difficult cases. Cases with few leads. Cases where evidence was minimal or misleading.”

“Good police work often looks like magic to outsiders.” Jenna reached for her coffee mug, buying time with a slow sip of the lukewarm liquid. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Is that all it is? Good police work?” His voice dropped slightly, became more intimate. “Sheriff Graves, off the record, I’ve heard some... unusual theories about your investigative success.”

The coffee turned bitter on her tongue. “Such as?”

“Some say you have confidential informants you protect at all costs. Others suggest you have some sort of intuitive gift that borders on the paranormal.” Pierce leaned closer, lowering his voice further. “Are you psychic, Sheriff Graves?”

Jenna set her mug down carefully, fighting to keep her expression neutral.

“That’s quite a leap,’” she said, injecting a note of amusement she didn’t feel. “I’m a sheriff, not a fortune teller.”

“And yet the results speak for themselves,” Pierce pressed. “Cases solved against impossible odds. Victims found in locations no one else thought to look. Evidence discovered that others missed.”

“Mr. Pierce—”

“I’m not here to expose you or ridicule you,” he said quickly. “I’m genuinely curious. If there’s something to this—some ability you have that helps you save lives—isn’t that a story worth telling?”

“I think you’ve misunderstood the nature of investigative work,” she said, her voice cooler now. “It’s methodical. It’s tedious. It’s following leads and connecting dots that others might miss. There’s nothing supernatural about it.”

Pierce studied her face for a long moment, then sighed. “I was hoping for more candor, Sheriff.”

Jenna realized it was time to bring this interview to a close. But the door to her office opened before she could respond. Jake stood in the threshold, his expression serious.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, glancing between them. “Sheriff, we just got a call that needs immediate attention.”

Jenna had never been so grateful for an interruption. “I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this short, Mr. Pierce.”

The reporter looked frustrated but gathered his recorder. “Perhaps we could schedule a follow-up interview? There’s still a lot I’d like to discuss.”

“I’ve told you everything I have to say on the matter,” Jenna replied, standing. “The FBI has closed the Harvesters case, and they have all the relevant information for your article.”

“And yet the most interesting part of the story remains untold,” Pierce said, rising to his feet. “How the sheriff of a small county managed to uncover evidence that helped the FBI crack a case that had stumped them for years.”

“Sometimes stories don’t have neat explanations,” Jenna said, moving toward the door. “Thank you for your time.”

Pierce paused at the threshold, his gaze unexpectedly sympathetic. “For what it’s worth, Sheriff, I think you’re doing remarkable work—however you’re managing it. I just hope someday you’ll trust the public enough to tell them the truth.”

With that, he walked out, leaving Jenna and Jake alone in the suddenly quiet office.

Jake closed the door behind the reporter. “You okay? Looked like he was giving you the third degree.”

“He wanted to know how we found Ginger and Jill in the mine,” Jenna said, rubbing her temples. “Asked if I was psychic.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s... direct.”

“Too direct.” Jenna sighed, then focused on Jake’s earlier interruption. “What’s the call?”

Jake’s expression turned somber. “It’s Chloe Bennett. She says her roommate Alexis Downey didn’t come home last night. She’s pretty upset.”

Alexis—the cheerful server from the Sunflower Café who always remembered that Jake liked extra cream in his coffee and that Jenna took hers black.

“How long has she been missing?”

“Since last night, apparently. Chloe thought she was staying with her boyfriend, but when she called him this morning, he said Alexis never showed up.”

Jenna grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. “Let’s go.”

As they headed for the door, Jenna couldn’t help wondering if her dream and Alexis’s disappearance were connected—a feeling that turned her blood cold.

The cruiser’s engine rumbled to life as Jenna pulled out of the station parking lot.

Morning sunlight glinted off storefronts along Main Street, the ordinary rhythm of Trentville continuing around them—shopkeepers sweeping sidewalks, early customers lining up at the bakery, an elderly man walking his terrier.

“It’s probably nothing serious,” Jake said, breaking the silence. “Alexis could have crashed at a friend’s place, turned her phone off.”

Jenna made the turn onto Maple Road. “I hope you’re right.”

“But you don’t think I am,” Jake observed, studying her profile.

“No,” she admitted. “I have a bad feeling about this one.”

Jake shifted in his seat. “Want to tell me why? Is this just a gut feeling, or is there something else?”

Jenna hesitated, then made a decision. “I had a dream last night. One of those dreams.”

“A visitation?” Jake’s voice dropped lower, though they were alone in the car. “Who came to you?”

“A woman I didn’t recognize. Middle-aged, artist type. We were in some kind of studio filled with blank canvases.” Jenna maneuvered around a delivery truck double-parked in front of the hardware store. “She was distraught, kept saying something was her fault.”

