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Jenna was about to thank Tommy Larson for his help and head back to her car. She and Jake needed to confront Carl Reeves, but Tommy sat back down at his kitchen table and gestured to the other chairs clustered around it. The expression on his face was thoughtful.

“You know, it’s strange,” he murmured.

Jenna turned back to hear what Tommy was trying to say.

“How things change,” he mused, almost as if to himself.

“Indeed, it can be,” Jenna replied. Wanting to know what else Tommy could tell them, Jenna sat down in one of the chairs he offered and Jake took another.

Betty Larson still stood by the kitchen counter, watching them, looking like she didn’t know what to do. Then she started collecting mugs to bring them coffee.

Jenna leaned in slightly, elbows on the scarred table, allowing herself a closer look at the man who seemed to have more to tell them. She noted the slight tremble in Tommy’s hands as he set down his coffee mug. The deep lines in his palms spoke of hard labor, each one a testament to years spent working the land. But it was his eyes that captured her attention; his focus on old memories seemed to be casting shadows there.

Without a word, Betty Larson set down mugs of steaming coffee in front of Jenna and Jake, then she placed cream and sugar within reach. They both thanked her, and she retreated silently, again watching from across the room.

“Carl always had a way about him,” Tommy said. “Loyal, you know? To Mike, Clive, and Jimmy. It was like they all shared their own language.” He seemed to hesitate, then continued. “They were inseparable since grade school—always up to some mischief or another. Then, all of a sudden, Carl just stopped showing up. One day he’s with them, the next, he’s busy elsewhere.”

“Do you remember when this happened?” Jenna prompted gently, encouraging him to continue.

“Must’ve been when they were about 14 or 15,” Tommy answered. “After that, Carl became a different kid altogether.” He paused, taking a comfort sip from the coffee that seemed less about thirst and more about buying time, perhaps to sort through the cobwebs of old gossip and half-forgotten confrontations.

“Do you know what caused the falling out?” Jake asked.

Tommy shook his head slowly, his gaze fixed on a knot in the wood grain of the table as if it might yield answers. “That’s the thing. Nobody really knew. There were rumors, of course. Small town and all.”

“Rumors,” Jenna repeated quietly. In places like these small towns of Genesius County, whispers could be both currency and condemnation. She watched Tommy closely, waiting for him to continue.

When he took another swallow of coffee, his hands wrapped around the mug conveyed a man accustomed to hard work, not the unraveling of teenage mysteries. “Some said there was a fight, others thought Carl had gotten into trouble and the others abandoned him. But the truth?” Tommy shrugged. “It was like a wall of silence came down. Whatever it was, none of them would talk about it. Not even Mike.”

“And Carl?” Jake prompted, looking up from his notebook.

“Carl just... withdrew. Stopped hanging around town much. When he did show up, he’d avoid the others. It was almost like he was scared of something.”

“Scared?” Jenna prompted.

“I thought he looked like he was haunted,” Tommy added. “You’d see him sometimes, avoiding them whenever he saw them. Always looked over his shoulder, like he was expecting someone to jump out at him.”

Jenna absorbed the image Tommy painted. This behavior didn’t fit the profile of someone merely keeping old acquaintances at arm’s length; it reeked of dread and desperation.

“From that time on, it was just the three of them—Mike, Clive, and Jimmy.”

“And they never told you what happened?” Jake asked.

“No, I was never part of that gang. I was just a pesky kid as far as they were concerned, they didn’t want me around.”

“Interesting,” she murmured, filing away each detail with meticulous care. Fear could be a powerful motivator, and whatever had driven Carl into such isolation was likely a vital clue. What force could have been significant enough to sever ties so completely?

As Tommy’s account dwindled into silence, Jenna caught Jake’s eye. In that brief exchange, a silent conversation passed between them—recognition of an unexpected turn in their case.

“Thank you, Tommy,” Jenna said, her gratitude genuine. “You’ve given us quite a bit to consider. Now we need to be on our way.”

Across the table, Jake nodded in agreement.

Jenna rose from the kitchen chair, feeling Tommy Larson’s gaze follow her movements as she and Jake prepared to leave.

“Before you go, Sheriff,” Tommy said, his voice holding her in place. “Just one more thing. You came here asking about Jimmy. But how did you know about him? Who told you that name?”

She sensed something stirring in him beyond ordinary curiosity. She didn’t suppose she should be surprised. Her mention out of the blue of a certain ‘Jimmy’ whose last name she didn’t even know must have struck him as strange. Of course, that was the kind of source that Jenna couldn’t reveal – not the whispers from her dreams or murmurs from beyond reality that guided her actions.

“We are following several leads in our investigation,” Jenna responded, filling each word with authority born from years of experience in office. “I’m afraid I can’t disclose more at this time.”

Tommy squinted hard and studied her face for a moment longer before slowly nodding and dropping his gaze.

“Alright then, Sheriff,” Tommy conceded, though it was clear that he wasn’t satisfied with her response.

Jenna nodded politely in thanks before leaving with Jake, their departure watched by Tommy’s unwavering eyes. Betty Larson followed them to the front door, then closed it firmly behind them as they stepped out onto the porch.

“We need to talk to Carl Reeves as soon as we can,” Jenna stated, her voice sharp with conviction.

“Agreed,” Jake responded immediately. “He could give us the breakthrough we’ve been chasing.”

“Let’s get back to the reservoir,” Jenna said. Jake gave a brief nod, his agreement silent but understood. As Jenna slid behind the wheel of her vehicle, she felt a familiar surge of focus. The engine roared to life at the turn of key; a steady purr filled the cab.

