Snow Signs

by Jennifer Seet

  She approached and peered out the window, clearly seeing red in the snow. Her hand flew up to her mouth in an attempt to stifle the gasp forming in the back of her throat.

  Hurriedly, she left the room and proceeded to the bedroom. Her first order of business was to get dressed and be outside before anything happened to the fresh blood.

  * * * * *

  Excited, Claire announced over the phone, “I got another sample, Jim. There was more blood out there this morning. I scooped it up and saved it.”

  Jim listened carefully and asked her, “Did you place it in a container and put it in the freezer before the snow melted?”

  “Of course! You’re talking to another law enforcement officer, you know,” she chided him.

  He chuckled and said, “I should have known you would give me grief over that question. Besides, I was just teasing you.”

  “Yeah, I bet you were!”

  He asked her if she could come and pick him up before he went stir crazy and she readily agreed to do it.

  Before she hung up though, she informed him that she had more to tell him.

  Libby made an appearance in her dream last night and she had made notes of everything she remembered.

  She said she had some ideas of what to do next, Jim remembered.

  I wonder what those plans include.

  Claire had also hinted that she needed his assistance. He certainly hoped that he could help her. She was fast becoming a very important part of his life.

  After all these years…

  Jim slowly but cautiously got out of bed and began to get dressed.

  I just hope I can help her find Libby…and finally give them both some peace.

  * * * * *

  Someone watching saw Claire drive away.

  She didn’t even see me. But if she had, she wouldn’t have known.

  Grinning while recalling the past, the thoughts continued, it was a lucky break that the other policeman interviewed me. She might have remembered if she had been the one to come. I never had to worry before, but she had the skills. She probably would have figured it out…even with the disguise.

  Considering what had to be done, the watcher decided, if she gets too close, I’ll have to take care of it. She’s too clever and I can’t risk her finding out the truth.

  A new idea popped into mind though, think I’ll look around while she’s gone. Maybe I’ll find something.

  If so, maybe I can just disappear again. No one would know and I could move on. No loose ties. Just like before…I could fade away.

  * * * * *

  It was the middle of the morning before Chief Hennessey could finally sit down at his computer and read the summaries from the Libby Newman case.

  Many well-wishers who were unable to attend the retirement party had drifted in and out of his office for the past two hours. Some just wanted to say good-bye, but some wanted to sit and reminisce about old ‘war’ stories.

  It felt good to share, but he kept watching the clock and wondering if he would find anything of interest when he went through the information that was stored in the computer.

  But now the steady stream of visitors had slowed considerably and he was reading through the investigators’ files and looking at the pictures.

  Hmmm…her ex-husband was a trucker. The picture we have isn’t very good but he looks like he would blend in pretty well in any kind of gathering.

  In fact, I wish we had a better picture, because with this one, he’s wearing a cap and I can’t really make out any distinguishing features.

  Chief scrolled up through the pictures from the home and couldn’t find anything that looked significant.

  Nothing out of place.

  Strange that she would leave her purse. Women always take their purses with them anywhere they go! That might lead me to think she went hurriedly…not like she was planning this ahead of time.

  Marvin read through the interviews from the family, friends and co-workers. No one felt as if Libby was unhappy…just a little quiet. But, according to all of them, she was a quiet person anyway.

  Seemed a little more withdrawn than usual after the divorce, but that’s to be expected.

  A couple of them made a comment about being surprised when she married Trent. They just seemed to feel that he was not what they anticipated when Libby showed them his picture.

  He was older, but that happens.

  He was a hearing man. Maybe they thought she would marry someone who was deaf.

  Marvin scrolled back to the picture of Trent. He squinted and focused on the image. I guess women would say he was handsome…hard to tell.

  What strikes me is that his description is so typical—almost six feet tall, brown hair, brown eyes.

  Chief Hennessey sat up straight and looked at the wall across from his desk, trying to remember something that was nagging at him.

  He blinked, glanced back at the computer screen, and thought, maybe that is what’s bothering me. He is so…normal, so… ‘Everyman’ in his looks.

  Suddenly, Marvin’s expression changed as the realization hit him that that was exactly why he was pestered by the nondescript object of his scrutiny.

  And, he began the process of digging into Trent Newman’s past on a much deeper level than the investigators had ever done.

  * * * * *

  Gently, Claire took Jim by the hand and helped him out of her car. He gave her his house key so she could open the door.

  “It’s nice to have a woman care for me. It’s been a long time.”

  “Oh yeah, well don’t get too used to it.”

  He laughed and said, “I have a feeling, Claire Dungarven, that you are the kind of person who will make sure I don’t get used to it!”

  They both entered the house, chattering and trying to take their mind off the elements of mystery that had been playing out for the last few days.

  Jim collapsed into a chair while Claire busied herself putting away his medicine and other supplies from the hospital.

  At the same time that she was going to ask him where he wanted the medicine, in the kitchen or in the bathroom, the phone rang.

