“What kind of personal things?”Jake asked.
“That's the worst part.Earlier that evening, before they left for the forest, Gregory had them all write down their deepest insecurities on slips of paper, things they'd never told anyone.”
Bridget's voice hardened with anger."He collected them, read them all, then said he was redistributing them randomly, but he only gave them to Claudia.So the things they whispered...about her failing marriage, about feeling inadequate as a teacher, about her deepest fears...were her own thoughts being spoken back to her."
“My God,” Jake muttered.
"The final part was the worst.Gregory instructed them all to go completely silent, to back away from her, but remain in a circle.Then he approached her himself.He stood directly behind Claudia and whispered in her ear—loud enough for everyone to hear—that he could see through her, that everyone could see her weakness, her fraudulence.He told her that her husband had left because he finally saw the emptiness inside her."Bridget's voice trembled."Then he reached up and took off her mask, but told her not to turn around.He made her stand there, exposed, while the others remained masked and silent.”
“How did it end?”Jenna asked quietly.
“Claudia broke.Just like Ellen did today.She collapsed to her knees, sobbing.Gregory announced that 'the transformation was complete' and declared the exercise a success.He instructed everyone to remove their masks and return to the cars.Claudia could barely walk—one of the other students had to help her back through the forest.”
“And she quit the class after that?”Jake asked.
“The next morning.She called me in hysterics.Said she'd never been so humiliated, so terrified in her life.She said Gregory had 'stripped her bare' in front of everyone.”Bridget's eyes met Jenna's.“I told her she could report him to the theater board, but she just wanted to forget it ever happened.”
Jenna opened her mouth to ask another question, but a familiar voice cut through the theater's quiet.
“Are you accusing me of murder, Bridget?”
Gregory Ashton stood just inside the door he’d left through, hands thrust casually in his pockets.Jenna cursed herself for not hearing him enter.Bridget's face drained of color.
“How—how long have you been standing there?”she stammered.
“Long enough.”Gregory walked up the center aisle toward them.“I'm curious what prompted this little unauthorized interview with my staff.”
“Mr.Ashton—” Jake began.
“I'm only telling them something I thought they should know,” Bridget interrupted, her voice unsteady.“Claudia was murdered.”
“So I've heard.”Gregory seemed detached, almost bored.“And naturally, you've decided my acting techniques somehow connect to this tragedy.”He gave a small, dismissive laugh.“The exercise in the forest was a standard method for breaking down inhibitions.Claudia's reaction was stronger than most, I'll admit, but that's the point of experimental theater—to push boundaries, to force confrontation with one's authentic self.”
He stopped a few feet away from them, his focus shifting to Jenna.“Theatrical training isn't for the faint of heart, Sheriff.It requires dismantling the artificial constructs of the self.”His smile widened slightly.“Something I suspect you understand quite well, given your profession.”
Jenna met his gaze steadily, feeling the calculated performance in his every word and gesture.“We're investigating a murder, Mr.Ashton.Every detail matters.”
“Of course,” he said with exaggerated understanding, then he turned to Bridget.“You're late for the design meeting.The set won't build itself.”
Bridget hesitated, looking between Gregory and the officers.
“Go on,” Jenna said.“Thank you for your time.”
Bridget gathered her bag, casting a final apologetic glance their way before heading toward the side door.Gregory didn't move, watching her leave before turning back to Jenna and Jake.
“In the future,” he said, his voice dropping to a colder register, “I'd appreciate it if you'd notify me before speaking with any of my staff.I'll need to contact my lawyer if this continues.”
“Is there some reason you feel you need a lawyer, Mr.Ashton?”Jake asked.
Gregory's smile remained fixed.“In today's world, Sheriff, everyone needs a lawyer.Especially artists who dare to push boundaries in backward little towns.Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a theater to run.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned and followed the same path Bridget had taken, disappearing through the side door.
Jenna and Jake stood in silence for a moment, the empty theater suddenly feeling colder, more ominous.
“Well,” Jake said finally, flipping his notebook closed.“That wasn't suspicious at all.”
“He came back to check on what Bridget was saying,” Jenna noted as they made their way to the main exit.“He was worried about something.”
