CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Jenna slowed her car as she reached the intersection of Maple and Main, the streets nearly empty in the pre-dawn light.
She was exhausted, and her whole body ached from falling down the passageway, but a sense of satisfaction was keeping her going.
The case was closed, the killer was in custody, and the doctor at the ER had pronounced her free of concussion or serious injury,
She and Jake had parted with a promise to follow up on the discussion they’d agreed was due.
Whatever the complications, whatever the risks, she also wanted to find out where this thing between them could go.
And Frank had alerted her about Piper—her twin sister was back in Trentville, safe and whole.
Although Jenna was exhausted, she felt that she had a lot to look forward to.
The sky had begun to lighten in the east, pale streaks of gold pushing back the night.
Storefronts along Main Street were still dark, their display windows reflecting Jenna’s headlights as she passed.
A single paperboy pedaled his bicycle down the sidewalk, tossing folded newspapers onto porches.
The rhythm of small-town life continuing, undisturbed by the darkness she’d just faced.
Jenna turned left onto Willow Street, heading toward her own neighborhood.
She’d grab a few hours of sleep, then head back to the station to wrap up the final details of the case.
Slowing as she approached the turn that would take her to her own street, she hesitated, then continued straight, toward her mother’s neighborhood.
It was just an impulse to see her childhood home before getting to bed.
Mom and Piper would still surely be asleep.
As Jenna approached, she caught sight of a figure on the porch swing—a woman wrapped up warmly, her breath visible in the chilly morning air.
For a moment, Jenna’s heart stuttered, thinking it might be her mother up at this impossible hour.
But as she drew closer, the figure raised a hand in greeting, and Jenna recognized the gesture, the tilt of the head.
It was Piper.
Jenna pulled to the curb, killing the engine and sitting for a moment, just watching. Her sister was really there—not a dream, not a memory, but flesh and blood, wrapped in one of their mother’s quilts and swinging gently on the porch.
Jenna stepped out of the car, her muscles protesting as she straightened.
And then her sister was on her feet, the quilt falling away as she hurried down the steps.
They met in the middle of the front yard, arms around each other, Piper’s face pressed against Jenna’s shoulder as they clung together.
Jenna closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of her sister’s hair, feeling the solid reality of her presence.
“You’re really here,” she whispered, the words catching in her throat. “You’re really home.”
Piper pulled back, eyes bright with tears. “I’m home,” she agreed. “For good this time.” She studied Jenna’s face, her expression shifting to concern. “You look terrible. When’s the last time you slept?”
Jenna laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside. “I’ve been a little busy catching a killer,” she said. “But that’s over now. He’s in custody, and the case is closed.”
Piper’s smile widened. “I knew you’d solve it. That’s why I’m out here.”
Jenna tilted her head, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“I woke up about an hour ago,” Piper explained. “The voices told me you’d solved your case and would be driving by soon. So, I came out to wait.” She gestured toward the porch swing.
Not the voices again, Jenna thought. Piper’s voices had had driven her to run away twenty years ago. They’d convinced her she was someone named Emma Kirby, had kept her on the move, never staying in one place long enough to be found.
Piper must have seen the change in her expression. She reached for Jenna’s hand, squeezing gently. “Don’t worry,” she said. “They’re different now. They’re not harmful anymore—they’re helping me.”
“Helping you?” Jenna asked carefully.
Piper led her toward the porch steps. “It’s a long story,” she said.
“But the short version is, Dad came to me in a vision. He helped me understand what was really happening—that the voices were never what I thought they were.” She paused, settling onto the swing and patting the space beside her. “Want to hear about it?”
Jenna sank onto the swing, suddenly aware of just how tired she was. “I’d love to,” she said. “But first, there’s something I’ve been wondering about—did you take your brooch with you? The one with the opal?”
Piper’s expression softened. “I did,” she said. “But I threw it back into the well at Whispering Pines Forest. Loyalynne—that’s what I called the doll who appeared to me—told me I had to.”
“The doll?” Jenna repeated, trying to follow. “Loyalynne?”
“The one from the Ida Billings case,” Piper explained. “She started visiting me after you solved the case, took charge of my life. But she’s gone now. Dad explained that she was never really there—just another manifestation of my fear.”
Jenna blinked, processing this. “We could ask the Rangers to help us find the brooch,” she offered. “If you want it back.”
Piper shook her head. “I don’t need it for grounding or security, not anymore.” She smiled, a hint of her old mischief returning. “Now, are you going to tell me about this case you just solved? Or are you too tired?”
Jenna felt a smile forming in response. “I’d love to,” she said. “But maybe we should go inside where it’s warmer?”
As they rose from the swing, Jenna felt a sensation she recognized from her dreams, though she’d never experienced it while awake. Her father’s presence, she realized with a start. Not a visitation, not a warning, but something simpler—approval, perhaps, or contentment.
She followed Piper up the steps and through the front door, into the house where they’d grown up together. Home, with all its complications and comforts. And she knew that somewhere above them, unseen but unmistakable, her father’s spirit watched over his reunited family.