CHAPTER FOUR
Jenna stood watching as the county coroner, Dr. Melissa Stark, knelt beside Claudia Kingsley's body, anxious to hear if she could offer any explanation for this woman’s death or any clue as to why her body was found hanging in a tree—or why somebody had gone to the trouble of creating the wolf image to hold her there.
Around them, the scene pulsed with activity—officers securing the perimeter with yellow tape, technicians collecting samples.
Photographers were documenting the body and the entire area.
Jake was conferring with them, sharing images he’d taken of the burlap wolf when it was hanging and when it was taken down and cut open, revealing the victim inside.
Claudia lay on her back now, arms at her sides. Her skin had taken on the waxy pallor of recent death, but her face appeared serene, almost peaceful—a stark contrast to the violent circumstances Jenna suspected had brought her here.
A few minutes later, Jake approached Jenna. “Forensics is finishing up with the surrounding area,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Nothing obvious yet, but they're being thorough. I’ve turned over the photos I took.”
She gestured for him to step away from the immediate vicinity of Dr. Stark's work. When they were out of earshot of the nearest officer, she turned to face him.
“I want to tell you about something that Piper said this morning,” she said. “About vultures and a wolf's belly.”
“Another vision?”
“Yes. She was just fine after she saw Dr. White, but on the way home she suddenly became agitated and started talking about a wolf out hunting.”
“The timing of that is …”
“Yeah, I know. She also said she saw vultures circling, and that they would show us where the wolf was. Then she told me, ‘You have to cut open his belly.’”
Jake glanced back at the papier-maché wolf's head and burlap bag that still lay on the ground. “Sure sounds like it must be connected to this.”
“And that’s a problem. Piper's been doing so well with Dr. White. I'm worried that whatever is happening here could set back her recovery.”
“You told me that Dr. White said these things take time. Years, even.”
“I know. But Piper's obviously sensitive to...” Jenna hesitated. “To things most people aren't. If she's picking up on this—whatever this is—it could overwhelm her.”
Jake stepped closer, lowering his voice further. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking? That we might have another serial killer on our hands?”
“I don't want to jump to conclusions,” she said carefully, “but this is certainly ... staged. And if the killer is sending a message, we’ve seen that kind of thing in serials before.”
“The wolf's belly,” Jake murmured. “Could be symbolic. Or literal, in some twisted way. It’s like the killer is trying to tell us some sort of story.”
“I agree. And we need to be careful about how much of this gets out. The last thing Trentville needs is panic over another—”
“Sheriff Graves?” Dr. Stark's voice cut through their conversation. “Deputy Hawkins? You might want to see this.”
They crossed back to where Dr. Stark crouched beside Claudia's body. With her silver hair pulled back in a practical bun, Dr. Stark was a formidable woman who commanded respect with her cool efficiency. The coroner pointed to a small, almost imperceptible mark on the side of the victim's neck.
“See that?” Dr. Stark said, her gloved finger hovering just above the skin. “That's consistent with an injection site.”
Jenna leaned closer, squinting at the tiny puncture. “Injection of what?”
“That's what the lab will tell us, but my guess would be some kind of toxin.” Dr. Stark's eyes, sharp and analytical behind her glasses, met Jenna's. “Something fast-acting, judging by the lack of defensive wounds or signs of struggle.”
“She was subdued first?” Jake asked.
“Or taken by surprise,” Dr. Stark said. “I'll know more after the autopsy, but I can tell you this much—I'm not seeing any visible injuries that would account for death. No strangulation marks, no stab wounds, no blow to the head, no blunt force trauma at all.”
“Time of death?”
“Based on body temperature and lividity, I'd estimate sometime around dusk yesterday evening.” Dr. Stark stood, her knees cracking slightly with the movement. “But that's preliminary. I'll narrow it down once I get her on the table.”
“Anything else?”
“Not yet,” Dr. Stark said. She turned to her assistants, who stood ready with a gurney and body bag. “Let's get her prepped for transport.”
The team moved efficiently, treating Claudia's body with a quiet dignity that Jenna always appreciated. She watched as they carefully placed her in the bag, zipped it closed, and lifted her onto the gurney.
As her team wheeled the body toward the waiting van, Dr. Stark peeled off her gloves and stepped closer to Jenna and Jake.
“Off the record,” she said, her voice pitched low, “this is getting out of hand.”
“What do you mean?” Jake asked, though Jenna suspected she already knew.
“It's been such a short time since I had those two strangulation victims in my morgue.” Dr. Stark shook her head. “The bodies are piling up in Trentville, and I don't like it. Not one bit.”
A technician called to Dr. Stark from the van, and she held up a finger in acknowledgment before turning back to Jenna.
“I don't have a superstitious bone in my body, Sheriff,” she continued, “but I'd be lying if I said recent events haven't got me unnerved.”
Jenna felt a familiar tightening in her chest. “I know, Melissa. We're working on it.”
Dr. Stark glanced around, making sure they weren't being overheard, then lowered her voice further. “I'm not speaking just as a colleague now, Jenna, but as someone who's known you since you and your sister were kids.”
The sudden shift to the personal caught Jenna off guard. “What is it?”
“People are talking.” Dr. Stark's expression softened with concern. “The community's nerves are frayed, and when that happens, folks look for patterns, explanations... someone to blame.”
“And they're blaming me,” Jenna said. It wasn’t a question, though her pulse quickened.
