Snow Signs

by Jennifer Seet

  Relieved, Lynn’s face took on a more youthful and happy countenance, and then immediately clouded up and changed once again. Hurriedly and in a hushed tone she said, “Be careful. My killer is watching.”

  Claire and Jim looked at each other, unsure what to do next.

  Finally Claire spoke up, “Who is your killer, Libby? Is it Trent?”

  Lynn gazed at her for the longest time before she finally signed and said, “Your friend.”

  “What do you mean by that, Libby?” Claire stared at Lynn, confused.

  “Your friend,” she replied, “He’s your friend. You know him.”

  Claire gasped, “My friend? I know him? Who is it, Libby?”

  She sighed and said again, “Your friend. You will remember when you see him.” Her voice sounded far away, “You know him…”

  Agitatedly Lynn started to squirm in her chair and then went limp.

  Jim and Claire watched her intensely until she began to move and opened her eyes. She looked confused and exhausted, but managed to pull herself up straighter in the chair as she whispered, “Did Libby come? Did you get a chance to talk to her?”

  Claire and Jim sat there, unable to move, unable to talk, shocked at the realization that the killer was known to one of them and he had been watching.

  * * * * *

  As all good troopers are trained to do, Captain Hennessey and Corporal Stanley took in the surroundings at the trucking company lot as they drove in. No trucks idling; no drivers standing around; only nightfall coming in fast, hiding any other details that might prove activity in an otherwise deserted parking lot. Both of them glanced at the office and noted that no lights were shining and the ‘Closed’ sign was displayed on the front door. After they pulled into a space in front of the office, George instinctively pulled his gun out of his shoulder harness while exiting the car. Marvin did the same. Even though neither man noticed any movement in the office, Chief motioned for George to go around to the back of the building and check any other doors and windows.

  After stationing himself by the southwest corner where he could keep an eye on anyone trying to escape out the back door or window, George motioned to Marvin that he was in place. Captain Hennessey approached the front door and knocked, while proclaiming, “Police! This is the state police! Open the door!”

  Both men waited breathlessly but to no avail. No movement came from the building. No figures were sighted inside. Silence was the only reply. After several minutes and two more announcements with no response, Marvin tried the front door and found it locked. “Try the back door, George.”

  Chief waited for a reply from him and then peered around the corner in time to see George shaking his head negatively.

  “Look in the window,” Marvin mouthed as he pointed in that direction.

  While George was checking the lone back window, Captain Hennessey shaded his eyes and scrutinized the inside of the office earnestly. He allowed his vision to adjust to the dark as he gazed around the interior of the room. Even though his training had prepared him for any sudden movement, he was still startled when George came around the corner and approached him. He exhaled quickly and asked, “Didn’t see anything?”

  “Not sure, but I think I might have,” George replied cautiously.

  “I’m going to get the flashlight out of the car,” he continued as he walked to the patrol car.

  Watching him grab the flashlight out of the glove compartment, Marvin raised his eyebrows and, out of curiosity, followed him around to the back of the building.

  George shone the light in the window and scanned the room, carefully illuminating one small space at a time.

  His movements became more deliberate and slow as the light approached a cramped area back by a sink next to a long table. Only one corner of the table was visible through the window.

  “Look closely, Marvin. I thought I saw something poking out by that table leg.” He trained the light on the leg and the floor surrounding it. “There! See it?”

  Marvin peered through the back door and said in response, “Looks like part of a shoe sticking out under that table to me. That’s what I think. What about you?”

  George nodded and said, “And that gives us plenty of right to enter.”

  He put his shoulder into the door and shoved hard. The age and condition of the door didn’t deter the two men and it easily gave way with just one push.

  George regained his balance and entered the office ahead of Chief. He flipped the light switch on and quickly surveyed the interior to ensure that no one was hiding inside.

  With guns drawn, both officers combed the small office, checking every nook and cranny, before putting their full attention on the body lying on the floor under the table.

  “Looks like Art Cane won’t be coming home tonight…or any night,” Marvin quietly observed.

  George holstered his Glock and walked toward the front of the office. “I’ll call and get our guys out here. You secure the area and take notes.”

  He added, “You might use your cell phone to call your wife. I’m sure she wants to know that you’re coming home…just not anytime soon.”

  Marvin continued to stare down at Art Cain. He knew he needed to call Mary, but he was bothered by the fact that there was one more person he needed to call, Claire Dungarven. Because if he was right, she needed that phone call a lot more than Mary did.

  * * * * *

  Claire and Jim sat in the car in front of Lynn’s house, pondering all the new information from the séance and the implications.

  “So what do we do now?” Claire started the car and looked over at Jim, concern written all over her face.

  He grimaced, more out of pain than indecision, and said, “Well, we need to go out to Pine Lake and see if we can find the gravesite, but...” He touched the place on his head where he had the stitches and shifted in his seat.

  Claire glanced over at him as she pulled away from the parking spot. He’s not looking too good. What an idiot I’ve been! I picked him up from the hospital and have had him out all day today…and for what? To chase a ghost?

