Page 13 of In Her Fears (Jenna Graves #8)

The chill inside the hunting lodge seemed to penetrate Jenna’s bones as she stepped back through the weathered doorway. Melissa Stark’s team had already taken Alexis’s body down from the rafters, laying her with clinical care on a black body bag spread across the uneven wooden floor.

The young woman’s limbs had been arranged with dignity, her pale blue sundress smoothed over her legs, but nothing could erase the horror of what had been done to her. Jenna forced herself to look directly at Alexis’s face—the server who had always remembered her coffee order, now forever silenced.

Jake stepped in behind her, his presence solid and reassuring. The team of technicians moved efficiently around the scene, photographing, measuring, and collecting trace evidence from the dusty floorboards.

“Sheriff,” Melissa called, beckoning Jenna closer to where she knelt beside Alexis’s body. “You need to see this.”

Jenna crossed to her, careful to avoid disturbing any evidence. The coroner’s latex-gloved hands gently tilted Alexis’s head to expose her neck. A thin, angry line encircled her throat, the skin abraded and discolored where it had been broken.

“This is what killed her,” Melissa said, her voice professional but tinged with unmistakable anger. “Strangulation with some kind of thin wire—the same wire, I believe, that was used to suspend her by the wrists.”

Jake crouched down for a better look. “So she was already dead when she was hung from the rafters?”

“Yes,” Melissa confirmed. “Livor mortis patterns confirm she died in a different position than how she was found. She was strangled elsewhere, then brought here and... displayed.”

Displayed, Jenna thought bitterly. Like an exhibit. Like a work of art.

“There’s something else,” Melissa added, carefully lifting one of Alexis’s hands. “Defensive wounds. She fought back.”

Jenna nodded, feeling a surge of grim pride for the young woman. She hadn’t gone quietly.

“Any new thoughts on the time of death?” she asked.

"My assessment hasn't changed. Between 10 PM and midnight last night, based on body temperature and livor mortis. I'll have a more precise window after the autopsy."

That aligned with when Alexis had last texted Ryan from her backyard. Whatever had happened had occurred shortly afterward.

Melissa looked up at Jenna, her professional demeanor momentarily giving way to curiosity. “Sheriff, what did you mean earlier when you said, ‘He’s making his masterpieces’?”

The question caught Jenna off guard. She’d barely realized she’d spoken that thought aloud. The coroner was watching her with shrewd interest, waiting for an explanation that Jenna wasn’t sure how to provide.

“I—” Jenna hesitated, calculating how much to reveal.

She knew that Melissa, like Colonel Spelling, had observed her unconventional insights too many times to dismiss them as coincidence.

There was an unspoken understanding between them—Melissa never directly questioned how Jenna knew certain details about victims or crime scenes, and Jenna never volunteered that information.

It was a professional courtesy that had served them both well.

“It’s just a theory I’m developing,” Jenna finally said, choosing her words with care. “Something about the staging feels... deliberate. Theatrical.”

Melissa’s eyes narrowed slightly. She opened her mouth to press further, but the lodge door swung open with a protesting creak, saving Jenna from having to elaborate.

Colonel Spelling stepped inside, his tall frame momentarily silhouetted against the morning light streaming through the doorway. His face, normally composed, registered a brief flash of shock as he took in the scene before him.

“Colonel,” Jenna acknowledged, straightening up from her position near the body. “Thank you for coming.”

Spelling's gaze moved from the body to the wires still hanging from the rafters where she had been suspended. "Fill me in, Sheriff."

“Victim is Alexis Downey, twenty-three, waitress at the Sunflower Café in Trentville,” Jenna reported, slipping into the familiar rhythm of professional briefing.

“Her roommate reported her missing this morning. The roommate initially assumed Alexis was staying with her boyfriend, but when she called him, he hadn’t seen her either. ”

She gestured toward the rafters. “The body was discovered hanging there approximately ninety minutes ago by a hiker—Grant Mosher, insurance adjuster from Trentville, regular on these trails. He’s still outside with one of the forest service deputies if you want to speak with him.”

