Grabbing a beer out of the refrigerator, the person took a swig and felt the beginnings of relaxation. He looked around the small but comfortable confines of the apartment and thought about the house. Sure beats the hell out of this place.
He frowned when he remembered the judge declaring it her property in the divorce decree. I wanted to keep the house! It held memories for me too.
He gulped the last of the beer and threw the can in the wastebasket. I didn’t get all my belongings out either, he remembered. That always bothered me, but especially now when I think about everything I left there.
Startled, he recalled something else. Wonder if Claire Dungarven knows about my stuff? I wouldn’t mind contacting her, but it’s been a long time.
He smiled as he reminisced about that part of his past. I read something about her in the newspaper recently. She’s retired! That’s right. She retired from the state police and moved to Brown County. Article said she bought a home at Sweetwater Lakes.
The man thought about this piece of information, Wonder if I should pay her a visit and see if she can help me?
His smile turned sinister. And, maybe I should find out what she knows.
* * * * *
After saying goodnight to Marvin and, as she stated, ‘agreeing to patronize him in allowing him to check her house before he left’, Claire turned on the front porch light and headed for her bedroom.
She glanced in the tiny office and thought fleetingly about writing, but decided she needed the sleep more.
I’ll put off until tomorrow what I could do tonight.
She went into the hall bathroom and looked at her reflection in the mirror while grabbing for her toothbrush.
I look tired but my mind is racing a mile a minute!
As she brushed her teeth, she thought about what Jim had told her…human blood. Whose blood could it be?
And, more to the point, why is it in my yard?
She considered the possibilities.
Is it just a coincidence or did someone actually have an accident and then walk through my yard dripping blood?
No, that doesn’t account for the one set of shoe prints…and the blood showing up before the knife appeared…and the rose.
She finished brushing and wiped her mouth on the towel.
As she washed her face, another thought came to mind.
It has to be deliberate! It’s too much like someone is staging a whole collection of clues to build up a scenario for me.
She asked herself, So, if that’s true, what is the person trying to tell me?
And who is this person who is trying to tell me something?
Then, the recollection of how many similarities there were between the signs found in the yard and the clues in the disappearance of Libby Newman hit her full force again.
The revelation stunned Claire.
It has to be connected to her case! There’s no other possible answer.
She remembered, and then, she came to me in the dream.
If she’s alive, did she attempt to communicate with me telepathically?
“If so, that would be very…bizarre,” she answered her own question.
Claire gazed in the mirror for a long time and then her eyes took on a very determined set with the abrupt realization… She is dead…and she’s trying to lead me to her killer!
As she walked to her bedroom, Claire spoke aloud, “Okay, Libby. Tell me what you need me to know. I’m ready to help.”
* * * * *
Later, startled awake in the middle of the night, Claire sat up and tried to remember all that she could about her just-completed dream. Libby had come to her; she signed ‘help’, but also used pictures to relay a sequence of events.
It’s like she’s reenacting what happened. Libby saw the door alarm light up; she went to the door and opened it; she frowned slightly; it changed momentarily to a timid smile.
She knew the person!
A hand motioned to come out on the front porch…
“Wait a minute,” Claire said, “I’d better get a notebook and write this down. I’ll never remember all the details if I don’t.”
She went into the kitchen and grabbed a tablet off the countertop and reached for a pen in the small jar she kept next to the phone. She sat down at the table and began to write furiously. Flashing light of the door alarm, hand motioning to come outside…
After writing everything down, Claire sat back and looked at what she had written.
Knowing that she was not going to sleep the rest of the night, she stood up and grabbed the coffee container out of the cabinet, with intentions to make some strong coffee that would help her be as sharp as she would need to be.
Glancing at the clock, she groaned when she realized how early it was, “4:30 in the morning! It’s going to be a long day.”
* * * * *
A car crept slowly by the house. The person behind the wheel strained in the darkness to take in the house numbers.
Too dark to see anything…
Agitated at seeing a light flick on in the house, she’s awake!
Don’t want her to notice my lights. I’d better go by, turn around down the street, and hope she doesn’t look out the window.
But, if she does, maybe she’ll think it’s the newspaper carrier.
At least I know where she lives now, the observer added chillingly.
The individual grasped the wheel tighter. I can keep an eye on her…and, maybe she’ll lead me to what I want!
* * * * *
Tossing, turning, Marvin Hennessey finally gave up the ghost and got out of bed, carefully, quietly, hoping not to disturb Mary. He couldn’t get his mind off the information that Claire and Jim had shared with him at the hospital.
It’s not that I don’t believe her, but I’m trying hard not to ignore the facts…there was blood, one set of shoeprints, and a knife in Claire’s front yard…I don’t know what that rose and the pool of water mean, but for now I’ll try to concentrate on the other evidence…
Walking into the living room, he glanced out the window, attempting to ‘set the scene’ in his own mind: Blood, shoeprints and more blood, a knife…and a rose.
He kept coming back to the flower. It was what didn’t make sense. Why would someone leave a rose? And, it’s still fresh, according to Claire. It is strange that a rose would show up in her front yard in the dead of winter. And, what does it mean?
Marvin sat down in his easy chair and pondered the whole scenario.
Maybe she’s right. It sounds like someone is leaving clues to a crime. Like Claire said, Libby did have a rose tattoo on her ankle.
He thought back to all the teasing he gave her and felt a stab of guilt. I didn’t mean to give Claire the impression I don’t believe her, but it flies in the face of the common wisdom a police officer usually employs to solve a mystery.
Then, he sat up straight and thought about the other possibility. What if it is something supernatural?
What if Libby Newman is the one leaving the signs in the snow?
If so, where is she and what happened?
“Maybe I need to read the details of that case again,” he whispered to himself.
That’s what I’ll do. I need to go to the office today anyway…clean out my desk, pick up some possessions. I’ll just pull it up on the computer and read it again. Maybe something will pop up. Sure can’t hurt, Marvin thought as he made his way back to bed.