Page 15

As dusk settled over Sablewood Reservoir, Jenna watched the patrol cars file in, their red and blue lights cutting through the gathering dark, adding to the sea of vehicles parked haphazardly along the water’s edge. The air was charged with electricity, not the kind that sparked from high-voltage bulbs, but the kind born from anticipation and dread. Soon, glaring white lights mounted on tripods cast an eerie glow over the scene, turning night into artificial day.

Melissa Stark and her coroner’s team stood at the ready, their equipment arranged methodically by the shore. The body that had recently been drawn from the water was enclosed in a cadaver bag for closer examination later. Now they stood waiting to see if there would be another for them to process that very night. Jenna joined them, and Jake, his presence a steady comfort, came to stand close beside her.

Jenna heard an occasional mutter from those who hurried past to get on with the job of dragging the reservoir: “Two found here already? Going how many years back?” They were well aware of what another body would signify – not just another victim, but a consistent dreadful pattern emerging from the depths of the reservoir. Jenna scanned the assembled team, their faces drawn with grim determination.

The arrival of Colonel Spelling, a silhouette against the glare of the floodlights, marked an escalation in the operation. He approached Jenna with a nod of unspoken understanding. Jenna returned the gesture, her mind already churning with plans and contingencies.

“Somewhere near there,” Jenna said softly, pointing past the willows whose branches wept into the water. “That is our best bet.”

The area had become an ominous landmark, the last resting place for souls lost and found in these murky waters. Jenna’s intuition, that uncanny feeling that had guided her so many times before, guided her now. She couldn’t shake the sense that just beyond those willow trees lay answers to questions she’d been asking.

Jake followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the area. “It makes sense,” he murmured. “That’s the deepest part, and it’s near where the others were found.” Jenna nodded, grateful for the validation. In this line of work, trust in one’s instincts could mean the difference between life and death, closure and eternal mystery.

Colonel Spelling followed her gesture. His countenance was hardened, chiseled from years of service and countless operations just like this one. “Agreed,” he responded, his voice carrying the weight of command. “We’ll start with a grid search pattern, working our way out from the willows.” His team members nodded, understanding the plan without need for further explanation.

As Jenna discussed the technicalities of the search with Spelling, she could feel the ripple of activity around them intensify. She noted the methodical nature of the preparations, each person playing their part in the search operation.

Divers, clad in black neoprene, moved with a focused urgency as they donned their wetsuits. They checked their oxygen tanks, regulators, and fins with a disciplined thoroughness that spoke of experience and the gravity of what lay ahead. Jenna watched as they tested their underwater torches, beams of light slicing through the darkness and reflecting off the rippling surface of the reservoir.

Nearby, other members of the team prepared the sonar devices, ensuring the technology was calibrated correctly. These machines would peer into the depths with sound waves, searching for anomalies that might indicate another grim discovery. Grappling hooks, which had already proven their worth earlier in the day, were readied once more, glinting ominously under the floodlights.

Jenna felt the tension in the air thicken, a tangible mix of determination to find the truth and apprehension of what that truth might be. Each member of the team understood the stakes; everybody recovered was someone’s loved one, a life cut short, a story ended abruptly and violently. And tonight, there was the possibility of adding another chapter to this dark narrative unfolding in Genesius County.

The hum of the motor stilled as the final adjustments were made, the first boat’s hull meeting the water’s edge with a gentle lapping sound. Jenna’s gaze lingered on silhouette of the tree line against the night sky when the crunching of gravel under heavy tires broke her focus. Headlights flashed across the scene, the bright beams momentarily blinding before they dimmed to reveal a sleek town car idling at the periphery.

Jenna’s heart dropped when she spotted that particular car. Mayor Claire Simmons’ vehicle heralded complication and confrontation. Jenna had deliberately circumvented the mayor, knowing all too well how her presence could mire their efforts in red tape and political posturing. The operation was delicate enough without having to navigate the choppy waters of Claire Simmons’ agenda.

As the car door opened, the mayor stepped out, her form emerging like an avenging apparition summoned by the glow of the floodlights. With every click of her heels, the distance between them closed, the sound sharp and accusatory in the stillness of the reservoir’s edge.

Mayor Simmons’ stride toward Jenna was measured and purposeful, each step a clear demonstration of her authority and indignation. Fury simmered beneath her composed facade, barely contained behind the practiced mask she wore. It was a look Jenna had come to know—veiled rage polished with the sheen of decorum.

Jenna was rooted to the spot, her breath condensing in the cool air as she braced for the inevitable onslaught. She knew the mayor valued order and control above all else, and Jenna’s unilateral decision to proceed with the search had effectively snatched both from Simmons’ grasp.

As Sheriff of Genesius County, Jenna had autonomy, but the mayor’s longtime local connections spread her power beyond the county seat of Trentville. Jenna understood that the mayor’s cooperation, however begrudging, was essential to getting important things done. Yet, Jenna’s responsibility was to serve and protect, not to cower before political might.

The mayor was now mere feet away, her manicured nails gripping a designer bag with deceptive calmness. She halted, her sharp gaze locked onto Jenna’s, searching, assessing. The unspoken threat of political retribution hung heavy between them, a sword of Damocles poised over Jenna’s head, ready to fall. Jenna squared her shoulders, mentally preparing for the storm about to break.

