Snow Signs Page 4

  Mary will be a wreck! He doesn’t have that many hobbies and you can only do so much fishing.

  Oh well, she decided, it will be a learning process for both of them, and I’m sure they can handle it.

  I’m handling it pretty well, she decided.

  Just wish I could find out why these things keep appearing in my yard…and why I think they have something to do with Libby Newman.

  Claire shook her head and forced herself to stop thinking about it, and get back to her speechwriting.

  But when she completed the tribute, she found herself staring at the folder containing the information from the Libby Newman case again.

  Knowing that something was gnawing at her, she shrugged her shoulders and opened the file, realizing that she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else until she investigated it further.

  * * * * *

  She was drawn to the information that included the identification of the victim and the search for the woman.

  Claire read the physical description through, noting that Libby was of slender build, five feet, four inches tall, long blond hair, blue eyes, pretty by any standards.

  Identifying marks? Yes, she remembered, there was an identifying mark. She had a tattoo on her right ankle.

  Her mother had mentioned that during the interview. She never liked that Libby had a tattoo, even though it was tastefully done and in a discreet location, not noticeable to most people.

  Now let me see, Claire thought, what was that tattoo anyway?

  She read through the report and gasped when she came upon the information she was looking for.

  A rose! Libby had a rose tattoo on her ankle!

  But that’s not so strange, Claire reasoned. Lots of people have a rose tattoo, especially women. It’s one of the most common according to tattoo artists. She remembered talking to one of them about it when she was investigating the case.

  So, why should it surprise me that it was a rose tattoo when I was just thinking about roses?

  “It’s just a coincidence. What do they call that? Synchronism. Yeah, that’s it. I’m having a synchronistic moment.”

  Laughing, Claire shook her head, bent down, and tried to return to her reading.

  My mind was on roses and that’s why it jumped out at me in the report, nothing more, she told herself.

  Adding, but the coincidences between this case and my present-day life are piling up, and it’s hard not to recognize that fact!

  She attempted to concentrate on the report once again as she read through the search summary.

  * * * * *

  Libby was reported missing the next day by someone at Glenco. She had not come to work that morning and she always called in.

  She used a relay operator to call and everyone in the office was familiar with the procedure and how to take a message.

  One of the staff in personnel called Libby’s home through the operator and did not get an answer. They waited quite some time before hanging up. Both knew you needed to give a deaf person time to see the flashing light and answer the phone, but after twenty rings, they suspended their efforts.

  They tried calling an hour later thinking Libby might have overslept. This sequence was repeated throughout the day with no luck.

  When the relay operator and staff failed to reach Libby, the employee in the personnel office expressed her concerns to the office manager, Ron Adams. He knew where she lived because he had taken her home a few times and he agreed to stop there on his way home.

  “That’s where we came in,” Claire whispered to herself.

  When Mr. Adams could not get an answer by ringing the doorbell, he decided to check further.

  Libby had an alarm hooked up to the front door so when someone pushed the doorbell, flashing lights would alert her that someone was at the door.

  He observed that the front porch light was still on, like someone had left it on from the night before.

  He also noted the front door was unlocked, so he went in and looked around.

  He saw nothing out of the ordinary but was bothered by the fact that Libby’s purse was on the dining room table. He sensed that she would have taken it with her if she had gone anywhere.

  He also knew that she usually kept her door locked, even before the divorce, because she never felt completely safe living out in the country alone.

  He checked the garage. Her car was still parked there, further alarming him.

  Altogether this concerned him enough to call the sheriff from his cell phone and report her missing.

  Sheriff Carson, in turn, called us when he realized it might involve a wider search area, Claire remembered.

  Ron Adams also gave the name and phone number of Libby’s mother, which he had found next to her phone.

  When we called her, Claire remembered, she was concerned too. She had seen Libby the day before when she stopped by her mom’s house for a surprise visit.

  Libby left around 6:00 p.m. and did not seem distressed or sick at the time. She told her mother she was going home to have supper and watch some television. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing indicating she was in danger.

  Or, maybe she was planning something and didn’t want her mother to know?

  That was the question no one could answer except Libby, and she hadn’t been around to let anyone know what really happened...not in the last four years…not since she vanished.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day Claire spent most of her time fine-tuning the speech and getting ready for the retirement dinner. She checked outside earlier in the morning and was relieved to see that nothing new appeared in the snow, but she chose to leave the blood and shoeprints there in case she decided to call Jim Hoppes and have him take a look at it. She had not had the time to do that since then, but made a mental note to call him first thing the next morning, providing the mystery had not been resolved by then.

  There has to be a logical explanation, she thought. I don’t want to discuss it with the guys tonight, even though they might be able to shed some light on the whole matter.

  She grinned. They would tease me unmercifully if they knew how I was connecting it to the Libby Newman case.

  No, best to keep it to myself, Claire decided.