“Not directly, but there's talk. About how the violence seemed to escalate after you became sheriff. How the worst cases seem to find their way to you.” Dr. Stark hesitated. “Some are even suggesting a connection between your... unusual insights and the nature of these crimes. Of course it’s ridiculous. But fear makes people irrational. And right now, Trentville is afraid.”
This wasn't anything Jenna hadn't heard or didn't already know. Only a handful of trusted people actually knew the truth about her abilities. But rumors existed, and they cut deeper than she wanted to admit.
“I appreciate you telling me this, Melissa,” she said finally. “It’s really important that we keep this one quiet if I’m going to have a chance to track this killer. Please be sure that none of your staff will be talking about the details of this crime scene outside your office.”
Dr. Stark studied her face. “I’ll do that Jenna. But you know how hard it is to keep something like this from getting out.” Then she frowned and added, “Just be careful, Jenna. Watch your back.” She glanced at Jake. “Both of you.”
With that, Dr. Stark turned and walked to her van, calling out instructions to her team as she went.
Jenna stood motionless, watching as they loaded Claudia's body into the vehicle. The morning had grown brighter, but the shadows around them seemed to have deepened.
“You okay?” Jake's voice pulled her from her thoughts.
“Yeah,” she said automatically, then amended: “No. But I don't have time not to be.”
Jake's hand came to rest lightly on her shoulder. “The talk will die down once we solve this case.”
“No, it won’t,” Jenna said. “We’ve already had too many murders, and people keep wondering how I keep solving them. And what if we don’t solve this one?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.
"We'll solve this one too." His arm reached around her shoulders, hesitating slightly before giving her a quick, awkward hug.
"We're really good together, you know." Something electric passed between them before he abruptly released her, and cleared his throat.
"I'll give strict orders to our team to keep all these weird details private.
All anybody has to know is that Claudia Kingsley was found dead on her own property. Then what's our next step?"
“We need to talk to Keir Kingsley.”
“Yeah, Mrs. Thornfield mentioned him,” Jake said, his hand dropping back to his side. “Separated for what, three months?”
“So I’ve heard.” Jenna pulled out her phone. “Let's find out if he already knows about his wife.”
She dialed the number for Kingsley Landscapes, which she'd looked up earlier. After two rings, a woman answered.
“Kingsley Landscapes, how can I help you?”
“This is Sheriff Jenna Graves. I need to speak with Keir Kingsley, please.”
There was a brief pause. “Mr. Kingsley is here. He's with a client right now. Can I take a message?”
Jenna exchanged a look with Jake. Keir was at work, business as usual. Either he didn't know about Claudia yet, or he was putting on a hell of a show.
“This is an urgent police matter,” Jenna said firmly. “I need to speak with him immediately.”
“Oh!” The receptionist's voice shifted from official to concerned. “Is everything all right?”
“I need to discuss that with Mr. Kingsley directly,” Jenna replied. “Is there somewhere private he can take the call?”
“Yes, of course. His client just left, and he’s alone in his office. Let me get him for you.”
As they waited, Jake leaned in. “If he doesn't know yet...”
“Then we're about to ruin his day, at the very least.”
The line clicked, and a man's voice came through. “This is Keir Kingsley. What's this about, Sheriff?”
Something in his voice—too calm, too controlled—raised Jenna's hackles. “Mr. Kingsley, I need to meet with you as soon as possible regarding a serious matter. Are you able to remain at your office for the next twenty minutes?”
There was a pause. “Is this about Claudia? Has something happened?”
Jenna's eyes met Jake's. The question seemed genuine, but years in law enforcement had taught her that genuine and innocent weren't always the same thing.
“I'd prefer not to discuss this over the phone, Mr. Kingsley,” she said. “We'll be there shortly.”
Another pause. “All right. I'll be here.”
Jenna ended the call and slipped the phone back into her pocket. “He asked if it was about Claudia.”
“First place his mind went,” Jake observed. “Could mean he's concerned about her.”
“Or he knows exactly what happened to her,” Jenna countered. She turned to Officer Miller “Finish processing the scene. I want every leaf, every twig, every particle of dirt cataloged and analyzed. Nothing gets overlooked, understood?”
“Yes, Sheriff,” Miller replied.
“And keep the media at bay as long as possible,” she added. “No details about the position of the body or potential cause of death. I don’t want any leaks about any of this. None. Is that clear?”
“Crystal, Sheriff.”
Jenna then turned toward Officer Maria Delgado, who was now at the scene. She knew that she needed someone with Maria’s people skills for something else that needed to be done.
"Maria, I need you to go talk to Mrs. Thornfield—break the news about Claudia's death without giving away any details. Do you think you can do that?"
“I’ll do my best,” Maria said.
“I know you’ll be delicate about it,” Jenna said. “And I appreciate that.”
Jenna turned back to Jake. “Let's go see what Keir Kingsley has to say for himself.”
They walked together toward Jenna's cruiser, leaving behind the ordered chaos of the crime scene.
As they went, Jenna couldn't shake the feeling that they were stepping deeper into something dangerous, a story that had been crafted long before they arrived—a story where they weren't just investigators, but unwitting characters.
The engine rumbled to life beneath them as Jake fastened his seat belt. “So, what's your read? Grieving husband or murder suspect?”
Jenna pulled onto the narrow road leading back to town. “With any luck, we'll know soon enough.”