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“Anything new from Colonel Spelling?” Jenna asked as Jake Hawkins slid into the passenger seat of the cruiser. He had been waiting outside the Sheriff’s Office to join her on the drive to Sablewood Reservoir.

Jake shook his head. “Just that it’s a male body. Spelling was cagey about it. I think he’s as much in the dark as we are.”

As they left the familiarity of Trentville for the open road, cornfields flanked them, the plants struggling against the drought, leaves curled and brittle. After another mile, Jake broke the silence that had settled in the cruiser.

“Quite the shift from our case this morning,” he mused. “Judge Fallon accusing everyone on his staff of stealing his gavel until we turned his office upside down.”

Jenna chuckled at the memory. “Judge Fallon’s gavel turned out to be right under his nose the whole time. In his bottom desk drawer, of all places.” She shook her head, amused by the thought of the cantankerous and somewhat addled judge’s red-faced embarrassment when he’d sheepishly admitted his mistake.

Jake glanced over at Jenna, “Your visit with your mom... how did it go?” His question was gentle, probing the edges of her personal life with care.

Jenna took a deep breath, the image of her mother’s tired eyes surfacing in her mind. “She’s going through some serious changes,” Jenna said. “She’s trying to stop drinking. She asked me to pour out the last of her bourbon. I did that for her. It was a heavy moment.”

“Must’ve been tough,” Jake said softly, recognizing the significance of the gesture in Jenna’s family saga, where alcohol had long been an unwanted companion. He understood that Jenna’s strength often came from confronting her demons, whether they were rooted in the past or waiting ahead at crime scenes.

“Oh, it was a relief, really,” Jenna replied. She glanced at Jake, his profile etched by the harsh afternoon light. “Maybe today’s a day for turning points. It’s moments like these, pouring out my mom’s last bottle, that gives me hope for a new beginning.”

“Sounds like she’s on a better path,” Jake replied, his tone encouraging.

Jenna hesitated before bringing up the other thing that most occupied her mind at the moment.

“Speaking of new paths,” Jenna ventured, “I had one of those lucid dreams last night.”

“A dream about …?” Jake asked quietly. He knew that her lucid dreams brought messages that seemed to come from the dead.

“About a woman holding a sandpiper,” Jenna continued, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. “The bird could mean something, a message perhaps.”

“From Piper?” he queried,

“I don’t think the woman was Piper,” Jenna admitted. “Her face was hidden in fog. But ‘sandpiper’—it can’t be a coincidence with my sister’s name. There must be a connection.”

Jake nodded slowly, processing the information. “If Piper was gone, really gone, you’d know, right? Through your dreams?”

“Only the dead visit me there,” Jenna reaffirmed, her voice a soft echo of her inner turmoil. “So I have to believe there’s still hope that she’s alive.”

“Then we keep hoping,” Jake affirmed, his words steady and resolute.

“Hope is a stubborn thing,” Jenna murmured, her voice barely rising above the hum of the cruiser’s engine. The silence that followed was not uncomfortable; it was thoughtful.

Jenna could feel Jake’s gaze resting on her for a moment longer than necessary before he returned his attention to the view outside. She knew he was trying to reconcile the reality of her gift—a lucid dreaming ability that opened doors to the dead—with the stark facts and evidence they relied on in their daily work.

Just the day before, she had been gripped by the fear that this unearthly aspect of her life would fracture the bond they shared. Yet here he was, sitting beside her, steadfast and unwavering. It was a testament to his character, she thought, that he accepted her wholly, even the parts that defied explanation.

Jake shifted in his seat, reaching over to adjust the air vents. “You okay?” he asked, his voice a touch quieter than usual.

Jenna glanced at him, a grateful smile touching her lips. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks, Jake.”

He nodded, settling back into his seat.

As the road unfurled before them, a ribbon of asphalt cutting through the parched landscape, Jenna’s thoughts drifted to the conversation with Cassie, who had remarked on the way Jake looked at her—a look that hinted at something more than mere camaraderie. Her friend’s words echoed in her mind, stirring a flutter of uncertainty in her chest.

Cassie always did have a vivid imagination, Jenna thought, trying to brush off her friend’s insinuation as mere speculation. But once planted, doubt proved hard to uproot. Was it possible that Jake harbored feelings for her? Feelings that mirrored the hesitant attraction she herself felt but had so far managed to keep hidden?

Jenna glanced at Jake, her thoughts swirling with the words Cassie had dropped like a stone in a still pond. Could there be more than just friendship between them? She kept her focus on the road ahead, unwilling to risk catching his eye and betraying her inner turmoil.

As they continued their drive towards Sablewood Reservoir, Jenna felt that uncharted territory lay ahead - whether it held promise of a new beginning or forecasted inevitable complications remained uncertain. Finally, the vista opened up to reveal the expanse of the Sablewood Reservoir and its long earthen dam in the distance.

“If this is a murder, let’s hope it’s not another serial case,” Jenna mused, her voice betraying none of the dread that the idea instilled in her. Their last two cases had involved multiple threats and too many tragedies for a place like Genesis County.

“Spelling only mentioned the one body,” Jake assured her.

When they arrived at Sablewood Reservoir, the scene that unfolded was a familiar one: the unmistakable blue and silver of Highway Patrol cars were interspersed with the white formality of the coroner’s van by the parched bank. As the cruiser rolled to a stop, kicking up dust that hung in the arid air, Jenna’s gaze fixed on the flurry of activity ahead.

They could see that drought had pulled the waterline back, exposing stretches of cracked earth where water should lap. Missouri State Highway Patrol Colonel Spelling, his uniform crisp despite the heat, approached with a nod that was all business. Beside him, dam operator Paul Rauer’s expression was somber, his eyes reflecting the seriousness of what they had found.