Jake spoke up, “I do have a question. You saw four boys in your dream, but could one of them actually have been Carl Reeves?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, because in real life, Carl is still alive,” Jake said.

Jenna realized it was a good question. As she drove away from the farm, she thought back to the dream and remembered what Clive Carroway’s ghost had told her about the boys: “They only exist in your mind—and our memories. They’re us—some years ago now.”

“I didn’t actually speak with any of the boys in the dream,” she told Jake. “And Clive said something about the boys not really being there, just being the men’s memories. So those kids in my dream weren’t really ghosts—just images of the past, images that the three ghosts were remembering.”

“Your dream world is complicated,” Jake commented.

“It sure is. I don’t understand it completely myself, even after all the years I’ve struggled with the riddles it gives me.”

Jake’s expression brightened. “Then Carl Reeves might actually be the fourth boy, the one missing from the group of grown men who did speak to you. He could even be the killer.”

“Maybe,” Jenna agreed, pulling the cruiser onto the main road and accelerating smoothly. “The fact that he didn’t tell us anything about his connection to the victims yesterday sure suggests that he’s hiding something. Let’s get out there and find out.”

Jake pulled out his phone, “That other name Tommy mentioned was Jimmy Koontz. Colonel Spelling might be able to tell us more about him.” He made the call while Jenna drove, and Spelling’s response soon crackled through the speaker.

“James Koontz? From Colstock? That name has haunted me for a while.”

“Please explain,” Jake said, and Jenna also listened intently with her gaze still fixed on the road ahead.

“Koontz disappeared two summers back,” Spelling continued. “At that time, he was a writer living in St. Louis, but he was born and bred in Colstock. He had an eccentric streak and liked to go off into the wilderness from time to time just to get some solitude, and when he did, he never told anybody where he was going. That summer he took off on one of his lone wolf jaunts into the wilds of Missouri and never returned. When his friends informed us he was missing, we did our best to find him. But it was like he’d been swallowed by the earth itself.”

“Could be we found him after all,” Jenna observed. “Swallowed up, but not by the earth.”

Spelling hesitated and then asked, “Are you saying he might be one of the bodies we took from the reservoir?”

“It’s looking that way, Colonel,” Jenna responded. “We’re headed to interview a person of interest on this case right now. I’ll keep you updated.”

They ended the call, and in a short time, Jenna drove into the parking area near Paul Rauer’s office at Sablewood Reservoir. When they entered the office, the reservoir manager looked up from his maps and monitoring equipment, startled by their sudden appearance. They asked about the man they had come here to see.

“Carl?” Rauer said with a frown. “He didn’t show up for work today. Didn’t call in sick either. It’s not like him at all.”

Jenna’s instincts flared. This was not the behavior of an innocent man content with routine. She looked at Jake, seeing her own suspicions mirrored in his eyes.

“You want his home address?” Rauer asked. When Jenna said yes, he jotted it down for her. “He lives there alone,” Rauer added.

“Thank you, Paul. Meanwhile, if you hear from him, let us know immediately,” Jenna said. Rauer simply nodded, his expression marked with concern.

Leaving the office, Jenna and Jake hurried back to their car. Jenna started up the cruiser and steered back onto the main road, speeding towards Carl Reeves’ address in the town of Colstock.

“We’re getting closer to nailing this case down,” Jenna said, steering the car through the winding roads. Her thoughts were laser-focused on Carl, on the fragmented history that seemed to weave itself around that man.

In Colstock, the suburban tranquility of modest homes and tidy lawns looked much too ordinary to hold the lair of a killer, but Jenna knew well the unpredictability that could be lurking in places that appeared innocent. Turning onto Carl’s street felt like stepping onto the stage of a play where the final act was uncertain, the ending unwritten.

“Let’s hope Carl is ready to talk,” Jake murmured.

“Or that he hasn’t already run...”

They turned a final corner onto a street of small homes. There, in front of a neat little bungalow, they spotted Carl. He appeared to be loading boxes into an SUV parked with the engine running. His movements were frenetic, the actions of a man spurred by desperation. Jenna’s heart hammered as she brought the cruiser to a halt. Not wanting to spook him, Jenna shut off the engine and got out of the car.

“Carl!” Her voice sliced through the morning stillness, authoritative and clear. “We need to talk to you.”

Her words seemed to reverberate down the quiet street. Carl paused, his body tensed, and in that moment Jenna knew without a doubt: they had arrived not a moment too soon.

Carl went rigid for a moment, the cardboard box clutched in his grasp as if it contained his last shred of hope. His eyes, wild with the fear of an animal trapped at the edge of a cliff, flicked from Jenna to Jake and back again. Then, as if the decision had been wrenched from him by an invisible force, he let go. The box crashed to the ground, the sound erupting in the quiet morning like a gunshot. Contents scattered across the driveway—a chaotic cascade of personal effects that marked the path of a man’s unraveling life. Without a word, Carl bolted, abandoning his belongings as he sprinted with unexpected speed toward the driver’s side of his SUV.

Jenna saw the desperation that drove Carl’s actions, recognized the raw panic that could push a man to flee.

Then, the piercing cry of tires against asphalt shattered the momentary stillness as Carl’s SUV jerked into motion. Dust billowed up behind it.

“Jake, call it in!” Jenna instructed, racing back to their car.

There was no time for hesitation. Jenna’s legs propelled her back towards their vehicle, and she leaped into the driver’s seat. Jake was secured in the passenger side just as quickly, and she started the engine.

“He turned left at the next corner,” Jake said.

Watching out for any pedestrians who might be endangered, Jenna revved up the cruiser’s engine and took off in pursuit of the fleeing SUV.