“Let her go, Trent.” The form continued to advance, holding a gun in his hand while he spoke. “Let her go right now or I’ll shoot.”
A sinister smile crossed Trent’s face. “Now why would I do that?” After all, Jim, I’m the one with a knife in her back. Do you want to take a chance and watch her die?” Jim Hoppes hesitated slightly and Trent continued, “Drop the gun or I’ll kill her.”
“Do what he says, Jim.”
He looked in her eyes and saw the pleading; he also saw something else. Her eyes traveled down to her right side and her head dipped ever so meaningfully.
Trent didn’t feel or see the scant movement. His attention was squarely on Jim. He repeated what Claire said in a sarcastic tone. “Yes, Jim. Do what he says.” He twisted her arm until she moaned in pain.
Hearing this, Jim let the gun fall to the ground in front of him. He raised his hands in surrender and said, “Okay, just let her go.”
“Oooh, sounds like Jim cares about you, Claire.” He put his head down and nuzzled the side of her face. “That might not be too good for him.”
Alarmed, Claire burst out, “Don’t hurt him, Greg. Let him go. I’ll stay with you.”
Before he could reply, Jim spoke up. “Why did you call him ‘Greg’, Claire?”
“Tell him,” he ordered her.
“He’s both, Jim. He’s Trent Newman but I remember him as Greg Roberts.”
“And, you might remember me as Grady Rogers,” Trent added.
Startled, Jim stared closer. Shocked, he quietly whispered, “Grady Rogers! Oh my God! It is you! I thought you might still be alive!”
“You won’t be for long, though.”
“He killed his first wife, Doris Rogers. He killed Libby too,” Claire said to Jim.
Trent twisted her arm again more forcefully than before and Claire gritted her teeth so as not to scream out in pain.
Jim clenched his fists and bent forward in response to the pain evident on Claire’s face. He started to say something but remained quiet when he sensed a change in the atmosphere; it almost felt like another person was present.
Claire and Trent were silent too as a noticeable chill in the air seemed to spread out and cause the already frigid night to become even more frozen. But, it was more than just the cold that hushed them, and they all stood still as that sense of another presence suddenly invaded their space. It wasn’t a noise this time, but only a feeling that came over them as they stood in the clearing adjacent to the lake. In the night air they experienced a frost that went beyond a winter evening breeze. The iciness heralded the proximity of a being, even though no one was visible in the darkness.
Claire could feel Trent tighten his grip on the knife. He stood quietly, watchful, with an uneasiness that mirrored the soundlessness. She and Jim shared a questioning glance. Unspoken, it denoted an uncertainty of what it was they were all feeling.
Finally, in their increasingly clear night vision, they could see a shape beginning to form a short distance from them in the woods. It was fuzzy at first, only an outline. As it began to take on the appearance of something more solid, all three inhaled sharply as they simultaneously realized that they were looking at the ghost of Libby Newman.
She held her arm out in front of her and pointed to Trent. Then she swung her arm around and pointed into the woods, sadly gazing at a spot between two pine trees. Snow covered the ground but as Libby continued to focus on this location, water and then blood started to ooze up out of the ground, bubbling, gathering momentum and volume, until it turned the earth a rust color. It moved closer to the threesome as it threatened to overtake the landscape.
Startled and frightened, Trent gasped and Claire could feel his grasp on the knife weaken tenuously. But both of them, and Jim, felt as if something or someone was holding them in place. Their bodies were paralyzed.
Then, Libby pushed into the consciousness of each one present, the true story of her death. Through wordless pictures she showed them how Trent came to see her at the house and begged and beseeched her not to leave him and move to California.
She impressed upon them her stubbornness and refusal to bend to his wishes. She gave them a sense of her desire to flee and make a better life for herself.
Fast forwarding, Libby showed them how Trent convinced her to go with him for one last ride on his motorcycle. She loved riding with him…and he knew that. She enjoyed the freedom of riding, hair blowing in the breeze, feeling the pull of the great beyond. Not able to resist, and unaware that this would be her last ride, she walked with him to where he had parked his motorcycle and hopped on the back. Libby was not concerned when Trent drove into Pine Lake; that was one of their favorite spots when they were together.
The thoughts that were being impressed into Trent, Jim and Claire’s minds turned dark and menacing as Libby approached the climax of the story. They all felt a pounding in their heads as she revealed the last minutes of her life.
The images came fast and furious. Trent argued. He tried to persuade Libby to stay. He wanted her back. She shook her head, ‘no’ and turned to walk back to the motorcycle. He pulled out the knife and started stabbing her over and over again. His rage continued unabated for several seconds until he stopped, took a breath, and bent over to look at her. He realized he had killed her. His passion had caused him to plunge the knife into her seven times. The last wound was the one that killed her. It struck her in the heart and Libby Newman breathed her last breath.
The dreamlike kaleidoscope Trent, Jim and Claire were seeing slowed down and the sadness of this moment was felt in all three. There was a pause, giving each an opportunity to experience the death of Libby Newman. Tears streamed down Claire’s face. Jim bent his head in sorrow and silently said a prayer. Trent didn’t move; shock and disbelief kept him rooted to the spot.
In slow motion the pictures started up again and showed how Trent used a shovel he had hidden in the old canoe to dig a burial place for Libby. He placed her body in the hole, covered it up and disguised it with dirt and leaves, deep enough for no one to discover in the last four years she had been gone.
Then, as a fitting conclusion, Libby turned and pointed to her grave again. On top of the ground were all the signs in the snow that had been left for Claire…a knife, a rose, and a shoeprint had all magically appeared in the mix of blood and water that continued to seep up through the soil.
Of course! Now it all makes sense! He used a knife to kill her and he buried her near water. She wanted me to know who was trying to communicate with me so she left the rose because she had a rose tattoo. Wordlessly, Claire sent a message of thanks to Libby and she smiled back in understanding.
Trent seemed unaware of the silent missive flowing between the two women. He remained frozen in fear. With his attention diverted, Claire stole a look at Jim and nodded slightly. Trent was so shaken by the ghostly image of Libby that he did not notice Jim bend over. In the next second, when he finally felt Claire shift unobtrusively, it was too late for him to regain his position of authority. A shot rang out and a body fell to the ground.