Her voice cracked on the last word, and Jenna felt a pang of empathy.Death never arrived conveniently, never waited for the world to be ready.
“You knew her well?”Jake prompted gently.
“My son Tommy was in her class two years ago.My daughter Lily is in it now.”A trembling smile crossed her lips.“They both adore her.She has —had— this way with children...she could get through to the quiet ones, calm the rowdy ones.Lily is going to be devastated.I don't even know how to tell her.”
“Was Claudia well-liked among the other teachers?”Jenna asked.
“Everyone respected her,” Bridget said, wiping quickly at her eyes.“She was private, but kind.She belonged to the same reading group I do, at the Dénouement Café.”She glanced up at Jenna.“Do you know it?”
“The bookstore-café downtown?”Jenna knew it well—a labyrinth of shelves and cozy nooks nestled in a converted Victorian house.“Leith Walsh's place.”
A genuine smile appeared on Bridget's face.“That's right.Leith is...an experience.”
“That's one way to put it,” Jake said, returning the smile.
Jenna had met Leith Walsh a handful of times—a woman who wore flowing scarves regardless of the season, quoted obscure poetry without warning, and was rumored to have a precise system of organizing books that only made sense to her.Eccentric barely scratched the surface.
“The reading group meets there once a week,” Bridget continued.“Claudia joined about three months ago.She always had the most interesting interpretations of the texts...”Her voice trailed off, her expression hardening slightly.“But that's not what I wanted to tell you about.”
With another glance back at the side door where Gregory Ashton had left, she squared her shoulders as if bracing herself.
“I think you should know why Claudia is no longer Gregory's student.”Bridget's voice dropped lower, though the theater was empty except for the three of them.“Something happened last week.Something...disturbing.”
Jenna leaned forward slightly.“Go on.”
Bridget took a deep breath.“Gregory scheduled what he called a 'special session' for his advanced acting class—the one Claudia was in.He told us to meet him here at the theater at eleven at night last Thursday.”
“Eleven at night?”Jake's pen paused above his notepad.
“He said artists needed to embrace the 'witching hours'—that true creativity only emerges when conventional constraints are left behind.”Bridget rolled her eyes.“It's the kind of dramatic nonsense he's always spouting, but some of the students eat it up.They think he's giving them access to some special New York theater wisdom.”
“What happened at this special session?”Jenna prompted.
“When they arrived, Gregory didn't even let them into the theater.He had everybody pile into two cars.We drove to Whispering Pines Forest.”
Jake and Jenna exchanged a glance.
“The park closes at sunset,” Jake noted.
"Gregory said rules were for ordinary people, not artists.We parked at the maintenance entrance, where there's no gate, and hiked about half a mile in with just flashlights.Gregory had the students form a circle in this small clearing.It was dark—no moon that night."
As Bridget continued, her disgust was evident.“He'd brought a bag with him, and he took out several black masks, the kind that cover your whole face except the eyes and a small opening for the mouth.He made each student put one on.Everyone except Claudia.For her, he'd brought something different—a white mask, stark white, with just these slits for the eyes and mouth.He told the class they were going to perform an exercise called 'The Judgment of Persephone.'He said Claudia had been chosen to play Persephone because she was 'too controlled,' and needed to experience genuine fear.”
Jenna felt something cold and familiar—the recognition of calculated cruelty.
Bridget's voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.“The others in their black masks had to surround Claudia.They were instructed to move slowly around her, just whispering her name.Gregory told them not to let her leave the circle, no matter what.Claudia tried to laugh it off at first.But Gregory said that 'resistance only proves the necessity of the exercise.'“
“Did anyone else object?”Jenna asked.
Bridget shook her head.“They're desperate for his approval.He's constantly telling them that only one or two have real talent, that the rest are wasting his time.They compete for his praise like it's oxygen.No one has ever resisted like Ted did today.”
“What happened next?”Jake asked, his pen moving quickly now.
“Gregory stood outside the circle, directing.He told the students in black masks to move closer, then closer still.He instructed them to reach out and touch Claudia—just briefly, just on her shoulders or arms—then withdraw.Claudia said it was like being touched by ghosts.”Bridget swallowed hard.“Then Gregory had them start chanting, 'You deserve this, Persephone.You've earned this judgment.'“
Jenna could visualize the scene—the dark forest, the masked figures, the isolation and fear.“How long did this go on?”
“Almost an hour.Claudia started crying about twenty minutes in, begged Gregory to stop.He told her this was 'authentic emotion' finally breaking through her 'suburban housewife facade.'He kept pushing, telling her to access deeper fears, to surrender to the experience.He told the others to whisper things to her—personal things.”