CHAPTER THREE
Jenna turned her cruiser onto the quiet lane that would lead her to Claudia Kingsley's house. She tried to focus on the road ahead rather than the echo of her twin sister's words about vultures and wolves.
She was hoping to discover an innocent explanation for a teacher's missed workday.
People overslept. They forgot appointments.
They came down with sudden illnesses and failed to call in.
But from what Jake had told her over the phone, Claudia Kingsley had never missed a day without notice in her eight years of teaching.
“Please be sleeping off a hangover,” Jenna muttered to herself, accelerating slightly as the houses grew farther apart, lots expanding into the semi-rural outskirts of Trentville. “Please just be nursing a broken heart with a bottle of wine.”
Jenna had met Claudia only a handful of times—once at a community fundraiser for the elementary school, and again when Claudia had attended one of the sheriff department's safety workshops after a string of break-ins last year.
She'd seemed reserved but kind, the type of elementary teacher who maintained order without raising her voice, who commanded respect through consistency rather than fear.
Keir, on the other hand, had struck Jenna as charming but hollow, a man so concerned with appearances that he'd forgotten substance.
His landscaping business was successful, his work conscientious, but there was something about his smooth smile that never seemed genuine.
When news of his affair with an employee had spread through Trentville—as all scandals inevitably did—Jenna hadn't been surprised.
Disappointed, but not surprised. She felt sure that the separation must have been hard on Claudia.
Three months wasn't long enough to rebuild a life shattered by infidelity.
The road curved sharply to the right, and Claudia's two-story colonial home came into view, set back from the road and partially obscured by mature oak trees.
It was a handsome house, painted a soft green with crisp white trim.
Keir's touch was evident in the landscaping—perfectly symmetrical flowerbeds, artfully placed stone pathways, a small Japanese maple that added a splash of deep red against the green lawn.
A home designed to project harmony and order, now a scene of concern for the one who lived there.
Jake's department cruiser was parked at the curb.
As Jenna pulled up behind it, she saw Officers Miller, Ramirez, and Delgado near the front porch.
Jake himself was speaking with an older woman in a floral gardening apron, her gray hair pulled back neatly.
Jenna recognized her as Mrs. Thornfield, Claudia's neighbor from across the street.
She parked behind Jake's vehicle and stepped out.
“Sheriff,” Jake said as she approached, “Mrs. Thornfield here has been kind enough to provide us with some information.”
“And a spare key,” the older woman added, holding up a silver house key. “Claudia gave it to me last year when she went to visit her mother in Chicago. Asked me to water her plants. I never gave it back, and she never asked for it. Guess that was fortunate, considering.”
“Mrs. Thornfield, I'm Sheriff Graves,” Jenna introduced herself. “When was the last time you saw Claudia?”
“Yesterday afternoon, around four. She was just coming home from school, I guess. Waved to me like she always does.” The woman's brow furrowed. “Is she okay? It's not like her to not show up at work without calling.”
“That's what we're here to find out,” Jenna said, keeping her tone even, reassuring. No need to alarm the neighbor until they knew more. “Have you noticed anything unusual in the past few days? Visitors? Strange cars? Arguments?”
Mrs. Thornfield shook her head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. It's been quiet since Keir moved out. Too quiet, if you ask me. A house needs life in it.”
“And Keir hasn't been by recently?”
“Not that I've seen. But I'm not watching the place 24/7, you understand. I have my own life to live.”
Jake caught Jenna's eye. “Still no answer on her cell phone. It goes straight to voicemail.”
That detail sharpened Jenna's concern. They knew that Claudia's car was still here, but where was she?
“Thank you for your help, Mrs. Thornfield. We're going to check inside now. Would you mind waiting out here with Officer Miller?”
The older woman looked disappointed at being excluded from the investigation but replied, “Of course. I hope she's alright.”
“Ramirez and Delgado, you stay out here too. Keep an eye on the perimeter,” Jenna instructed. “Jake, you're with me.”
Mrs. Thornfield handed over the key, and Jenna approached the front door. Following procedure, she knocked firmly and called out, “Claudia? This is Sheriff Graves. Are you there?”