“Did she mention Alexis?”

“No. Nothing specific at all. Just that ‘it’ was going to happen again, and it was her fault.” Jenna’s stomach twisted at the memory. “Then there was blood everywhere, spraying across all the blank canvases.”

Jake inhaled sharply. “Wow.”

“Before the dream ended, she said, ‘Find him, before he makes another masterpiece.’”

“And you think this is connected to Alexis somehow?”

Jenna turned onto Cedar Lane, where well-kept bungalows lined both sides of the street. “The timing... it feels significant. And I can’t help thinking about Martin Holbrook staked to a tree with a pentagram carved above him. That was theatrical, staged—perhaps a ‘masterpiece’ in someone’s view.”

A silence fell between them before Jake spoke again.

“How have you been sleeping the last few days?”

“Not well,” she said. Then, trying to make light of the issue, she added, “Does it show?”

“You look tired. And I worry.”

Jenna pulled to the curb in front of a modest two-story house with blue shutters.

She and Jake walked up the short path to the front door.

Before Jenna could knock, it swung open to reveal a young woman with a worried expression.

She wore hospital scrubs, clearly interrupted in the middle of preparing for work.

Relief flooded her features as she recognized them.

“Sheriff Graves? Thank you for coming so quickly. I’m Chloe Bennett.”

“Of course,” Jenna said, stepping inside as Chloe moved back. “This is Deputy Hawkins. We want to hear everything you can tell us about when you last saw Alexis.”

The living room was modestly furnished but tidy—a secondhand couch with throw pillows, bookshelves filled with paperbacks and framed photos, a small TV in the corner. A nurse’s textbook lay open on the coffee table next to a half-empty mug of coffee.

“I should have called sooner,” Chloe said, wringing her hands. “I just kept thinking she must be with Ryan, but then when I called him...”

“Start from the beginning,” Jenna said gently. “When did you last see Alexis?”

Chloe took a steadying breath. “Last night. We were in the back yard with our telescope—Galileo, we call it. It was such a beautiful full moon. I was tired from my shift, so I went to bed around ten. Alexis stayed outside; she said she was going to look a bit longer, then maybe head over to Ryan’s.

He was playing a gig at the Centaur’s Den. ”

“And that wasn’t unusual? Her going to Ryan’s after his shows?”

“Not at all. They’re really serious—she stays at his place most nights now. She’s planning to move in with him at the end of the month.”

Jake made notes as Chloe spoke. “What time did you realize something was wrong?”

“This morning, around six. I got up for my shift and noticed her car was still in the driveway.” Chloe gestured toward the window. “At first I thought maybe they’d taken Ryan’s car, but then I saw her purse and phone still on the table by the back door.”

“And you called Ryan?”

“Yes. He said Alexis never showed up last night. He’d texted her a few times during his break, but when she didn’t respond, he figured she’d decided to stay home.

” Chloe’s voice cracked slightly. “That’s when I knew something was wrong.

Alexis wouldn’t just leave her phone. And she always lets Ryan know if she changes plans.

I’ve been calling our friends ever since, but nobody seems to have seen her. ”

“May we see the backyard?” Jenna asked.

Chloe led them through the kitchen to a back door that opened onto a modest yard enclosed by a wooden fence. In the center of the patchy grass stood a telescope on a tripod, its lens still aimed at where the moon would have been visible the night before.

“This is exactly how it was when I came out this morning,” Chloe said. “Alexis would never leave Galileo out overnight. She’s always super careful with it—covers it, brings it inside, everything.”

Jenna approached the telescope, noting two empty beer bottles on a small table nearby. She felt a chill as she remembered the full moon from her dream—the silver light illuminating the blank canvases. The full moon was an undeniable connection.

“Was the back gate locked last night?” Jake asked, moving toward wooden gate at the rear of the yard.

“No, we never lock it,” Chloe admitted. “There’s just an alley behind us, and then another row of houses. The neighborhood has always been safe.”

Jake examined the gate, which swung open easily at his touch. “No signs of forced entry. No damage to the fence.”

Jenna scanned the yard, looking for any sign of struggle or disturbance. No obvious blood or drag marks. Just an abandoned telescope pointing at the sky and two empty beer bottles.

“Chloe, did Alexis mention hearing anything while you were out here? Seeing anyone unusual?” Jenna asked.

“No, nothing.” Chloe shook her head. “It was just a normal night. We were talking about her moving in with Ryan, looking at the moon... everything was fine.”

Jenna paced slowly around the yard, her trained eye catching nothing out of place beyond the telescope left out overnight. And yet her instincts screamed that something terrible had happened here.