  Claire winced, He needs to be in bed, resting, recovering from his injuries.

  “Jim, I’m taking you home with me,” she spoke up impetuously.

  He started to put up his hand to object, but she persisted, “No, you need to rest.”

  Adding, “Besides, what could we see tonight? We should wait until morning.”

  If you’re feeling well enough, she added to herself. If not, I’ll go by myself.

  Jim gazed at her for the longest time, not sure if he should trust her, but finally the pain made him give in to her insistence. “Okay, but promise me you’ll not do anything stupid.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” She looked at him coyly.

  If she only knew how cute she looks right now!

  Sternly, he said, “You know perfectly well what I mean.”

  She grinned at him and responded, “Of course, I’ll not go without you.”

  He stared at her warily but nodded his head and said, “I trust you on this one, Claire, but don’t let me down.”

  He stopped talking as he remembered something she’d said, “And, by the way, did you say ‘I’m taking you home with me’ or was that wishful thinking on my part?”

  She winked at him and smiled, “How could I ever let you down.”

  He grinned and chided her, “You’re avoiding my question.”

  “No, I’m not!”

  Jim’s smile widened as he waited, not saying anything.

  She sighed, “Okay, it wasn’t wishful thinking…but don’t get your hopes up for anything more than my playing ‘Florence Nightingale’ until you’re feeling better.”

  He laughed and said, “Alright, I can accept that…especially the last part.”

  Confused, she looked across the seat at him and asked, “What last part?”

  Devilishly he replied, “The part about ‘until I’m feeling better’. It gives me something to l
ook forward to.”

  “See, you’re feeling better already,” she batted her eyelashes at him and took his hand, grasping it tightly in hers.

  Jim leaned closer and looked her in the eye. He watched her for any sign that she might be considering trying something on her own. They were being playful with each other…and it turns me on! But, he didn’t see any telltale signs that she was lying to him.

  Timidly at first, and then more urgently, he kissed her on the lips. Her response was warm, tempting, desiring and desirable.

  Then her lips moved up the side of his face and very gently caressed his stitches.

  He pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed each finger, lovingly staring at her the whole time.

  Reluctantly, they pulled apart, their eyes met, and the impulse to not stop was evident on both of their faces.

  But the beginning of a headache drummed through his head, forcing him to lean back against the seat and close his eyes. The pain grudgingly forced him to accept her promise. He was convinced that he had a solid commitment from her not to put herself in any danger.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t see the subtle movement of her left hand as she took it off the steering wheel, rested it against the driver’s door, and crossed her fingers.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “Huh, that’s strange. She’s not home,” Marvin Hennessey allowed the phone to ring until voice mail took over. “Claire, call me when you get this,” he gruffly spoke into the phone and hung up.

  Distracted by the arrival of more officers and in a rush to secure the crime scene, he forgot to mention that he was calling from his cell phone, and to tell her the significance of his call. It would be hours later before he realized that she had not called him back.

  But in the meantime, there were duties to perform. George Stanley was perfectly capable of leading the investigation, but Chief felt a certain responsibility since he had been the one to contact Art Cane in the first place. A brief wave of guilt came over him at the thought that Mr. Cane might have lost his life due to their conversation this afternoon, but he quickly shook the feeling off. He had to put on his professional demeanor and begin the laborious process of collecting evidence.

  George came up and stood beside Marvin. “Looks like he was stabbed as he was trying to run away from the killer.”

  Chief nodded in agreement and added, “From where the body is located, I would suspect that he fell while running towards the back door, trying to escape.”

  “There’s a severe gash on the victim’s head,” one of the patrolmen observed. “He might have hit his head on the table when he fell.”

  “The knife wound was what killed him though,” George muttered gruffly.

  The forensic investigator said, “Yes, even though he lost a lot of blood from the head injury, it was secondary to the stabbing…right through the heart. The perp must have come up from behind, put him in a head lock, and stabbed him. He knew what he was doing.” Adding, “Did you find the knife?”

  Both George and Marvin shook their heads and said, “No.”

  George suggested, “He probably took the weapon with him, but I’ll have some of the men check around the office and in the parking lot in hopes we get lucky and find it close by.”

  Marvin snorted, “Don’t get your hopes up, George. He’s too smart for that, and you and I know it.”

  “Yeah,” he considered, putting his head down before continuing, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking…that Trent Newman did this?”

  “Right now he’s our number one suspect as far as I’m concerned…but we have to find him first.”

  “And, we need to send an officer out to let Mrs. Cane know.” George reminded him. His mind was running through all the procedures that needed to be accomplished at the scene.

  “I’ll ask Clark to send someone out…and while I’m at it, I’ll check on his progress with the background check.”

  * * * * *

  Hours later, after the sheriff’s deputy had come out to take a report and lift some fingerprints found in the house, Claire was still picking up the clutter left by the intruder. She had to grin when she remembered how embarrassed Jim had been when his chief deputy, Rusty Timmons, had needled him unmercifully about staying with Claire. The two men enjoyed a joking exchange that left Jim on the receiving end for most of the conversation. She was sure that it wouldn’t be long before the whole Conservancy police force knew about their budding relationship.