Silence answered her.
After a second attempt with the same result, Jenna slid the key into the lock. The door opened smoothly, revealing a dim entryway. The house had that particular stillness that spoke of emptiness—no footsteps, no television murmur, no rustling of pages or clinking of dishes.
“Claudia?” Jenna called again as she and Jake stepped inside. “Genesius County Sheriff's Department. We're here to check on you.”
Jake moved to the right, toward what appeared to be a living room. “Clear,” he called a moment later.
Jenna went left, into a neat kitchen. A coffee mug sat in the sink, not washed.
A newspaper from yesterday was folded on the counter, open to the crossword puzzle, half completed.
A small notepad beside it had a grocery list written in a tidy hand—milk, bread, coffee, laundry detergent.
Normal, everyday things. No signs of struggle or disturbance.
“Kitchen's clear,” she called to Jake.
They methodically worked through the first floor—dining room, home office, half bathroom under the stairs. Everything in its place, nothing to suggest violence or a hasty departure. The house felt... paused, as if Claudia had simply stepped out momentarily and would return at any second.
“Let's check upstairs,” Jenna said, leading the way up the carpeted staircase.
The second floor included a master bedroom, a guest room, a full bathroom, and what appeared to be a small craft room.
In the master bedroom, the king-sized bed was neatly made, a decorative pillow carefully centered against the headboard.
On the bedside table, a glass of water and a well-worn paperback novel.
Jenna checked the closet—clothes hung in orderly rows, shoes paired on the floor below.
In the bathroom, a towel hung over the shower rod. A toothbrush stood in a holder by the sink, toothpaste nearby, its cap firmly in place. The mirror cabinet revealed ordinary medications—Tylenol, antihistamines, a prescription for occasional migraines.
The last room they checked appeared to be a teenaged girl’s bedroom. Jenna remembered that Claudia had a daughter away at college—Emily, Jenna thought her name was.
They finished checking the upper floor and returned downstairs.
Jenna's unease had deepened rather than diminished.
It all seemed too normal, too undisturbed.
Whatever had happened to Claudia, it had happened elsewhere, after she'd left the house—but her car was still in the driveway. None of it made sense.
“Let's check the backyard,” she suggested. “Maybe there's something askew out there.”
They moved through the kitchen to the back door, which opened onto a wooden deck overlooking a neatly maintained yard.
Like the front, the backyard showed Keir's input—stone pathways winding between garden beds, a small water feature bubbling in one corner, the edges of the lawn precisely trimmed where it met the woods beyond.
The woods. Something made Jenna look up, scanning the sky above the tree line.
“Jake,” she said, her voice tight. “Look.”
Against the clear blue of the morning sky, dark shapes circled lazily. Vultures. Five or six of them, riding thermal currents as they maintained their vigil over something below.
Piper's words echoed in Jenna's mind with sudden, terrible clarity: Vultures circling over the wolf.
“Damn it,” Jake muttered beside her. “That's never a good sign.”
Although Jenna didn’t say so, she realized it might be worse than Jake realized. He didn’t yet know about Piper’s communication about vultures.
“Call Miller, Ramirez, and Delgado around,” Jenna said, already moving down the deck steps toward the yard. “Tell them to let Mrs. Thornfield go home and join us. We need to check this out.”
Jake spoke into his radio as he followed her across the lawn. Officers Miller, Ramirez, and Delgado appeared moments later, rounding the side of the house.
“Stay alert,” Jenna instructed them. “We don't know what we're walking into.”
At the edge of the woods, a well-worn path led between the trees.
It wasn't a formal trail, more like a route that had been traveled often enough to compact the earth and clear away undergrowth.
Jenna led the way, her hand resting on her holstered weapon, senses heightened.
The sounds of suburban life faded behind them, replaced by the rustle of leaves and occasional chirp of a bird—though there weren't even many of those, as if a lot of woodland creatures had vacated the area.
About fifty yards in, Jenna paused. To the right of the path, discarded beer cans and cigarette butts littered a small clearing.