  Jim started to get up from his chair but Claire noticed that he still wasn’t moving too quickly.

  “Do you want me to get that?”

  He nodded his head and sat back down.

  “Hello.”

  “This is Shirley Trusty. Is Jim available?”

  “Oh, hi Shirley, this is Claire Dungarven.”

  “Hi, Claire. Sorry to hear about Jim’s accident.”

  She continued, “Is he there? I have some information I wanted to give him.”

  “Sure. Hold on. I’ll see if he can come to the phone.”

  Jim motioned for Claire to go ahead and take the message.

  “He just came home from the hospital, Shirley. Could you give me the message and I’ll relay it to him if you don’t mind.”

  “No, that’s fine. I just forgot to tell him yesterday that the blood is B positive. That’s a fairly rare type of human blood and I wanted him to know it.”

  Startled, Claire recalled from her recent readings on the investigation that Libby’s blood type was B positive.

  Taken aback by this piece of news, her voice remained calm and she didn’t let on to Shirley, “Okay, thanks for letting us know.”

  She then added, “Is there anything you can tell us about the knife?”

  “Glad you reminded me about that one. I found some fingerprints and then I checked the data base to see if I could make a match.”

  Claire grasped the phone tightly, “Did you find a match?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I did, but it was somewhat of a surprise.”

  Shirley hesitated before proceeding, “The fingerprints are connected to a missing person investigation, one I think you might have been involved with.”

  “Would it be the Libby Newman disappearance?” Claire waited for a reply, not taking a breath.

  “Why, yes it would! H
ow did you guess?”

  Claire exhaled and said, “I figured that sooner or later he would turn up.”

  Shirley paused and then quietly responded, “Who were you thinking it would be, Claire?”

  “The ex-husband, Trent Newman…I always knew he was involved…”

  Shirley interrupted her, “No, you don’t understand. It’s not Trent Newman’s fingerprints on the knife.”

  Claire looked puzzled.

  Jim watched, trying to gauge where the conversation was headed.

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Shirley. Whose fingerprints did you find on the knife?”

  “The fingerprints belonged to Libby Newman.”

  For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Claire dropped the phone.

  Jim reacted quickly, considering his injuries. He stood up carefully, walked over, and picked up the phone. He could hear Shirley in the background calling Claire’s name.

  “I’m sorry, Shirley. We’ll get back to you later.”

  Hanging up the phone, he put his arms around Claire and rubbed her neck. “Calm down. I don’t know what Shirley told you but I can tell it wasn’t good.”

  She hung on to Jim and put her head on his shoulder, “The blood type was B positive…and that is Libby’s blood type.”

  Jim said, “I know you’re upset, Claire, but we already suspected that she must have been the victim of a crime, and this just proves it.”

  “True, Jim, but it’s what else she told me that really bothers me.”

  “What did she say?”

  “The fingerprints on the knife didn’t belong to Trent Newman. They were Libby’s.”

  * * * * *

  It wasn’t that difficult to gain entry into Claire’s home. People in the lakes community were suspicious of any strangers, but recently there had been a number of houses sold to “part-timers”, neighbors who were only down for the summer or weekend.

  Therefore, residents were becoming used to seeing cars parked in driveways that typically had little traffic.

  People were beginning to recognize Claire. She had become a fixture in the neighborhood even though she hadn’t lived there that long…but not long enough to know who her friends or visitors might be.

  By the time anyone would see me or my car, I’ll be long gone, the intruder rationalized.

  Breaking the window pane in the back door and looking around to see if anyone was close by, the person was satisfied to realize that the trees hid any activity from view. Then, that individual carefully reached through the broken glass and unlocked the door.

  Cautiously, she’ll report this break-in as soon as she comes home so I’ll need to allow myself time to clean any fingerprints.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, the individual started in the kitchen, checking the cabinets and drawers.

  When that chore was completed, the interloper felt budding impatience.

  I can’t find it! It should be here in the kitchen! But, it’s not! It makes sense to put it in here, but maybe she’s hiding it in another part of the house.

  Beginning to panic, the prowler started rummaging through the other rooms, realizing this wasn’t going to be easy, leaving drawers open, dumping items on the bed, flinging papers around the office.

  Watching the clock, irrational behavior increased and resolve to be careful diminished.

  The trespasser let out a silent scream, thinking, I can’t leave here without it!

  Then, hesitating for a minute, I need to think. Where would she put it?

  That person looked out the bedroom window and tried to gather thoughts.

  Suddenly, a consideration came to mind. Maybe she hid it in the freezer. People do that because they think no one will look in a freezer.

  But, reasoning, she’s a retired detective! She’d be a little smarter than that!

  I have to look though, the individual decided, walking toward the kitchen. Can’t hurt…

  And, once in the kitchen, the intruder opened the freezer compartment and looked carefully through the food stored there.

