“There's another element to consider,” she said carefully.“The character in ‘Snow White’ who spares her and brings the animal organs to the queen is specifically called the huntsman.”
She watched Morgan's face, measuring her next words.“It's not a term we commonly use these days.Most people would say 'hunter.'The use of 'huntsman' is deliberate, old-fashioned—it ties directly to the fairy tale.And the same term is used for a character in the ‘Red Riding Hood’ tale that matched the murder in Trentville.”
When Morgan made no reply, she asked him, “Does that term—huntsman—mean anything to you in relation to the hunters in this area?”
Morgan's expression shifted, his eyebrows drawing together as recognition brightened his eyes.The surprise that crossed his face was genuine, his defensive posture momentarily forgotten.
“Actually,” he said slowly, “that rings a bell.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Chief Morgan's eyes narrowed, the fluorescent lights of his office casting harsh shadows across his weathered face.“So, Sheriff Graves,” he said, leaning forward with his forearms on his desk, “before I tell you why 'huntsman' rings a bell, maybe you should tell me why you think it's important.Aside from it appearing in those two fairy tales.”
“Just following a hunch,” Jenna said.The emphasis on the wordhuntsmanhad come directly from her sister—not something she could share with Morgan without inviting ridicule or worse.
Morgan expelled a long breath through his nose.“You and your hunches,” he said, shaking his head.The words carried the weight of their history—her intuitions that had proven correct too many times to dismiss, yet remained inexplicable in ways that frustrated him.“They're damned unnerving, you know that?”
He rubbed a hand across his jaw, the sound of stubble against palm audible in the quiet room.“There's a man who lives out past the eastern ridge, maybe fifteen miles from town.Named Ernest Chase.Hermit type.Hunter.”Morgan leaned back in his chair, which protested with a squeak.“Locals call him 'Mr.Huntsman' because that's what he insists on being called.Seems to fancy himself some kind of storybook character.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Not much,” Morgan admitted.“Keeps to himself mostly.Has a cabin out in the woods.Hunts deer, sells the meat in town sometimes.Bow hunting season's been open since mid-September, so he's probably active right now.”He hesitated, then continued, “Thing is, he's a bit...off.”
“Off how?”Jake asked.
Morgan gestured vaguely.“Talks about being abducted by aliens.Swears Bigfoot lives in the woods near his cabin.That kind of crazy.”He shrugged.“Harmless, in my opinion, though some folks around here call him a 'ticking bomb.'He's never hurt anybody that I know of.”
Jenna exchanged a glance with Jake.The nickname could be a coincidence.A man who chose that title could have gotten it from the same kids' books, movies, comic books, and video games that lots of people grew up with.But her sister had said the voices in her mind repeated "huntsman" with great urgency.
“We need to talk to him,” Jenna said, already rising from her chair.
Morgan's expression soured.“Based on what?A fairy tale reference and a nickname?That's thin, even for you, Graves.”
Colonel Spelling cleared his throat.“Chief Morgan, I believe Sheriff Graves' instincts warrant our attention in this matter.”
Morgan's jaw tightened, resentment clear at being outnumbered.“Fine,” he conceded, pushing himself to his feet.“But I'll approach him first.Chase can be skittish around strangers, especially law enforcement he doesn't know.Might spook him if you all go charging up to his door.”
He pulled out his phone, tapping at the screen.“I'll text you the GPS coordinates.But follow my vehicle—the road gets tricky about three miles in.”His eyes found Jenna's.“And for the record, I'm doing this under protest.If we're wasting my time and department resources on another one of your 'feelings,' I won't be happy.”
Jenna turned toward the door, not bothering to argue.The results she expected would speak louder than any defense she could offer now.
Outside, Spelling told Jenna and Jake, “You two can ride with me.”When they reached his SUV, he gestured for Jenna to take the front passenger seat and Jake climbed into the one behind her.Spelling started his vehicle and followed Morgan's as they pulled onto the main road.
“Somebody want to tell me what's really going on?”Spelling asked.“Morgan's right about one thing—this connection seems tenuous.We can’t chase down everyone who calls themselves by a name from a children’s story—”
Jenna explained, “My sister...she kept repeating 'huntsman' over and over.It felt significant to me even then.”
Spelling face betrayed no surprise.“That's difficult information to share with someone like Morgan,” he observed as they left the town limits behind, the landscape opening into rolling hills.
“I appreciate you running interference,” Jenna said, watching the scenery blur past her window.The trees grew denser as they traveled east.“Not everyone would put their reputation on the line for hunches they can't explain.”
Spelling was quiet for a moment, only the hum of tires on asphalt filling the space between them.When he finally spoke, his voice carried a note of caution.
“I don't know how long I can effectively play mediator, Graves.Sooner or later, either Morgan's going to demand answers I can't give, or my superiors are going to question why I keep backing your unorthodox methods.Just something to consider.”
She accepted the warning for what it was—not a withdrawal of support, but a realistic assessment of their precarious alliance.As they followed Morgan deeper into the woods, the trees closing in around them, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were heading toward something inevitable, a confrontation written long before they arrived.This was definitely a trip worth making.
The road narrowed, became unpaved.Gravel pinged against the undercarriage of Spelling's SUV.Ahead, Morgan's brake lights flared red as he slowed, turning onto what barely qualified as a road—more of a clearing cut through the underbrush.