CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As Jenna drove, she could see from quick glances in the rearview mirror that Piper was still trembling in the back seat of the car—chilly despite Frank’s jacket pulled tightly around her.
She knew that her sister wasn't experiencing a normal cold—this came from somewhere beyond their world, from the winter landscape of a vision.
Frank also sat in back, one weathered hand holding Piper's, while Jake kept turning in the passenger seat to keep check on her.
“Still with us, Piper?” Jenna asked.
Piper’s teeth were chattering. “S-snow everywhere,” she whispered. “Can't you s-see it?”
Jake shot Jenna a concerned look. “Just a few more minutes to your mom’s. She’ll probably do better at home.”
Jenna pressed down harder on the accelerator. This wasn't the first time Piper had slipped into a vision state, but the intensity—the way it had physically affected her—was new and terrifying.
“Red against white,” Piper murmured, her gaze fixed on something beyond the car window. “So beautiful...”
Jenna turned onto her mother's street, driving faster than she normally would on a residential road. After they arrived and helped Piper get out of the car, Mom greeted them at her front door.
“Thank God. What happened?”
“Let's get her inside first,” Jenna said, supporting her sister as they stepped through the door. They steered Piper to the living room sofa, where she plopped down, still looking confused.
“Why is she shaking like that?” Mom demanded.
“She had a vision of snow,” Jenna replied. “It’s still real to her.”
At that, Mom disappeared into another room, returning moments later with a thick quilt that she tucked around Piper's still-trembling form.
“Now,” Mom demanded, “someone tell me exactly what happened out there.”
Jenna perched on the sofa beside her sister. “Piper had a vision at the crime scene, but not about the murder we're investigating. She saw snow and blood, and talked about pricking her finger.”
“Three drops of blood in the snow,” Piper whispered, her gaze still unfocused. “White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony.”
Mom's face paled. “That sounds like—”
When she didn’t finish the sentence, Jake said, “Not Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Snow White,” Frank said, lowering himself into an armchair, his knees cracking with the movement. “I’ve read those stories to children, grandkids. The newer versions, of course.”
That’s what it had sounded like to Jenna as well. “Something about wishing for a daughter, wasn’t it?” she asked.
“Wait a minute,” Mom spoke a little sharply. “We need to get Piper settled down before we start on any stories.” She turned to Piper and asked, “Sweetheart, where did you put that brooch Jenna gave you? The one with the opal?”
Piper blinked, some clarity returning to her eyes. “In the drawer. By my bed.”
“I'll be right back,” Mom said, rising quickly and heading for the stairs.
Frank leaned forward. “Piper,” he said gently, “can you tell us more about what you saw in the woods?”
Piper's shivering had subsided slightly, but her voice was still shaky.
“It was so cold. Snow everywhere. I was sitting by a window with a black frame—ebony, I think. I was sewing something. Then I pricked my finger, and the blood... it fell into the snow. Three perfect drops.” She swallowed hard.
“It was beautiful, but then everything changed. There was a dark forest, and there was a man with a knife...”
She broke off as Mom returned, clutching something in her closed fist.
“Here,” Mom said to Piper. She opened her hand to reveal the brooch Jenna had found back in July—the ornate piece with its weathered metal and rounded opal face. “Hold this, sweetheart.”
Piper reached for the brooch. As soon as it touched her palm, she gasped softly. The change was immediate and striking—her shoulders relaxed, the shivering ceased, and color returned to her cheeks. She closed her fingers around the brooch.
“Better?” Mom asked, a knowing look in her eyes.
Piper gaze was clearer now. “Much better. How did you know?”
“Just a hunch,” Mom said, stroking Piper's hair. “That brooch has been through a lot with you. I thought maybe it might... ground you somehow.”
Jenna stared at her mother, impressed by her intuition. Led by one of her dreams, she had found that brooch herself in the well where Piper had hidden it during her time as “Emma.” It seemed to hold some power for her sister—a talisman of sorts.
“What was happening to me?” Piper asked, sitting up straighter and adjusting the quilt.
“You were describing images from the Snow White story,” Jenna explained. “The snow, the blood, the ebony sewing frame.”
Piper's brow furrowed in concentration. “I wasn't seeing the past, like with the voices of the dead. This felt... different. More immediate somehow.”
“Maybe something that hasn’t happened yet,” Jake said. “The killer might be planning something based on ‘Snow White’ next.”
Jenna suddenly remembered something. “Leith told us that the original uncensored text of the Grimm fairy tales is in the public domain now. Available online.” She turned to her mother. “Mom, do you have your laptop? We should look it up.”
“Of course,” Mom replied, already moving toward her small desk in the corner of the living room. “Here, let me get it for you.”
As Mom set up her laptop on the coffee table, Frank rose to his feet. “I'll make some tea,” he offered. “Could use something warm after all this cold talk.”
“And there are more cookies,” Mom added, following him toward the kitchen. “They should still be warm.”
Jenna pulled the laptop closer and navigated to a search engine. “Original uncensored Grimm fairy tales,” she typed, quickly finding a PDF of a translation. She opened it, then used the search function to find “Snow White.”
Jake moved to sit beside her on the sofa, their shoulders touching as they both leaned toward the screen. Piper shifted closer too, the brooch still held in her hand like a lifeline.
"There," Jenna said, finding the beginning of the story.
She began to read aloud: "'Once upon a time in midwinter, when the snowflakes were falling like feathers from heaven, a queen sat sewing at her window, which had a frame of black ebony wood.
As she sewed she looked up at the snow and pricked her finger with her needle.
