Claire gestured her hands toward him in an impatient manner and said, “Out with it! What?”
“She’s a… psychic.”
* * * * *
Captain Marvin Hennessey hung up the phone and stared at his desk.
I can’t imagine a trucking company that would hire someone, have that person work for them for years, and not know any background. That’s just crazy!
He sighed, but unfortunately it happens all the time. And now, it’s making information more difficult to come by.
He smiled when he remembered what he had told Claire recently. She’ll tease me unmercifully when she finds out how hard I’m working on this…and I just retired!
Shaking his head, state police are a bunch of workaholics and they don’t know how to retire!
He put on his glasses and prepared to do more research on the computer.
Funny thing…This Trent Newman seems to have no past. According to the personnel director at Landry trucking company, Mr. Newman just showed up one day and they gave him a job. At least that’s what it sounded like.
Chief Hennessey remembered the request he made over the phone.
About that time the fax number rang and he hoped that it was the information he had asked for.
If there’s anything helpful in his records, it will show up in the application he submitted when he first began working there…or at least give me a starting point, because right now I’ve hit a roadblock.
Marvin thought back to the information he had read in the police reports so far. Evidently this Newman character didn’t make a good impression on Libby’s family or friends. At least he didn’t share much information about himself. According to them, he did say he was adopted and his adoptive parents were dead; no brothers or sisters; no previous marriages that we know about.
He collected the papers from the fax machine and started to read. Has worked at Landry Trucking for seven years; good record there so far, according to the contact…
Suddenly he shot up in his chair as he read over the list of references that Trent Newman had written on his resume.
Claire Dungarven! Why would he have Claire listed as a reference?
This is getting very strange! I think I’d better call that personnel director back and ask him if they ever checked his references. How would Trent Newman know Claire?
* * * * *
As the intruder sped away from Claire’s house, a fog-like substance began to grow and take shape. It evolved slowly into an ethereal being, watching and waiting in the woods, wishing for her to come back home.
Not much time left.
The ghostly figure seemed to bend in response to the wind in the trees.
I need to tell the whole story.
Hidden, the spirit blended in with the snowy backdrop so well that anyone who happened to look out their window or drive by in a car would think that the wind had picked up the snow and made it dance in the icy afternoon sunlight.
It has to be soon or they won’t find me. Someone is making sure of that!
The wisp seemed to respond more fervently as agitation grew.
What am I going to do now? The clue is gone!
The white form fluttered, acknowledging the chilly breeze, or maybe was it fear? Growing dread? Or, a feeling of hopelessness?
I must lead them to my place.
* * * * *
“A psychic!” Claire exclaimed. “You think a psychic can help me with this case?” Exasperatedly she ran her fingers through her hair while staring down Jim.
“Now Claire, it’s just a suggestion,” he responded.
She plunged ahead, oblivious to his attempt to explain, “I can’t believe you would want me to see a psychic!”
She continued, a little calmer, “It’s just that I didn’t expect that from you…but I can see what you’re telling me.”
Claire considered the idea and the possibility of discovering new information about the case.
“You know what, you might have something there,” she reluctantly agreed.
She walked in circles around the living room, “If she is dead, Libby might come through, with the help of this psychic, and tell us more. And, if she’s still alive, maybe Lynn can help us find her.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Claire,” Jim replied.
She looked at him and asked, “Have you used her before…on a case I mean.”
Jim grinned as he answered her question, “Yes, I’ve used her before on a case and she proved to be very helpful.”
“Well, are you going to tell me about it?” She put her hands on her hips and planted herself in front of the chair Jim was sitting in.
He took a deep breath before answering, “About eight years ago we had a suspicious fire here in the Conservancy. Do you remember hearing about that, Claire?”
She nodded affirmatively and motioned for him to continue.
“We found a body in the ruins. It was burned badly—beyond recognition.” Jim stopped talking and grimaced at the tragic details and horrible images of the story that the recollections brought up.
He shook his head glumly and resumed speaking, “We presumed it was the owner, but after checking through his background, we found bad credit; he was about to lose his house; his finances were a disaster. By that time, his wife had cremated what was left of the remains and buried the urn in the family plot. Therefore, DNA wasn’t available and besides, testing wasn’t as sophisticated as it is now.”
“That happens, but what made you think it wasn’t him?”
“We heard rumors of sightings, after the fire, around the county. But you know how people can be. They think they see someone and then it pans out not to be true.”
“But, people who knew him were hinting that he might have planned what looked like his own death. He probably thought he could collect on the life insurance, with the help of the wife, who was home at the time of the fire and ran to the neighbors for help.”
Jim added, “She was acting very suspiciously too.”
“How so?”
“Well, she rented a small place in a rural area, but stayed in the county after the fire. When we would go out to talk with her, she never let us in the house. She’d always see us coming and walk out on the porch to speak with us,” Jim explained.
“Of course, a lot of people who live here have a distrusting attitude toward the police, but she seemed extra cautious.”