  But, she couldn’t help thinking about Libby. Such an innocent victim!

  During the investigation, Libby’s friends and family painted a picture of a pretty, sweet young woman who was trying to do something with her life in spite of her deafness.

  It sounded like she had a lot of the same characteristics as a young Claire Dungarven. She was ambitious, stubborn, determined to make the most out of her life.

  When Libby finally found love, she embraced it with all her heart, giving in to the one weakness she possessed—her desire to be loved by another and have the kind of lifestyle she had always dreamt about. She wanted the husband, family, and home--everything women are groomed to expect from an early age.

  Unfortunately that dream dissolved quickly, and it must have been heartbreaking for her to experience.

  Some members in her family had a hunch that she wasn’t happy, even though her pride would have kept her from sharing it, and her lifelong habit of not sharing her innermost feelings with anyone could have played a role in her unwillingness to inform them.

  “And that’s why I can’t get her out of my mind. She reminds me so much of myself.”

  Tears started to form in Claire’s eyes but she quickly swiped them away. She thought back to Doug Walling, her first love and a fellow state trooper at the time.

  She bowed her head in sadness when she remembered the night he was killed three years ago.

  * * * * *

  He had been issuing a speeding ticket out on the interstate. No one, except people in law enforcement maybe, could imagine how treacherous it would be to stand beside a car, checking license and insurance information. Police officers do it all the time, but it is particularly dangerous when out on the interstate.

 
; As Doug stepped back from the speeder’s car and shone his flashlight on the papers in his hand, a truck came careening out of nowhere.

  The driver hit Doug so hard that it threw his body up into the air, landing twenty feet away.

  When Claire arrived, the paramedics told her there was nothing they could do; he was already gone. The driver who caused the accident never stopped. The speeder was in shock and couldn’t offer any help. Since it happened in the middle of the night, no witnesses were close enough to observe any distinguishing characteristics about the truck, just that it was a semi. And, unfortunately, Doug’s in-car video camera was not working at the time of the accident.

  Officers did a thorough investigation of truckers in the area, but the driver was never found. If he had reported damage to his truck, no company reported it to the police.

  Claire was so overcome with grief that she had to take a week off from work. No, to be honest, Marvin and George ordered me to take the week off!

  She attended the funeral but it was one of the hardest things she ever had to do.

  Doug’s parents were especially distraught. He was their youngest son and the only one to follow in his father’s footsteps.

  Herb Walling had been a sheriff’s deputy in Jenson County, just south of Indianapolis, for twenty years.

  The one positive outcome was that the Indiana state legislature put a new law into effect that made it mandatory for drivers on the interstate to move over into the middle lane when passing a site where an emergency vehicle was parked or a patrol officer had a car pulled over on the shoulder. Since then, the number of fatalities had decreased significantly.

  “Too late to help Doug though.”

  Claire thought back to all the regrets she felt after the tragedy.

  He wanted the same things Libby Newman wanted—loving spouse, home, family—and neither had the opportunity to fulfill their dreams.

  If I hadn’t been so selfish! Claire balled up her hand into a fist.

  Adding sadly, but I knew what I wanted too, and it was my career.

  During the investigation into Libby’s disappearance, Claire found herself going over the same information, same search areas, same interviews, just trying to find some piece of evidence that hadn’t stood out before, something that might lead her to the truth about what happened.

  But, when Doug died, and after two years of following lead after lead that eventually led nowhere, she put Libby’s folder in the cold case file where it had languished ever since. She never forgot it, but she stopped thinking about it all the time…until now. Now it was coming back, consuming her life, almost to the extent that you might say it was haunting her.

  Chapter Eight

  Claire checked her image in the mirror and was satisfied with what she saw staring back at her. “Not bad for an old broad of 55,” she joked.

  It helped to boost her ego, but the primary motivation behind the remark was to eradicate any worrisome memories and enjoy the evening at hand.

  The retirement party would give her an opportunity to see friends, laugh, honor her beloved ‘Chief’, and relish the moment with him.

  “And, get my mind on other things!”

  She grabbed her coat and headed downstairs.

  Turning the light on in the garage, she peered inside before remembering she had left her car in the driveway after running to the floral shop to pick up the roses.

  She playfully smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand and smiled as she went out the back door, locked it, and walked to the car.

  Claire was in a good mood as she thought about seeing her friends at the dinner. But she couldn’t put the day’s happenings behind her and therefore couldn’t resist looking up towards the front yard. Even though she didn’t really expect to see anything, it had become a habit, she admitted, almost an obsession.

  Glancing quickly, she had her hand on the car door when she realized she had seen something new!

  “Not again,” she groaned.

  Claire fought with herself to open the door and drive to the party without a second thought, but she lost the battle. She let go of the handle and reluctantly turned to get a closer look at what she had seen in the snow.

