In Her Hands (Jenna Graves #12)

PROLOGUE

Claudia Kingsley moved along the familiar woodland path as the early October sun was dipping behind the trees.

She breathed in the scent of earth and decaying leaves, letting crisp air fill her lungs and clear away the remnants of her day the constant din of twenty-three third-graders vying for her attention.

The forest at dusk had always been her refuge, even more so now that the house waited empty.

These walks had become essential since Keir moved out.

Their separation had taught her many things, but the value of solitude was perhaps the most unexpected lesson.

Here, among the towering oaks and maples, she could simply exist.

The path curved ahead, following the contour of a small creek that cut through their property.

It was still difficult to think of the whole place as solely hers, despite Keir's absence.

Three months wasn't enough to erase all the years of shared memories, of building a life together at the edge of the Whispering Pines Forest.

A squirrel darted across the path, stopping momentarily to assess her before scurrying up a nearby oak. Claudia watched its ascent, admiring its nimble efficiency. If only human relationships could be navigated with such instinctive grace.

The day at school had been long, filled with the usual challenges.

Sammy Winters had another meltdown during math.

Rachel Jennings kept interrupting the reading circle with elaborate stories that had nothing to do with the book.

And Principal Morris had cornered Claudia during lunch, asking how she was “holding up” with that particular blend of concern and curiosity that made her skin crawl.

“I’m fine,” she had assured him, the words so often used they'd lost all meaning. “Just taking it day by day.”

The truth was more complicated. Some days she was fine, relieved even, to be free of the tension that had infected their marriage after discovering Keir's affair.

With Emily away for her second year of college, the silence had become oppressive, the emptiness of the house nearly overpowering at times. But although Claudia missed her daughter fiercely, she couldn't deny the relief she felt knowing Emily was spared from her parents' unraveling.

The forest darkened as the sun sank lower. She should turn back soon. Her internal clock, honed by years of walking this route, told her she'd been out for nearly forty minutes. Enough time to clear her head, not enough to completely lose the light.

Still, she pressed on a little further. The walk back always seemed shorter, and these precious moments of peace would give way all too soon to the evening's solitary rituals.

The too-quiet house. The meals that felt pointless to prepare for just herself.

The empty space on the couch where Keir used to sit, working on landscape designs while she reviewed her students' work.

Her book club met tomorrow night—a small mercy.

Two hours of pastries and literary discussion with other adults would break the monotony.

Leith had chosen a thriller this time—Blackbriar Hollow by J.K.

West, about a small-town murder. Claudia had finished it three nights ago, staying up far too late because the alternative was lying awake in the too-large bed, listening to the house creak and settle.

She paused at a bend in the path, noticing an empty beer can nestled among the ferns.

Bending down, she retrieved it, lips pursed in disapproval.

Trespassers again. Despite the clearly marked property lines and “No Trespassing” signs Keir had installed years ago, local teenagers occasionally used their woods as a party spot.

Further along, she found more evidence—a crumpled chip bag, cigarette butts, the remains of a small campfire that sent a spike of anxiety through her chest. A forest fire could devour everything, including the house she still couldn't decide if she wanted to keep.

“Reckless,” she muttered, kicking dirt over the cold ashes. She would have to call Sheriff Graves again, ask for more patrols along this section of the forest. It had been a dry autumn so far. One careless spark could be catastrophic.

The wind picked up, sending a shower of leaves down around her.

Claudia pulled her cardigan closer, suddenly aware of the dropping temperature.

Time to head back to the empty house, to the refrigerator with its pathetic collection of single-serving meals, to the dining table where she now ate alone, often with a book propped open to disguise the absence across from her.

She started to turn back, then hesitated. Through the trees ahead, something caught her eye—a pale shape against the darkening forest. A deer, perhaps. They were common enough in these woods. Curiosity nudged her forward. She moved quietly, not wanting to startle it.

As she drew closer, the shape resolved itself into something decidedly unnatural.

Not a deer at all. Those were twigs, not antlers above that odd shape.

Something was hanging from a low branch of an oak.

Something with a distinctive head shape.

From this distance and angle, it resembled a wolf, with pointed ears and an elongated snout.

What was this doing on her property?

Claudia approached cautiously. Was it another prank by local teens? Halloween was just about a month away. Perhaps this was some kind of seasonal decoration that had been relocated to her woods as a joke.

The last rays of sunlight filtered through the tree canopy, illuminating the strange creation in patches of gold.

Now she could see it clearly—a papier-maché wolf's head, painted with surprising care, gray with yellow eyes and bared teeth.

Suspended beneath it was a large burlap sack, crudely fashioned into a fat wolf body.

Stubby legs were stitched on the bottom and sides, tipped with fabric claws.

A tail hung limply from the back, sewn from what might have been a piece of rope wrapped in more burlap.

The entire creation swayed slightly in the breeze.

Claudia circled it slowly, equal parts fascinated and disturbed.

This was no casual teenage prank. Someone had spent considerable time crafting this grotesque effigy.

She wished she had brought her cellphone along so she could get a picture of whatever this was.

She reached out, touching one of the fabric legs. The material was rough, the stitching uneven but secure. Why would someone hang this thing here, so deep in her property? Was it meant for her to find? A message of some kind?

Her mind flashed to Keir. Could this be his doing?

Some strange attempt to frighten her into leaving the house?

No—that wasn't his style. Despite the pain of their separation, they had managed to maintain a certain civility.

Besides, Keir had never shown this kind of artistic inclination.

His creativity was reserved for landscapes and garden designs, not crafting woodland monsters.

A rustle behind her broke through her thoughts. Claudia turned her head slightly, listening. Nothing followed. Probably just an animal—a raccoon or opossum emerging for its nightly forage.

“Hello?” she called out anyway, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the hushed forest. “Is someone there?”

No response came, but a feeling of being watched intensified. The forest that had felt so welcoming just minutes earlier now seemed to close in around her, full of shadows and hidden observers.

It was time to leave. Claudia took one last look at the wolf effigy, promising herself she would report it to Sheriff Graves tomorrow. As she turned to go, the rustle came again, still behind her, closer this time.

Before she could fully turn around, something sharp pierced the side of her neck. A needle? A sting? The pain was brief but intense, followed immediately by a spreading warmth that raced through her veins with alarming speed.

“What—” she began, but her tongue felt suddenly too large for her mouth. She tried to reach for the spot on her neck, but her arm refused to comply, hanging leaden at her side.

Claudia's vision blurred, the forest tilting at an impossible angle. Her knees buckled beneath her, no longer able to support her weight. As she crumpled to the ground, she caught a glimpse of movement—a figure, indistinct through her rapidly failing vision, stepping out from behind a nearby tree.

She tried to scream, but no sound emerged from her throat. Her lungs seemed to have forgotten how to function. Panic flooded her system, but even that was muted, as if experienced through a thick fog.

The last thing Claudia saw was a pair of boots stepping into her narrowing field of vision. Dark boots, practical, slightly muddy. Then darkness claimed her completely, the forest and the wolf and the boots all dissolving into nothing as consciousness slipped away.

Her last thought wasn't of Keir, or her students, or even of her own mortality. It was simply a flash of irritation that she wouldn't be at book club tomorrow to discuss the ending of Blackbriar Hollow—the one where you never saw the killer coming until it was too late.