  What is this? The individual held up a bag with some snow and something red on it.

  It’s blood!

  Turning it around and peering at it from all angles, it sure is blood!

  Wonder why anyone would keep it in their freezer?

  Making a quick decision, the thief grasped the bag and closed the door. I’ll just have to take it with me and figure it out later.

  The perpetrator hurriedly ran downstairs and out the door, carrying the bag. And, in the curiosity over seeing the bag with snow and blood in it, somebody forgot the resolve to be careful and clean up before leaving Claire’s house.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Okay, Claire, let me get this straight.” Jim leaned back in his easy chair after listening to Claire’s description of her latest dream.

  “Libby saw the flashing light on her door that alerted her to somebody knocking. She went to the door and opened it. Then, she went outside to greet this visitor, but you didn’t see the person in the dream, right?”

  “No, and that is a concern to me because she never did show me who it was. She kept the identity a secret…and I don’t know why. If someone took her, why didn’t she reveal it to me in the dream?”

  Jim hesitated before replying, “Let’s not worry about that for now because we’re not even sure what happened to her yet. But if she showed you this sequence in a dream, what would be her motivation?”

  Claire threw up her hands before placing them on her knees, “I don’t know, Jim. That’s what doesn’t make sense to me!”

  “Continue on with the details. Let’s see if I can help you,” he requested.

  Claire cleared her throat and began again, “She left with someone that night. It seemed as if she knew who it was because her expression was one of familiarity. She followed this ‘somebody’ to a location where there was a power utility substation close to her house.

  We already knew that because the footprints led to this location,” Claire explained. “The shoeprint impression left in my yard was probably referring to this part.”

  She added, “But I didn’t know what happened next, and Libby gave me more information in the dream.”

  Jim motioned for Claire to resume.

  “She showed me a motorcycle. She got on the back and took off with whoever was driving the bike.”

  “At the time we thought a male was involved with Libby’s disappearance because we have the larger shoeprints and they match a type and brand of shoe that is popular with guys, but other than that, we have nothing else,” Claire ended.

  Jim asked, “In the dream did she show you where they went?”

  “Yes, but most of what I could see was water. She indicated that she was close to a body of water,” Claire replied. “That explains the water in my yard…”

  He interrupted, “Could you tell, from what you saw, where this place might be?”

  “I’m not sure but I might be able to locate it,” Claire answered.

  She wavered before continuing, “I think I recognized the surroundings. It might be close to Pine Lake.”

  Jim gave her a questioning stare.

  She explained, “There were a lot of pine trees in the background. My Dad used to take me fishing there. He…”

  Persevering, Jim said, “Focus on the dream, Claire. Just think about what she showed you.”

  Deep in thought now, Claire added, “and there was a short but overgrown path, leading to a dock. The dock was pretty rickety. There was an old canoe, tipped up on its side, next to the dock. Grass was growing up around it, like it had been there for a while. She…she looked at the water, but then she extended her arm and pointed to the trees.”

  By way of explanation, Claire said, “All in all there are some pretty remote areas around that lake…”

  “I’m familiar with Pine Lake,” Jim said. “I think we could find it, with those details, and both of us looking.

  He ask
ed, “Would you want to go and scout around?”

  Claire paused and then replied, “I want to check it out, Jim, but first I have some other questions that are bothering me…and they need to be answered before we can move forward.”

  “What questions, Claire?”

  “Well, for starters, I want to know why she came to me in a dream. Why would she do that if she’s still alive?”

  Jim shook his head, “That’s something I can’t answer either.”

  Claire continued in a rush, “Because if she’s alive, why wouldn’t she just write, call, or come and see me? If she’s being held against her will, how could she still be alive after all this time? What is the significance of this place near water? Why the blood? And, finally, how can someone who is dead leave fingerprints on a knife?”

  At this barrage of questions, Jim threw his hands up, as stumped by the incongruity of the findings as Claire was.

  She looked at him, “Where is she? What happened to her? She’s left out all the answers to the most burning questions.”

  He stared back at her before lowering his head, “I don’t know, Claire, but I think I know someone who might be able to help if you want to go and see her.”

  “If someone has information that can help us find Libby, I’m all for it!”

  Puzzled, she continued, “Why didn’t you say something before?

  He sat there with his head down, hands clasped together, not answering.

  Restlessly, she asked him another question, “Who is this person you’re talking about?”

  Jim grimaced but said, “You might laugh at me when you hear what I’m about to say, but give it a chance.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Claire looked at him quizzically.

  “Her name is Lynn Brookmeier. Have you ever heard of her?”

  “No, should I?”

  “Maybe,” he paused, “but I don’t know if you’ll want to talk to her.”

  “For God’s sake, Jim,” she replied rather quickly. “Why wouldn’t I want to talk to her if she has information about Libby?”

  “Well, there’s one thing you need to know…,” he wavered as if he was considering how best to answer her.