Three drops of blood fell into the snow. '
Piper's sharp intake of breath was audible. “That's exactly what I saw. Exactly.”
Jenna continued reading: “'The red on the white looked so beautiful that she thought to herself, “If only I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the wood in this frame.” Soon afterward she had a little daughter who was as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as ebony wood, and therefore they called her Little Snow-White.
And as soon as the child was born, the queen died. '“
“Well, that's cheery,” Jake muttered.
"It gets worse with the new stepmother," Jenna said, skimming ahead.
She found another passage and read: "'Then the evil queen summoned a huntsman and said to him, "Take Snow White out into the woods.
I never want to see her again. Kill her, and as proof that she is dead bring her lungs and her liver back to me.
" Jenna paused, feeling her stomach turn at what came next.
"'Because Snow White was so beautiful the huntsman took pity on her, and he said, "Run away, you poor child.
" Just then a young boar came running by.
The huntsman killed it, cut out its lungs and liver, and took them back to the queen as proof of Snow-White's death.
The cook had to boil them with salt, and the wicked woman ate them, supposing that she had eaten Snow-White's lungs and liver. '"
“My God,” Jake whispered.
“She ate what she thought were a child's organs,” Mom said, her voice hollow. “These aren't the fairy tales I remember.”
“They've been sanitized over the years,” Frank said, returning with a tray of steaming mugs. “The originals were much darker.”
Jenna added, “Leith said they were meant as warnings, not bedtime stories.”
Mom went to the kitchen and returned with a plate piled high with cookies. “I used to read you girls the Disney versions,” she said, setting the plate down. “I didn’t actually know about those originals.”
Jenna continued scrolling through the text, noting the other dark elements—the queen's multiple attempts to kill Snow White, a glass coffin, and the final punishment where the evil queen was forced to dance in red-hot iron shoes until she died.
“So if our killer is planning to recreate this story,” Jake said slowly, “what elements would they use? The poisoned apple? The glass coffin?”
“Or the organ removal,” Frank added grimly. “Given what they did with the Little Red Riding Hood scene.”
Piper, who had been quiet, suddenly spoke up. “I think it's going to be the first part,” she said, her voice steady now. “The snow, the blood, the huntsman, the woods—that's what I saw most clearly. “
Jenna studied her sister, impressed by her composure.
Piper had been lost in a vision, shivering and disoriented.
Now she was actively participating in the investigation, her mind clear and focused.
The brooch seemed to have centered her somehow, allowing her to access the vision without being overwhelmed by it.
“You're incredible, you know that?” Jenna said softly.
Piper looked up, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“Most people would be falling apart after what you just experienced. But here you are, helping us make sense of it.”
A faint blush colored Piper's cheeks. “I want to help. These... visions, or whatever they are—maybe they can actually do some good.”
“They already have,” Frank assured her. “With this Snow White connection, we might have a chance to prevent the next murder.”
Jake checked his watch. “We should get back to the station, start working this angle.”
Jenna closed the laptop. “Mom, thank you for the cookies and tea. And for thinking of the brooch.”
“Keep it close,” Mom told Piper, squeezing her hand. “It seems to help.”
Piper slipped the brooch into her pocket. “I definitely will.”
After saying their goodbyes, with promises to check in later, Jenna and Jake headed back to the patrol car. As they pulled away from the house, Jenna asked Jake, “Can you get Colonel Spelling on the phone? He needs to know about this development.”
Jake pulled out his cell and placed the call, putting it on speaker as it rang.
“Spelling,” came the colonel's crisp voice.
“Colonel, it's Sheriff Graves and Deputy Hawkins again,” Jenna said. “We have new information about the case.”
“Go ahead,” Spelling replied.
Jenna explained Piper's vision at the crime scene, her reaction, and the connection they'd made to the Snow White fairy tale. "We believe the killer may be planning a murder based on this story next, possibly focusing on the queen and the huntsman scene, where the victim is taken into the woods."
Spelling was quiet for a moment. “You're certain about this connection?”
“As certain as we can be,” Jake answered.
“And this vision came from your sister?” Spelling asked carefully.
“Yes,” Jenna confirmed, knowing what he was really asking. “My sister with the... special sensitivity we've discussed previously.”
Another pause. “I see. Then we do need to take this seriously. But how? I'll alert departments in neighboring counties to be on the lookout for any suspicious activities in wooded areas. But snow? That seldom happens this early in the year.”
“I know. But I guess it could be represented in some other way.”
“That’s too vague to be useful. Have you identified any potential victims who might fit the Snow White profile?”
“Not yet,” Jenna admitted. “That's our next step. We're heading back to the station now to work out some parameters and see if we can compile a list of potential targets.”
“Keep me updated,” Spelling ordered. “And Sheriff? How is your sister dealing with all this? I hope we’re not putting her at risk.”
“We're taking precautions,” Jenna said, touched by his concern. “Right now I think she’s handling it just fine.”
After ending the call, Jenna drove in silence for a few minutes, her mind working through the events of the day.
“You okay?” Jake asked quietly.
“Just thinking about Piper. Part of me wishes I could keep her far away from all this, but another part knows she might be the key to stopping this killer.”
“She handled herself well back there,” Jake observed. “And that brooch seems to help her.”
“Yeah,” Jenna agreed. “My sister's pretty amazing, isn't she?”
As they approached the station, Jenna felt the familiar weight of responsibility—for her sister, for the investigation, for the potential victim who might even now be in a killer's sights.
But alongside that was a fierce pride in Piper, who had faced her terrifying visions and emerged stronger, determined to help.
Now they needed to find this killer before another victim's story ended in blood.