“Jenna does have abilities,” Frank confirmed quietly.“But different from Piper’s.I’ll get out of here now and let you two continue this conversation.”
As Frank got to his feet, Piper looked up a bit anxiously.
“I’ll be sitting right outside until you’re finished,” Frank said.“It’s going to be okay, Piper.”
Frank stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.He settled into the waiting chair, suddenly feeling every one of his sixty-five years.The weight of responsibility felt heavy—for Jenna, for Piper, for all three Graves women who seemed caught in some terrible pattern of mystery and pain.
He’d failed to find Piper when she went missing twenty years ago.He’d watched Greg Graves die without ever knowing what happened to his daughter.He’d seen Margaret withdraw into a shell of grief and alcohol before slowly emerging in recent months.
And now Piper had returned, but instead of the happy ending they’d all hoped for, there were new mysteries, new fears.A killer who wrapped victims in colored yarn.And Piper sensing when those murders had happened.
He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.Somewhere in Trentville, a killer was selecting victims, choosing colors, planning.And here in this hospital corridor, an old ex-sheriff sat powerless, waiting for a damaged woman to emerge from therapy while her sister hunted a murderer.
Frank found himself, for the first time in years, saying a silent prayer—that Piper’s return to Trentville would not end in greater tragedy for the Graves family.That Jenna’s strength wouldn’t falter under this new burden.That the darkness, whatever it was, could be pushed back into the shadows where it belonged.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Trentville Community Wellness Center was a long single-story building of red brick and large tinted glass windows.As Jake pulled into a parking space near the main entrance, Jenna could make out the shapes of people moving in what appeared to be synchronized motions—a class of some kind in progress.
“I’ve known the director of the center for a long time,” Jenna told Jake.“Maybe Elena can help.”
They got out of the car and went inside the center, where lobby walls were decorated with local artwork and posters promoting wellness programs.A young woman looked up from the reception desk.“Sheriff Graves.How can I help you?”
“We’re looking for Elena Bowers,” Jenna replied.
“The director is finishing up her women’s self-defense class in Studio Three.”The receptionist gestured toward a hallway.“Should be done in about five minutes, if you want to wait.”
“We’ll head that way, thanks.”
They walked down the corridor, passing rooms where yoga mats lay stacked against walls and fitness equipment waited in orderly rows.Jenna had been here a few times before—once for a community outreach event, and twice when the center had hosted blood drives.The place always struck her as well-maintained.
A chorus of voices pulled her attention toward an open door near the end of the hall.Inside, a group of women of varying ages stood in a loose circle, their focus trained on their leader, who demonstrated a defensive stance.
“Remember,” Elena Bowers was saying, her voice clear and authoritative, “it’s not about matching strength for strength.It’s about leverage and surprise.”She motioned for a volunteer, and a woman in her twenties stepped forward.“Samantha’s going to grab my wrist, and I’ll show you again how to break that hold without using brute force.”
Jenna leaned against the doorframe, watching as Elena deftly twisted her arm and body in a fluid motion that left her attacker off-balance.Despite being in her mid-forties, Elena moved with the confidence of someone who had spent years honing her physical skills.Her dark hair was cut short and she wore simple black exercise clothes that emphasized her lean, athletic build.
“Perfect,” Elena said, steadying the volunteer.“And that’s why we practice these moves until they become muscle memory.In a real situation, you won’t have time to think.”She glanced toward the door, noticing Jenna and Jake for the first time, then smiled and returned her attention to the class.
“Let’s wrap up for today, ladies.Practice those wrist breaks with a partner before next week.And remember, awareness is your first line of defense.”She clapped her hands once.“Great work today.”
The group began to disperse, some women gathering bags from the side of the room, others lingering to ask Elena questions.Jenna and Jake waited, exchanging brief nods with those who passed by.
Then Elena approached them, wiping her brow with a small towel.“Sheriff, Deputy.This is an unexpected surprise.Is it about what I think it is?”
“Derek Sullivan and Amanda Hartford,” Jenna confirmed.“We’re talking to people who might have had contact with them.”
“It’s awful, isn’t it?The whole town’s on edge.”Elena glanced around, noting a few remaining students gathering their belongings.“We can talk in my office.”
She led them down the hall to a modest space with a desk, several visitor chairs, and a wall of certifications and photographs.Jenna noticed a framed picture of Elena with a younger woman who bore a striking resemblance to her.
“That’s Sophie, isn’t it?”Jenna said quietly.
“My sister,” Elena said with a nod.
“She looks like you,” Jenna replied, recalling the story.Sophie Bowers had committed suicide four years ago after struggling with mental health issues.Jenna remembered Sophie well.She was a kind and generous soul who was especially close to Jenna’s mom, but she was deeply troubled.
The loss had hit Elena hard—it was one of those tragedies that had rippled through the community, prompting whispered conversations about signs that had been missed, interventions that had come too late.