“Cause of death?” Spelling asked, addressing Melissa directly.

“Strangulation with wire,” the coroner replied, indicating the ligature mark on Alexis’s neck. “She was killed elsewhere, then brought here and suspended from the rafters post-mortem.”

Spelling absorbed this information with a grim nod. “When we spoke on the phone, Sheriff, you mentioned similarities to the Holbrook case.”

“Yes,” Jenna confirmed, steeling herself for skepticism.

"I'm not seeing it," Spelling said, his tone neutral rather than dismissive. "Holbrook was found in a cemetery, staked through the heart while seated against a tree. This victim was strangled, then hanged in an abandoned building. Different MO, different staging, different locations."

For a moment, Jenna wondered what to say. She couldn’t mention her dream last night. But then there was the woman’s cryptic statement: “Find him, before he makes another masterpiece.”

Without a doubt, they were in the presence of that intended masterpiece right now.

“They’re both composed like works of art,” Jenna said quietly.

Something in Spelling’s expression shifted, a flash of recognition lighting his eyes. “Elaborate.”

“Both scenes were meticulously staged,” Jenna explained, gaining confidence as she organized her thoughts.

“Holbrook, tied to the tree with the stake through his heart and the pentagram carved above him—that was like a scene from a gothic horror movie. And this...” She gestured toward where Alexis had hung.

“This is different, but equally theatrical. Both victims were positioned to be found, to create maximum impact on whoever discovered them.”

“The killer wants an audience,” Jake added, following Jenna’s reasoning.

Spelling rubbed his chin, considering. “So we’re potentially looking at a serial killer who views murder as a form of…what…artistic expression?”

“That’s my working theory, yes,” Jenna confirmed.

“Would someone please tell me what you’re all talking about?” Melissa interjected, her frustration evident. “What Holbrook case?”

Spelling reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew his phone. After a few taps, he handed it to the coroner. "Martin Holbrook, forty-three, was found in Pinecrest Cemetery exactly one month ago.”

Melissa studied the screen, her professional composure momentarily cracking as she took in the image of Holbrook’s body tied to the tree, the wooden stake protruding from his chest.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, swiping through several photos before handing the phone back to Spelling. “And you think the same person did this?”

“It’s a working theory,” Spelling replied. “I called Sheriff Graves to Pinecrest when it happened, hoping she might see something we missed.” He glanced at Jenna. “Unfortunately, even her remarkable insights failed to produce a lead at that time.”

“Colonel,” Melissa said, her voice dropping slightly, “if Sheriff Graves is right about this, if we are dealing with a serial killer, we’re faced with the possibility that these two murders won’t be the end of it.”

“Agreed,” Spelling said grimly. “Sheriff, do you have any new insights now that we’ve potentially connected these cases?”

Jenna hesitated. What could she say? That a dead woman had warned her of what was about to happen, to no avail? That she’d been too slow to interpret the warning, too late to save Alexis?

“I believe the killer probably sees himself as an artist,” she said carefully. “These aren’t just murders to him—they’re creations. And artists rarely stop at one or two works.”

Before anyone could respond, Jenna’s phone rang. She checked the screen—Mike Donovan—and answered, putting it on speaker so the others could hear.

“Donovan, you’re on speaker with me, Deputy Hawkins, Colonel Spelling, and Dr. Stark. What have you got?”

“Sheriff,” Donovan’s voice came through clearly. “We found something near the Downey residence. Looks like there was a struggle in the crawlspace under a nearby vacant house. We’re bagging everything for evidence now.”

Jenna exchanged a glance with Jake, who nodded in silent agreement. “Good work, Donovan,” she said. “Keep us updated.”

The call ended with a click, leaving an uneasy silence in its wake. Jenna looked around at the others gathered in the dimly lit lodge.

“Why would this young woman go into a crawl space?” Jake wondered aloud.

“Some kind of bait or enticement, maybe,” Spelling said.