  But, I don’t care! It’s kind of nice to think about it.

  After Rusty left, Claire put Jim to bed in her spare bedroom over his protests that she needed his help in cleaning up the house. She insisted that he could use the rest more than she needed the help and he finally acquiesced, took more pain medication, and fell asleep shortly after his head hit the pillow.

  Smiling, she thought about how important Jim was becoming in her life. How come I didn’t meet him earlier, she wondered.

  Problem is I wouldn’t have been any more ready to get serious, even with Jim. She folded items and put them back in her dresser. Just like Doug, I would have put my career first. It was always like that. She contemplated what her life would have been like if she had married.

  Greg was the one who touched my heart, though. I didn’t know him long but there was something about him that just made me melt. Besides those gorgeous eyes, she remembered, he had the most charismatic personality. He could charm any woman…and he did, she scoffed at herself. How could I have been so stupid! She closed the drawer and sighed, well, at least I had the courage to walk away from that relationship when I saw him with his wife. What a slime! He sure had me fooled!

  Claire carefully smoothed out the bed where the clothing had been piled up and yawning she realized how tired she felt.

  Grabbing her nightgown out of the closet, she proceeded to undress and continued reminiscing, Jim is everything I’ve been looking for in a man. Greg couldn’t hold a candle to him! Jim’s smart, sexy, sweet…all the qualities I need. Why waste my time wondering why he didn’t come into my life sooner. He’s here now and I plan to hold on to this one. He’s a keeper.

  Turning down the bedspread, Claire shuddered in pleasure when she thought about how close he was and how fortunate she was to have him. Yes, I’m one lucky gal, she smiled as she pulled up the sheet and blanket.

  In her rush to clean up the house, and with exhaustion quickly settling in, she didn’t think to check the phone for messages. But even if she had, she might not have been concerned about any urgency to call Chief back. She drifted off to sleep unaware that a murder had occurred…and as a result of that crime, her own life was in more danger than she could ever imagine.

  * * * * *

  The moon hung in the night sky, almost full, its outline edge-straight and stark against the black surroundings. Stars blinked around it but they only served as a minor distraction from the magnificence of the moon in all its glory. Tomorrow night it would be full, no edges, a luminous ring of blazing light to ignite the darkness…and make apparitions more visible in our earthly world.

  One spirit in particular was anticipating that full moon. Libby had been waiting, and watching, for a long time. She stood by Claire’s bed and gazed down at her in wonderment. The time has finally come! She’ll find me and bring peace of mind to my family and friends. She’s my savior!

  Claire shifted in her bed. She sensed the cold and intuitively pulled the blanket up under her chin.

  I need to protect her though, because he plans to follow her! Fear gripped Libby, and as a result, her energy weakened. If anyone present in the house had been awake, that person would have noticed a dimming of the outline, slowly fading away, and simultaneously, a gradual rise in room temperature. But no one was awake and Libby realized that she would have to invade Claire’s dreams one more time to warn her of the danger that awaited her tomorrow.

  Quickening warmth invaded the bedroom and Claire felt the tense relaxation that exhaustion carries with it. As sh
e routinely passed from REM sleep into a deeper realm…the kind that brings dreams that don’t make sense in the morning…or, that are not remembered in the calm of a new dawn…she was peacefully unaware of what tonight and tomorrow night would bring.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “Thanks, Clark. Send Ralston. He’s very good at these kinds of things. He’ll know what to say to Mrs. Cane.”

  Marvin listened on his cell phone as Trooper Tomlinson talked.

  “Yeah, we’re still working the scene…and will be overnight…but he definitely was murdered. Sheriff’s department is working with us on this one, so we should have plenty of manpower to cover all aspects of the investigation.”

  Again Chief listened as Clark asked him about what to tell Mrs. Cane.

  “She’ll need to know that he was killed…and Detective Trooper Ralston might want to ask her if she knows anyone who might have a motive…,” pausing as Clark Tomlinson spoke. “No, we’re not ready to talk to the media yet. If anyone finds out and calls, take their number and we’ll get back with them, but we don’t want them showing up here just yet.”

  Changing the subject, “By the way, did you have time to find out any more about Trent Newman’s background?”

  Marvin’s eyes lit up, “Oh really! Well, that’s interesting.”

  “Uh huh,” His eyebrows knitted together in worry. “Well, keep digging. I think we’ll find the connections. If not, we’ve got the fingerprints and they match. We can also use any circumstantial evidence and the timeline to prove that the two identities are the same.”

  He paused as an idea struck him. “Why don’t you go ahead and start working backwards using the dead guy’s identity. Interview friends, find out what you can about him from the crime file, and get back with me as soon as you locate anything of interest.”

  George came up to Marvin. “Look, Clark, I gotta go but call me. Yeah, thanks. Bye.”

  “What did he say? Is he going to get someone to go out to the house?”