  Trudging up the hill, she thought, why am I doing this to myself?

  As she edged nearer, squinting to make out the burst of color in the otherwise glaring white snow, Claire saw…red…more blood?

  “No, it has a distinctive shape,” she whispered.

  She analyzed the outline, still walking towards it. Long, slender, at one end…that part is darker in color…splash of red at the top.

  Making her way closer and closer, Claire suddenly stopped dead in her tracks.

  A red rose! What would a rose be doing in the yard at this time of the year?

  She picked it up and studied it carefully. Not stiff or frozen from the cold. The color of the bloom is still bright and the petals are firm to the touch, not limp like they would be if it had been outside in the frigid air for a while.

  She glanced around, looking both ways on the road, to check and see if someone was nearby.

  No one! You would think that I would see the person who left it. It’s too fresh to have been here that long.

  Round and round, Claire twisted it in her hand like the questions twirling inside her head.

  Hmmm…coincidences seem to be piling up. I’m taking roses to the party tonight. That started me thinking about Libby’s rose tattoo. What, if anything, does it all mean?

  Dumfounded, Claire made her way back to the car, still holding the rose. This is crazy! I have to stop thinking about her!

  She tossed it in the back seat and turned the key in the ignition, proclaiming as she backed out of the driveway, “Not going to let anything spoil the party!”

  Chapter Nine

  The parking lot of the restaurant was filled with law enforcement vehicles from all over the state.

  Chief’s personal car was parked under the canopy at the front door, gaily decorated with streamers and signs on the windshields. Claire saw Jim Hoppes attaching an envelope to the wipers and waved to him as she pulled into a parking space.

  He waited for her to exit the car and called out, “Hey, Claire. Looks like you finally have your opportunity to get even with him for all the years of teasing he put you through!”

  She hurried to join up with him, responding as she walked, “Yeah and I’ll make him pay!”

  Jim laughed as they turned to go into Hollyfield restaurant together.

  “I’m so glad to see you tonight!”

  He looks great! Can’t believe he’s not married! I think I remember something about him being married before but that was a long time ago. I guess he hasn’t found anyone else. Sounds like someone I know--myself. Claire smiled at the thought and made a hasty decision.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something. Do you think we could sit together?” They stood at the doorway of the banquet room. Claire looked around, scouting for an empty table.

  Smiling, Jim replied, “Sure, no problem…I’d never turn down an offer like that.”

  Bright blue eyes took in Claire, making her heart leap. She couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. Blond hair, just a touch of white around the temples beginning to show, dimples when he smiles, a little over six feet tall, broad shoulders, strong athletic body, kept in shape; I like that!

  Several people came up to say hello and Chief waved to them, blowing her a kiss from the dais set up in front. Mary was sitting next to him and motioned for her to come up. She asked Jim to find them some seats and went to pay her respects to the guests of honor.

  “Mary, I don’t know how you’ve managed to put up with him all these years.”

  She handed her the yellow roses and continued, “By the way, these are for you.”

  Captain Hennessey stood and hugged Claire, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Smart move, lady.”

  “Oh, Claire, they’re beautiful!” Mary exclaimed. “Thank you so much!�
�� She admired the flowers, tears welling up in her eyes.

  “Here,” she patted the seat next to her, “sit and tell us what you’ve been doing since your retirement.”

  “Not a whole lot,” Claire replied, while taking a seat, “and that’s the way I like it.”

  “By the way, I’m writing, working on a novel,” she continued.

  “That’s wonderful! What’s it about?”

  “Well, it’s about a case I worked on a few years ago.”

  “Let me guess,” Chief interrupted, “the Libby Newman case, right?”

  “You guessed it, Marvin.”

  She hesitated and then said, “I’m having a difficult time with it though. It seems to be invading my life right now.”

  Claire smiled uneasily and peered out at the crowd. She saw Jim motioning to join him at the table because the waiters were beginning to bring in the food. “I see they’re about ready to start serving. I’d better get to my table.”

  When she stood up, Chief hugged her one more time and looked into her eyes, “You know you shouldn’t take your work home with you, especially when you’re retired.

  He continued to hold onto her, staring, “Call me if you need some help.”

  She nodded her head up and down slowly and gave his hand a squeeze as she turned to leave. “I will.”

  Maybe I’ll do just that, she thought, walking across the room.

  “So, how’s he holding up?” Jim held Claire’s chair for her.

  “Ornery as ever,” she responded. “Mary is the one who has my sympathy though. Marvin is not one to sit around and do nothing. He’ll miss the mental challenges of the job, if nothing else.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. But, maybe he’ll surprise us and find a stimulating hobby.”

  He added, “By the way, what are you doing with all your free time?”

  Jim took a sip of water while waiting for Claire to answer.

  She paused as if making a decision and finally said, “Well, I’m glad you asked because I wanted to talk to you about something…”