“Sheriff Graves, Deputy Hawkins,” Spelling greeted them, “thank you for coming so quickly.”

“Of course, Colonel,” Jenna replied, schooling her features into the mask of detached professionalism she wore so well. They exchanged brief handshakes, the touch fleeting but firm, before turning toward the desolate shoreline. The walk toward the discovery site was punctuated by the crunch of dry earth underfoot as the dam operator briefed them.

“We found out about it during a routine check of the perimeter,” Rauer explained. “One of our guys was out on the boat when he saw something off in the shallows. Thought it was debris at first, but it didn’t take long to realize it wasn’t just driftwood or trash.”

Jenna observed the way Rauer’s gaze flitted across the water’s surface as if expecting the reservoir to yield more secrets. His hands moved animatedly as he spoke, betraying the nervous energy he worked to keep under control. Jenna knew that he was grappling with the unsettling reality of death’s intrusion into the daily routine.

“Turned out to be a body,” Rauer concluded grimly, “caught between some rocks and mud. Called in the highway patrol right away. Colonel Spelling got here fast, and so did the coroner.”

Jenna nodded, her emerald eyes scanning the horizon, already anticipating the procedures to follow. There would be questions, examinations, and the inevitable weaving of narratives to explain how a life came to end in such a forsaken place.

Melissa Stark, Genesius County’s coroner, was already bent over at the scene, her team moving with precise coordination. Even from this distance, the sense of urgency was obvious, each member intent on contributing to the investigation.

“Melissa,” Jenna called out as they drew near, her voice betraying none of her underlying concern.

“Leslie, Jake,” Melissa acknowledged without looking up from her meticulous examination of the remains. The county coroner was a study in focused precision as she knelt beside the waterlogged body on the bank of Sablewood Reservoir. Clad head-to-toe in a white hazmat suit that lent her an otherworldly air, she looked like an astronaut navigating an alien landscape. Her gloved hands moved with methodical care over the decomposed remains.

A mask obscured much of her face but couldn’t hide the clinical sharpness of her gaze. She paused in her examination to look up at Jenna and Jake.

“I’d maintain some distance if I were you,” she warned, her voice carrying an authoritative note. “This one’s been exposed to the elements for quite a while.”

Her eyes returned to the body before her, the features all but erased by decay and mud-caked skin clung stubbornly to skeletal remains. It was clear that the elements had taken their toll; the figure was barely recognizable as human in the dried clay and detritus of the reservoir bed.

“Any idea on the cause of death?” Jake asked.

“Too early to say for sure,” Melissa replied, pausing in her work. “We’ll know more after an autopsy, but the condition...” She shook her head slightly, leaving the sentence to drift off unfinished.

Jenna stood there, her mind racing through possibilities, her trained eyes noting every detail that could be gleaned from their vantage point. She felt the weight of responsibility settle upon her, the knowledge that answers must lay hidden within the silent testimony of the deceased.

Melissa Stark carefully extracted a sodden backpack from the mud. Without ceremony, she unzipped it and tilted the contents for Jenna and Jake to see. Rocks—dozens of them, smooth and deliberate in their purpose.

“Looks like he filled it with rocks, maybe to weigh himself down,” Melissa mused, her voice devoid of emotion as she considered the implications. “It could point to suicide by drowning.”

“Or murder,” Jenna commented. “This could be a way of hiding a body.”

“Yes, of course it could be.”

“How long ago?” Jenna asked.

“Given the decomposition and sediment... I’d say he’s been here for … very roughly … around two years.”

Jake asked, “Any idea who this might be?”

Although Jenna still had been a deputy back then, no clear match surfaced from Jenna’s mental archive of missing persons. “No one comes to mind,” Jenna replied. “But identifying him is our next priority.”

“Once we get him back to the coroner’s office, I’ll start on the autopsy right away,” Melissa declared, her professionalism a comforting constant. “Maybe we’ll turn up something to help with that.”

“Thanks, Melissa. Let us know anything you find out, no matter how small,” Jenna said, already turning over the scant facts in her mind, preparing for the steps ahead. “And I’ll keep you in the loop about whatever we find on our end.”

The oppressive heat of the afternoon sun bore down on them, a silent witness to their somber task. Jenna stepped back from the disheveled form lying on the bank, her mind teeming with questions.

“Of course, Jenna,” Melissa replied, casting a professional glance over the scene. “You’ll be the first one I call.”

With that settled, Jenna sought out Paul Rauer, who stood a few paces away, his face reflecting the weight of the discovery in his reservoir. “Paul, is there any risk to the water supply?” Jenna asked, knowing the concern would soon ripple through the small towns that drew water from the reservoir.

“None at all,” Rauer responded with an assuring nod. “The reservoir’s large enough to handle it, and we’ve dealt with bigger animal carcasses than this. It’s sad but true.” His words carried the acceptance of a man familiar with the cycles of nature and death.

Jenna appreciated his straightforwardness. There was something about the bare facts, free from the embellishments of fear or speculation, that grounded her. She nodded, filing away the assurance for the inevitable community worries about a dead body found in the water supply.

“Okay, what’s our next move?” Jake’s question drew her back to more immediate tasks.

“We need to talk to Frank Doyle,” Jenna stated, already picturing the retired sheriff’s face, etched with lines of past burdens and wisdom. “He was still sheriff when this happened. If anyone can shed light on a missing person from two years back, it’ll be him.”

“Right,” Jake agreed, but Jenna could see hesitation in his eyes, and the same concern was mirrored in her own mind.

“First though,” Jenna continued, “we have to call Mayor Simmons. She’ll demand to hear about this directly from us before the rumors start flying.”