“Did you ever see him yourself?”
“No, but we couldn’t ignore the rumors that were running rampant, so we decided to take a more drastic approach.”
“And you called on this Lynn Brookmeier,” Claire added.
“Exactly, and we were surprised at the answers she gave us.”
“What did she tell you?”
Jim leaned forward in the chair, “She told us that he was not dead.”
Claire raised her eyebrows at this revelation, “Was she able to tell you where he might be?”
“Unfortunately, she wasn’t getting enough clear information to tell us his location.”
He stopped, as if remembering something, and then proceeded, “Lynn said she was seeing him, but the picture was murky and confusing; she couldn’t get a distinct image of where he was.” Jim felt a nagging sensation pricking at his consciousness, just out of reach.
“I remember reading in the newspaper about the search to find him, but can’t recall hearing anything about that piece of the puzzle. Didn’t the wife file to have him declared legally dead last year?”
The uneasy feeling Jim had began to fade as he concentrated on the question and replied, “Yes, and we had to give up our search. Haven’t had reports of any sightings since those initial ones. He just evaporated into thin air; she’s gone too; she moved to Tennessee and we haven’t heard anything from her since she had him declared legally dead, just vanished…no one knows where she is now. Maybe they’re together again, but we’d probably have to showcase it on “America’s Most Wanted” to get
any new leads on their whereabouts,” Jim surmised.
“Sounds frustrating,” Claire replied.
“Extremely, because we’ve lost track of both of them.”
“Very cunning,” she said, “but one of these days you’ll find them. He can’t hide forever.”
“That’s what we’re hoping,” Jim agreed.
Claire sat down on the couch, thought about what Jim had told her, and decided, “Okay, I’ll go see Lynn. Maybe she can at least tell me if Libby is dead or alive. It’s worth a shot,” she reasoned.
Jim pointed to the kitchen, “I have her phone number in my address book. It’s in the kitchen next to the phone. Could you bring it to me?”
Claire stood up and walked over to the kitchen while responding, “Sure, but I really want you to go with me. Do you feel well enough to do it if she says to come over today?”
He nodded and said, “I think we’d better, as soon as possible.” His expression was disquieting.
“Are you sure? You don’t look good, Jim.”
“Yes,” he told her, “In fact, I have a real sense of urgency.”
He frowned as he tried to focus on the bothersome impressions that were filling his mind again, and hesitated before telling her the next part, “Libby wants us to know the truth.”
Chapter Eighteen
“So, you didn’t check any of the references provided on the application form?”
“Yes, Captain Hennessey, that’s right,” the voice on the other end of the phone responded. “We needed someone right away and he had the experience so we hired him.”
“Haven’t been disappointed either. He’s been a good employee,” the personnel director, Mr. Cane, added somewhat defensively.
Marvin rubbed his forehead, trying to prevent the headache that was forming from becoming any worse. “So, you wouldn’t know if he mentioned this Claire Dungarven to you personally. Or, do you ever overhear him talking about her?
“Nope, can’t say I do. Of course, he isn’t in the office much. I don’t get many opportunities to talk to him. Plus,” he added, “He’s not much of a talker, pretty much a loner, doesn’t have many friends that I know of.”
“Any family?”
“No…,” Mr. Cane paused as if considering whether to bring something up or not, then he continued, “He used to bring up his wives, but now that they are both gone, he doesn’t talk about family.”
Marvin grasped the phone tighter; a breath caught in his throat. “What do you mean his wives?” The knuckles on his right hand grew whiter as he increased his hold on the receiver. “His wife, Libby Newman, disappeared four years ago but she was his only wife.”
Surprised, Mr. Cane responded, “Didn’t you know he was married before? I always thought it was strange that a man could lose two wives in the same way.”
Chief felt his heart skip a beat as he asked, “He lost two wives in the same way?”
“They both disappeared; he told me. Up and left him. I kinda’ felt sorry for him; some of the other guys did too when I told them, but he didn’t mention it again. It was like he regretted telling me. Guess he felt embarrassed that two women would leave him like that.”
Marvin interrupted him, “Mr. Cane, I think we need to talk in person. Could I come and see you?”
“You mean now?”
“Yes, the sooner the better,” Chief Hennessey replied, hanging up the phone.
* * * * *
A blast of cold air hit Claire and Jim as they exited the back door of his house. Briskly, they walked to the car, partly due to the cold, but also because of their growing excitement at the prospect of visiting Lynn Brookmeier.
When Claire opened the car door for Jim, she noticed the anguished look on his face and tenderly asked, “Are you sure you want to do this today? We could wait until tomorrow. I can call her back.”
Jim shook his head adamantly, “No, we need to see her today.” He grimaced before continuing, “I’m not clear why, but I get the feeling that we need to hurry.”
He held onto a bottle of water as he climbed into Claire’s car. Clasping the seatbelt on, he fished a pain pill out of his jacket pocket and gulped it down with a drink of the liquid.