“If that’s what happened, we’re dealing with an especially cunning killer,” Jake said.

Spelling folded his arms across his chest, his expression grim. “Holbrook was killed on the last night of the full moon cycle last month,” he mused aloud.

“And last night was only the first of this month’s three full moon nights,” Jake added, frowning.

Jenna felt a chill run down her spine. “Which means there’s a possibility we’re looking at another murder tonight—and potentially another after that. But we still don’t know how they’re selected.”

Melissa’s eyes widened slightly as she absorbed this information. “So you need to act fast.”

“Agreed,” Spelling said.

Silence settled over the lodge as they processed the direness of the situation.

“I’ll contact Chief Morgan,” Spelling said finally. “He needs to know that Holbrook’s murder is part of something larger than just his jurisdiction.”

Spelling pulled out his phone, dialing Chief Morgan’s number. He set the call to speakerphone so everyone could hear the conversation unfold. “Morgan,” he began, his voice firm and direct, “I’ve got Sheriff Graves and Deputy Hawkins on this call, and also the Genesius County coroner.”

“What’s this all about?”

“I need your cooperation on something big. We’ve got a developing situation.”

There was a pause before Morgan’s gruff voice crackled through the speaker. “What kind of situation are we talking about here, Spelling?”

“A serial killer,” Spelling replied bluntly. “Holbrook’s murder likely wasn’t an isolated incident. We have another victim—Alexis Downey. Female, twenty-three years old, found dead this morning in a manner that suggests the same killer.”

Morgan’s voice came back, tinged with disbelief. “You’re saying there’s a connection between Holbrook and this new case?”

“We think so,” Spelling confirmed. “Both scenes were staged almost like performances meant to be discovered. You know how Holbrook was posed. Our latest victim was strangled and suspended from the rafters of an abandoned lodge. Both victims were positioned deliberately.”

“The crime scenes sound different to me,” Morgan said. “Are you sure the killings are connected?”

“I’m sure of it,” Jenna put in. “It appears he’s treating these murders like works of art—masterpieces in his twisted mind.”

A silence fell. Jenna sensed Morgan’s unspoken discomfort with her input—hardly a surprise.

Spelling pressed on, not waiting for Morgan to catch up. “We’re looking at a serial killer who might strike again during this full moon cycle. We need to pool our resources and expand our jurisdictional boundaries if we’re going to stop him.”

Morgan finally spoke, his tone more cooperative now. “Alright, Spelling. What do you need from me?”

“Full cooperation with our investigation,” Spelling replied promptly. “We’ll coordinate efforts between your department and mine to ensure we cover all bases.”

“We need to keep communication open,” Jenna added. “Time is of the essence here, and every detail counts.”

“I’m on board,” Morgan said after a moment’s consideration. “Let’s catch this monster before he claims another victim.”

The call ended with a click.

Melissa rose from beside Alexis’s body. “I need to get her to the morgue. The autopsy may give us more to work with.”

“Of course,” Jenna agreed. “Please call me as soon as you have anything.”

As Melissa’s team prepared to transport the body, Jenna felt the adrenaline that had kept her going ebbing, leaving her light-headed and unsteady. She blinked hard, trying to clear the fog from her vision.

For a moment, the hunting lodge seemed to fade around her, replaced by the endless field of blank canvases from her dream.

They loomed in the darkness, floating, waiting for the splash of crimson that would transform them into grotesque art.

Again, she detected the smell of turpentine and linseed oil.

The woman's voice echoed in her mind: "Find him, before he makes another masterpiece. "

“Jenna? You okay?” Jake’s voice cut through the vision, his hand warm on her elbow, steadying her.

She blinked again, and the lodge snapped back into focus—the weathered logs, the dusty floor, the team carefully zipping Alexis into a body bag.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically, though they both knew it wasn’t true.

Spelling was speaking with one of the evidence technicians, his back to them. Jenna took the opportunity to step closer to Jake, lowering her voice.

“I know where we need to go next,” she said, forcing her body to straighten up, to get on with the hunt.