“Mayor Simmons,” Jenna acknowledged evenly as the woman bore down on her like a gale force wind. “I apologize for the oversight. We had to act quickly based on new information—”

The mayor’s hand shot up, slicing through the cool air with authority. “New information? And what might that be? Another one of your hunches?” There was a withering scorn in her tone, an all too familiar challenge to Jenna’s methods.

Jenna held the mayor’s steely gaze, her own eyes betraying none of the turmoil that churned within her. “We’ve recovered another body from the reservoir,” she stated, the gravity of the situation grounding her voice in somber reality. “And there’s reason to believe we may find a third.”

“Three?” the mayor snapped. Her eyes narrowed, searching Jenna’s face for any hint of doubt, any crack in the facade that she could leverage.

“Potentially,” Jenna confirmed.

“Three suicides?” Claire Simmons’ voice held a touch of fear that cracked her usual composed facade.

“Three murders,” Jenna corrected without hesitation.

The tension was palpable, an electric charge that seemed to spark off the surface of Sablewood Reservoir. The floodlights cast a harsh glare on the scene, blotting out the stars with their artificial day. Jenna could feel every eye on her, on them, as the stand-off continued.

Then Colonel Chadwick “Chad” Spelling, in his pristine uniform, stepped decisively forward. “Mayor, I authorized this operation,” pronounced Colonel Spelling with a voice that brooked no argument. “And this reservoir is my jurisdiction, not yours.”

Jenna exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the chill night air, grateful for Spelling’s involvement. She sensed, rather than saw, the ripple of relief that moved through the gathered law enforcement personnel. Her own eyes now reflected a depth of gratitude. Despite her authority as Sheriff, it felt oddly comforting to have the weight of the Colonel’s rank behind her.

Simmons’ response was instantaneous. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, darted between Spelling and Jenna, assessing, judging. The mayor’s manicured nails seemed to tap an impatient rhythm against the fabric of her sleeve.

“And the potential media circus this could create? The panic it could incite in our community? Did either of you consider that?” The words were precise, a calculated strike meant to undermine and reclaim control. “You couldn’t have waited? Giving me time to prepare a statement?”

Jenna took in a deep breath, letting it fuel her resolve. She steeled herself, turning to face Simmons squarely. “A killer has gotten away with his crimes long enough, we can’t waste any more time. Once the word is out that we’ve found these bodies, the culprit is likely to vanish forever. I don’t think you’d like how the media would deal with a case that goes cold once and for all. We’ve got to catch the killer, and it’s now or never.”

The mayor crossed her arms and said, “Be that as it may, I’m not happy with how you’re handling this, Sheriff.”

In that moment, Jenna felt her supernatural intuition mingling with years of law enforcement instincts. The stakes were higher than any PR concerns or political maneuvering. Lives had been lost, victims submerged beneath the dark waters, waiting for justice.

When the mayor continued to glare at her in silence, Jenna said, her voice resonant with the authority of her office and the urgency of their mission. “With all due respect, Mayor, my job isn’t to keep you happy. Our primary concern is finding the truth and potentially solving multiple homicides. The community’s safety comes first. And not letting a killer go free, possibly to kill again—if not right here, then somewhere else.”

Tension crackled in the air, the kind you could almost hear over the hum of the floodlights and the murmur of officers preparing their gear. Jenna stood her ground, watching Mayor Simmons with a steadiness that belied the turmoil within. The mayor’s eyes, usually so sharp and commanding, wavered; her shoulders, always squared with authority, dipped ever so slightly.

“Very well,” Mayor Simmons conceded, her voice tight, betraying the strain of the moment. “But I want to be kept in the loop from now on. Is that clear?” The demand was less an assertion of power than a grudging acceptance of the situation.

Jenna nodded once, decisively. “Crystal clear, Mayor.” There was no gloating in her victory, just the quiet satisfaction that they could proceed without further hindrance. She watched as Mayor Simmons turned away, leaving Jenna to get back to the task.

“Thanks for backing me up, Colonel,” Jenna said to Spelling.

“Let’s hope this search bears fruit,” Spelling said. “Otherwise, we could both wind up with mud on our faces.”

Jenna turned back to the reservoir, its waters dark and still, holding secrets beneath its surface. She felt a familiar pull, the weight of unseen currents drawing her thoughts to Piper, her missing twin. But she pushed aside personal ghosts; tonight was about seeking justice for others, not for herself.

The night air carried a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. As Mayor Simmons departed, Jake materialized beside Jenna, his presence a sudden warmth at her side.

“That could have gone worse,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear. His gaze flickered to her, a silent question hovering in the space between them.

Jenna allowed herself a brief smile, wry and edged with fatigue. “The night’s still young. Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

They moved together toward the water’s edge, where the search team was assembling. The divers, suited in black neoprene, looked like phantoms ready to descend into the abyss. Jenna’s eyes traced the outline of the willows, branches swaying gently in the night breeze like mournful sentinels.

Jake’s presence was a reminder of what grounded her—partnership, shared resolve, the unspoken understanding that stretched beyond the boundaries of duty. Jenna took a steadying breath, feeling the pull of the water, of the mysteries it held. Somewhere down there lay another piece of a puzzle that spanned years and lives and losses. It was time to bring it up into the light.

For a time there was only the droning of the boats broken only by the occasional bark of orders from the team leaders. Jenna stood on the shore, patiently waiting as Jake stood silently at her side. Then a shout shattered the night’s silence.

“Over here! There’s something!”