Worriedly, Claire glanced over at him as she sat behind the wheel and put on her seatbelt. “Are you hurting?”
Jim pushed aside her concern but answered, “I’m only taking one of these because I want to be sharp when we hear what she has to say.”
He motioned for her to start the car.
Claire turned the key and put the car in reverse, all the while sneaking anxious peeks at Jim. “Lynn said to bring something of Libby’s for her to inspect, right?”
Jim nodded his head, pain evident on his face.
“Since we’re in a hurry, I’ll stop by and get the blood out of the freezer,” Claire said. “We know it’s her blood type; chances are it’s hers; and maybe Lynn can pick up on something using that.”
“Otherwise,” she continued, “we would have to drive to Frederick again.”
Jim waved his hand dismissively, “Not enough time for that. Just use the blood. Something tells me it’s hers too.”
Claire looked at him strangely and started to say something, but decided to let it drop.
“I’m sorry, Claire,” Jim finally said, “It’s just that I keep getting this persistent feeling that we don’t have much time left.”
“Time for what? Time to get the case solved?”
Faltering, “I think Libby is sending us a message.”
“What kind of message?”
Jim replied, “I think she’s trying to tell us that we need to find her and solve this case before someone else disappears…or is murdered.”
* * * * *
The bag of snow, covered with blood stains, sat on the passenger car seat; the driver stole numerous glances at it.
Whose blood is it?
The individual, who was also the sole occupant of the car, strived to keep attention on the road while uneasily pondering this question.
She’s a retired police officer. Maybe it was in the freezer as evidence in a crime.
Uncertainty set in at this suggestion and creased lines appeared around the mouth and on the forehead.
But why would she have evidence in her own freezer? Usually they store it at a crime lab.
Eyebrows shot up. And, not to forget, she’s retired now. Why put blood in your freezer if not for a case you’re working on currently?
“It just doesn’t make sense!” The sentiment spoken aloud contributed to the car’s occupant temporarily losing concentration. A horn brought back full attention as instinct caused the driver to turn the wheel sharply to the right, narrowly missing another car coming in the opposite direction.
Taking a stab at wry humor, I’m reacquainting myself with the ‘local’ bad habits, crossing the center line, oblivious to oncoming traffic.
Frowning, but remembering to be cautious, it wouldn’t do me any good to be stopped by the Conservancy police…especially with this bag and its contents sitting in my front seat!
The person in the car then had another thought, why hang onto it? What good does it do me to keep it?
In fact, a sudden realization hit, why did I take it? I need to get rid of it! I don’t want even a hint of suspicion to lead them to me!
Proceeding out of the lakes area, the individual in the car looked in the rearview mirror, saw no other cars following, looked on either side, only saw woods, and made a hasty decision.
Slowing down, the driver pushed the power button to open the window. A hand grabbed the bag of red blood-stained snow and heaved it out, watching until it landed amongst the trees.
Finally a smile appeared, worry gave way to relief, and the car picked up momentum, as a foot aggressively pushed on the accelerator, bringing the speed back to normal, and once again eyes focused on the road ahead.
Stationed in the woods, a filmy white almost transparent being observed the car as it drove away. Lo
oking sadly down at the discarded bag that had landed nearby, an anguished expression gave way to determination.
It’s imperative I tell them now! I can’t let my killer get away! Claire and Jim are the only ones who can help me. I just hope that they believe in ghosts.
* * * * *
As Trent drove up to the front entrance of Landry Trucking, he noticed a state police cruiser parked in front of the office. He looked at the car suspiciously and thought, wonder why they’re here? Surely they can’t be bothering them with more questions.
He frowned uncertainly, grappling with the meaning of the visit. Maybe they’re here because of an accident. Yeah, that must be it. There’s always an officer coming out to trucking companies to follow up on accident investigations.
Trent smiled in an attempt to relax, don’t need to get all shook up about them being here. I know they have plenty of new cases to work on.
He continued, they sure ask plenty of questions about accidents though.
Remembering an incident from a few years ago, why, I didn’t think they’d ever make up their minds about that one!
Of course, he added, they’re always extra cautious when investigating accidents where one of their own is involved.
Lucky for me, they didn’t find any evidence to link my truck to it!
And besides, Trent heaved a sigh of relief, that was three years ago.
He shook his head, they never did find out what really happened.
He turned toward the parking lot and walked over to his truck, giving a backward glance toward the office just as the two men exited the office. A worried expression crept onto his face. When I go in to get my paperwork, I’ll ask Art Cane what this is all about. He’ll tell me.
* * * * *
“Thanks for coming with me, George,” Marvin said. “This way it looks more official since I’m supposed to be retired.”
George Stanley slapped his former co-worker on the back and replied, “No problem, Chief. When you told me that this guy had Claire down as a reference, I couldn’t believe it! I had to hear for myself and…,” he stopped talking. “Isn’t that Trent Newman over there?”
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