CHAPTER TWO
“You okay over there?” Jenna asked, her voice deliberately light.
Piper turned slowly, as if returning from a great distance. “I'm fine. Just thinking.”
Those words again. Just thinking. The same phrase Piper had used before asking her unsettling question: “Do you ever wonder if all this isn't real?”
The hospital came into view—a sprawling three-story brick building at the edge of Trentville. Jenna pulled into the parking lot and found a space near the east entrance, closest to the psychiatric wing where Dr. White's office was located.
"Here we are," Jenna announced unnecessarily.
She turned off the engine but made no move to exit the vehicle.
Instead, she turned fully toward her sister.
"Whatever's happening, Piper, we can face it together.
That's what we missed out on for twenty years.
I'm not missing another chance to be your sister. "
Piper met her gaze, something vulnerable and uncertain in her green eyes—eyes identical to Jenna's own. For a moment, it seemed she might confide whatever troubled her.
Then the moment passed, and she reached for the door handle. “We're going to be late for the appointment.”
They walked side by side across the parking lot, their footsteps falling into an unconscious unison—the twin rhythm they'd shared since childhood.
Jenna held the door open, and they entered the hospital's sterile interior, with its antiseptic smell.
Familiar with their route, Jenna guided them past the main reception area toward the elevators.
In the elevator, Piper's reflection stared back at them from the polished metal doors—hollow-eyed and drawn.
Jenna saw her own reflection too, the lines of worry around her eyes deeper than they had been just months before, when finding Piper had still been an impossible dream rather than this complicated reality.
They reached the third floor and made their way down the hushed corridor to Dr. White's office. The door was already open, and the office was bright with morning light. Rows of books lined the walls, and an oversized green armchair sat invitingly in one corner.
Dr. White rose to greet them as they entered, her silver hair gleaming under the soft lighting.
“Good morning, Jenna, Piper,” she said, her voice carrying the practiced warmth of decades in her profession. She gestured to the comfortable chairs arranged in a small circle. “Please, have a seat.”
This had become their ritual over the past weeks—these first few minutes together before Piper's individual session. Jenna settled into the chair, noting how Piper perched on the edge of hers, as if ready to flee at the first opportunity.
“How has the week been?” Dr. White asked, her keen eyes moving between the sisters.
Jenna cleared her throat. “There's been a development.” She glanced at Piper, who gave a small nod of permission. “Piper's voices... they recently helped us solve a case.”
Dr. White's eyebrows lifted slightly. “Did they? That sounds significant.”
“It was,” Jenna continued, leaning forward.
“She heard something—knew something—that led us to evidence we might never have found otherwise.” She paused, the next part harder to admit.
“But the voices also led her directly into danger.
She went alone to confront the suspect. If we hadn't reached her in time...”
Dr. White turned to Piper. “Is this true? The voices directed you to go alone to a dangerous location?”
Piper gaze was fixed on her hands folded in her lap. “They were insistent. More so than usual.”
“But something else happened,” Jenna added quickly. “Something changed. Piper took charge of the voices. For the first time since she's been back, she commanded them instead of just listening.”
Dr. White's expression shifted to one of professional interest. “That represents a significant breakthrough, Piper.” She made a note on the pad resting on her knee. “Can you tell me about this moment of taking command?”
Piper's shoulders straightened slightly. “They were loud—all talking at once. Drowning me. And then I just... I couldn't take it anymore.” A hint of pride flickered across her face. “I told them to be quiet, and they listened. It was like finding a volume control I never knew existed.”
Jenna felt a surge of hope at Piper’s memory of what had happened. It was a glimpse of the strength that had allowed her twin to survive twenty years on her own.
“I'm concerned about the danger,” Dr. White said, redirecting the conversation.
“While it's remarkable that you're developing more control, Piper, we need to establish boundaries for your safety.” She looked at Jenna.
“Have you discussed protocols for when the voices provide information about your cases?”
Jenna shook her head. “Not formally. It's all been so new.”
“I suggest you do that soon,” Dr. White said firmly. “Set clear rules about communication and action—no going off alone, no matter how urgent the voices make the situation seem.”
“I agree,” Jenna said, relief washing through her at having a concrete step to take.
Dr. White glanced at her watch. “I think we should continue the session with just Piper now, if that's all right.”
Jenna stood. “I'll be right outside.” She touched Piper's shoulder lightly. “I'll be here when you're done.”
Piper looked up, her green eyes—mirror images of Jenna's own—momentarily clear and focused. “I know you will.”
Jenna stepped out into the hallway, closing the door softly behind her. She settled into one of the chairs in the small waiting area, suddenly alone with her thoughts. Piper's question from the drive echoed in her mind: “Do you ever wonder if all this isn't real?”
What had she meant by that? Was Piper questioning her homecoming? Her identity? The reality of being back with family after so long in the wilderness of her own making? Or was it something deeper—a fracture in Piper's grasp on reality itself?
Jenna realized that finding her sister was only a beginning. The harder part was helping Piper find herself again.
She picked up a glossy magazine from the table beside her—something about home renovation—and flipped through it without registering the images.
Her mind refused to focus on the printed pages, returning instead to the image of Piper's face in the car, that distant look as she posed her disturbing question.
She set the magazine down and checked her watch.
