“This has to be it,” Jake murmured.
Jenna felt it too—the sense of boundary crossing, of entering a space apart from the ordinary world.
The vehicles crawled to a stop in a small clearing where the trees reluctantly gave way to human habitation.Before them stood Ernest Chase's cabin—a weathered structure of dark timber and stone that seemed to have grown organically from the forest floor.Moss crept along the northern edge of the sloped roof, and a thin spiral of smoke rose from a crooked chimney. The electric line connected to the cabin seemed out of character, but even so the place had a fairytale quality to it, Jenna thought.
A woodpile stood against one wall, meticulously stacked.Nearby, a collection of antlers hung from a bare oak, bleached white by sun and time.The forest pressed close on all sides, as if waiting to reclaim the small territory ceded to human presence.The October breeze carried the mingled scents of wood smoke, decaying leaves, and something else—the metallic tang of blood.
At the sound of their approach, the cabin door swung open.A man stepped onto his porch, one hand resting on the doorframe, the other holding what appeared to be a freshly skinned rabbit.He was tall and lean, his frame suggesting wiry strength rather than bulk.A gray-streaked beard reached halfway down his chest, and beneath a prominent brow, his eyes were startlingly clear and alert.He wore canvas pants tucked into worn boots and a flannel shirt that had seen better days.
Morgan was first to exit his vehicle, raising a hand in casual greeting.Jenna watched through the windshield as the Pinecrest chief approached with deliberate slowness, his body language open and unthreatening.
“That's our cue,” Spelling said, killing the engine.
Jenna gazed around as the three of them stepped out of Spelling’s vehicle and stood their quietly, giving Morgan space to make initial contact.
“Look,” Jake whispered, and she followed his gaze.Vultures were circling over the woods a short distance away from the cabin.
“That’s not good,” she replied softly, remembering the vultures that had led them to Claudia Kingsley’s body hanging inside a bag made up like a wolf.
“Morning, Mr.Huntsman,” Morgan called, his voice carrying across the clearing.“Hope we're not disturbing you too much.”
Ernest's gaze traveled slowly from Morgan to the others, lingering on Jenna with uncomfortable intensity.His expression remained unreadable, but something in his posture shifted—a subtle tensing, like an animal registering potential danger.
“Police,” he said, neither a question nor a greeting.His voice was surprisingly soft, incongruent with his wild appearance.“I suppose you're here about the lady.”
The statement froze Morgan mid-step.Jenna felt a cold certainty washing over her.Jake moved closer to her side, his hand drifting instinctively toward his weapon.
Morgan recovered quickly.“What lady would that be, Mr.Chase?”
Ernest tilted his head, considering the question as if it puzzled him.“The sleeping one,” he said simply, as though the answer should have been obvious.“Would you like to see her?”
Jenna exchanged a glance with Spelling, whose face had hardened into a mask of professional caution.
“I think we would,” Morgan replied evenly.
Ernest turned back toward the open door.“Follow me, then.But be quiet.She needs her rest.”
Jenna's hand moved to her holster as they approached the cabin.The wooden porch creaked beneath their collective weight, the sound unnaturally loud in the forest stillness.
Inside, the cabin was a single large room with a partial loft overhead.A stone fireplace dominated one wall, its flames casting dancing shadows across rough-hewn furniture.Animal pelts adorned the walls alongside an impressive array of hunting equipment.Bows, arrows, knives, and traps hung in careful arrangement, each item meticulously maintained.A small table near the window held a collection of books, their spines cracked and worn—fairy tales, Jenna noted with a shiver, alongside survival guides and texts on taxidermy.
The air was thick with the scent of wood smoke, animal fat, and herbs hanging in bunches from the ceiling beams.
“This way,” Ernest said, moving toward a door at the rear of the cabin.He set the rabbit down on a wooden counter, wiping his bloodied hands on a cloth before reaching for the door handle.
Morgan signaled for Jenna and Jake to hang back while he and Spelling followed Ernest through the doorway.Jenna ignored the directive, moving forward with Jake at her side.Her heart pounded against her ribs, each beat a warning she couldn't ignore.
The back room was darker and cooler than the main living space.A single window let in a shaft of dusty sunlight that illuminated what appeared to be a workshop.Animal hides in various stages of preparation hung from hooks.Tools lined the walls—skinning knives, scrapers, tanning solutions.
And against the far wall stood a large chest freezer, its white surface incongruous among the rustic surroundings.A soft hum revealed its connection to that power line.
“She's in there,” Ernest said, gesturing toward the freezer with a reverent expression.
The room fell silent.Morgan looked back at Jenna, uncertainty written across his features for the first time since she'd known him.
Ernest moved to the freezer, his movements careful and deliberate.“I've been taking good care of her,” he said softly, his hand resting on the freezer's lid.“Keeping her safe until the right time.”
He lifted the lid.