“Looks like someone's been partying out here,” Jake observed, crouching to examine the debris. He picked up an empty plastic bag with gloved hands, sniffed it, and grimaced. “Weed. Probably local kids using the woods as a hangout.”
“Could Claudia have confronted them?” Officer Miller suggested. “Maybe things got out of hand?”
“Maybe,” Jenna said, but the theory didn't feel right. The beer cans were dusty, the cigarette butts looked soggy. The debris had been here since before last night.
They continued down the path. The trees grew denser, the light dimmer, filtered through the canopy overhead. The vultures were directly above them now.
Then Jenna saw it—suspended from a thick branch about twenty feet ahead. Something large and misshapen, hanging by a rope.
"Stay back," Jenna ordered, drawing her weapon. "Jake, with me. Miller, Ramirez, and Delgado wait outside and keep any curious people away."
The officers complied, moving to positions that gave them visual coverage of the surrounding area while keeping a respectful distance from whatever was hanging from that tree.
Jenna and Jake approached slowly, weapons ready.
As they drew closer, the grotesque details came into focus.
A large burlap bag hung from a sturdy rope, but it wasn't just a bag—someone had attached crude legs and paws to its sides and a papier-maché wolf's head to the top.
The head was primitive but unmistakable—pointed ears, elongated snout, jagged teeth painted white against gray.
Black button eyes stared sightlessly ahead, giving the creation an eerie, watching quality.
“What the hell?” Jake whispered. “A wolf?”
Jenna stood frozen for a moment. Piper had said that vultures would show where to find a wolf. And then she’d added, “You have to cut open his belly.”
“We need to get it down,” Jenna said, holstering her weapon. “Carefully.”
Jake looked at her sharply. “You think...?”
“I think Claudia Kingsley is likely to be inside that bag.”
Jake called Miller over, instructing him to retrieve the department-issued tactical knife from the patrol car.
While they waited, Jenna circled the hanging form, studying it from all angles.
The craftsmanship was crude but deliberate—someone had taken time with this macabre display.
The rope was standard hardware store variety, tied in a simple but effective knot to a branch about six feet above the ground.
The burlap bag itself appeared to be industrial-sized, the kind used for landscaping materials or large agricultural products.
Landscaping. The word registered with a jolt. Was there a connection to Keir's business?
As they waited, Jake used his cellphone to take photos from every angle.
Then Miller returned with the knife, and they all put on their gloves.
Jake climbed onto a nearby stump to reach higher, sawing through the rope while Miller and Jenna positioned themselves below to catch the thing when it fell.
“Easy,” Jenna cautioned as the rope frayed. “We need to preserve whatever evidence is here.”
With a final slice, the rope gave way. The bag dropped, and Jenna and Miller staggered under its weight—definitely human-sized, definitely containing something solid. They lowered it carefully to the ground.
Jenna knelt beside the grotesque creation, steeling herself as Jake again documented the scene from multiple angles, his expression grim behind the camera.
When he'd finished, Jenna used the knife to carefully cut through the coarse burlap material, starting at what would be the “belly” of the wolf.
Just like Piper said, Jenna thought.
The fabric parted to reveal a glimpse of pale skin and dark fabric. Jenna cut further, working methodically to open the bag without disturbing the contents more than necessary. As more of the opening widened, there was no mistaking what they'd found.
Claudia Kingsley lay curled inside, her body contorted to fit the confines of the bag.
Her eyes were closed, her skin pallid with the unmistakable gray undertone of death.
She was fully dressed in what appeared to be work clothes—a modest blouse and skirt that had probably been chosen for a day of teaching.
There was no immediately obvious wound, no blood soaking her clothing.
Jenna sat back on her heels. “It's Claudia,” she confirmed unnecessarily. “Call it in. We need Dr. Stark and her team out here right away. Full crime scene protocol.”
Jake stepped away to make the call. Miller, Ramirez, and Delgado returned to their previous positions, securing the area.
Alone for a moment with the victim, Jenna studied Claudia's face.
In death, she looked younger somehow, the lines of worry erased from around her eyes and mouth.
Whatever had happened to her, Jenna would find out.