Twenty-five minutes until the session ended.
She leaned back and closed her eyes, letting the hospital's ambient sounds wash over her—distant voices, the soft ping of an elevator, the squeak of shoes on linoleum.
None of it drowned out her worry, or the persistent feeling that Piper remained present in body but still, in some fundamental way, missing.
When the door to Dr. White's office opened, Jenna straightened in her chair as Piper emerged alongside the psychiatrist. The transformation in her sister's face struck her immediately.
Her eyes, usually shadowed with wariness, now held a spark that Jenna recognized from their shared childhood—the glimmer of possibility.
“All set?” Jenna asked, rising to her feet.
“Yes. It was a good session.”
Dr. White stood in the doorway, her silver hair catching the light from her office window. “We made some excellent progress today,” she said, her voice warm. “I've given Piper a few exercises to try between now and our next appointment.”
“Thank you,” Jenna said, gratitude filling her chest. Dr. White was one of the few people who truly understood the complexities of Piper's situation—not just her reintegration into normal life after twenty years, but the reality of her odd communications. “Really, thank you.”
“You're doing the hard work,” Dr. White replied, addressing both sisters. “I'm just providing navigation tools.” She glanced at her watch. “I'll see you both next week, same time?”
Jenna confirmed and they said their goodbyes.
As she and Piper walked down the hallway toward the elevator, Jenna resisted the urge to pepper her with questions.
Her sister moved with a new ease, her steps lighter than they had been in weeks.
Whatever had transpired in that office had clearly been beneficial.
The elevator doors closed around them, and Piper's reflection in the polished metal looked back at Jenna with clearer eyes. On the ground floor, they stepped back into the crisp morning air and crossed the parking lot in companionable silence.
Once settled in the car, Jenna started the engine but didn't immediately put the vehicle in drive. She turned to Piper, who was gazing out at the hospital with a thoughtful expression.
“You seem better,” Jenna observed.
Piper turned to face her. “I feel more... anchored, I guess. Like I'm starting to find solid ground.”
Jenna pulled out of the parking space, steering them toward the hospital exit. “Do you want to talk about it? The session, I mean.”
Piper was quiet for a moment, watching the town of Trentville come into view as they left the hospital grounds behind. “Dr. White thinks I should start thinking about what comes next. Not just existing day to day, but building something.”
“Like what?” Jenna asked, hope stirring.
“Maybe a job. Something simple at first. Or continuing my education. I never finished high school, you know. Not as Piper Graves, anyway.” She smiled wryly. “Emma Kirby didn't either.”
Jenna felt a surge of pride. This was the most Piper had spoken about future plans since her return. “That sounds promising. Any thoughts about what kind of job might interest you?”
“Something quiet. Maybe at the library? I've always loved books. Dr. White says the structure would be good for me, and—”
Piper stopped abruptly, her body going rigid in the passenger seat. Her hands gripped the edges of her seat.
“Piper?” Jenna glanced over, alarmed. She pulled the car to the shoulder of the road, putting it in park. “What's wrong?”
Piper's face had drained of color, her eyes wide and unfocused. When she spoke, her voice emerged as a whisper, thick with dread. “The wolf. The wolf is out hunting.”
“What do you mean?”
“I see the vultures circling.” Piper's gaze remained fixed on something Jenna couldn't see, something beyond the windshield, beyond the physical world around them. “They’ll show you where to find the wolf. You have to cut open his belly.”
Jenna reached out, placing her hand on Piper's arm. Her sister's skin felt cold beneath her touch. “Piper, I don't understand. Is this... are these the voices?”
Before Piper could answer, the police radio crackled to life. Jake's voice cut through the static.
“Sheriff? You copy?”
Jenna grabbed the radio. “I'm here, Jake. What's up?”
“We've got a situation. Trentville Elementary called the station this morning—Claudia Kingsley didn't show up to teach her class.” Jake's voice was clipped, efficient.
“No call in sick, no request for a substitute. She’s not answering her phone.
Principal said it's completely out of character for her.”
Jenna glanced at Piper, whose gaze had now shifted to the radio, alert and focused. “Did someone check her house?”
“Yeah, that's the thing. Her car is in the driveway, but no one's answering the door. Neighbors haven't seen her since yesterday afternoon.” A pause, then, “I'm heading over there now with Officers Miller and Ramirez. Thought you'd want to know.”
“You're right. I'll meet you there.” Jenna glanced at Piper, whose breathing had steadied but whose face remained pale. “I need to drop Piper at Mom's first. Twenty minutes, tops.”
“Copy that. We'll secure the scene until you arrive.”
Jenna replaced the radio and turned to her sister. “Are you okay?”
“It's passing now.” Piper swallowed hard. “Did you... did you understand what I was saying?”
“About the wolf? And vultures?” Jenna shook her head, pulling the car back onto the road. “No. But I'm starting to think it must have something to do with Claudia Kingsley.”
“The teacher Jake said was missing?” Piper frowned. “I don't know her.”
“You wouldn't. She moved to Trentville about four years ago. Mid-thirties, teaches fourth grade. She and her husband Keir separated a few months ago.”
Silence filled the car as Jenna accelerated, heading toward their mother's house. She needed to get Piper safely home and then find out what waited for them at Claudia Kingsley's home.