Prologue
A fine feathery mist of snow filtered down through a stand of winter-barren timber. Few drops landed on the outstretched naked branches, but by morning, as intensity increased, a thick coating would illuminate the landscape, much like the full moon now shining in the night sky.
Light from the moon streaked through the austere woods, casting a silvery surreal tinge to everything in its path. Mimicking the brush strokes on an artist’s canvas, it left a lasting impression of visual imagery, both symbolic and real. For a lone figure stood mutely in the shadow of the trees, her whiteness sharply contrasted but strangely absorbed by the surroundings.
She watched a house, hoping to find someone staring back at her, but no one did. The windows were darkened; shades were drawn; only darkness reflected from within.
But, if someone had been inside, gazing out into the stark black and white of the cold night, that person could have been at first curious, and then concerned for this fragile waif, alone, without benefit of coat, gloves, or hat, braving the icy chill, showing no signs of hypothermia, no shivering, not even a hint of discomfort.
Further, leaning forward, and on closer inspection, the observer might have come to understand that there was something different about the solitary being out in the snow. And, a sharp intake of breath would have accompanied a realization that whatever it was standing in the woods, it was too transparent to be real. Perhaps it was only murky obscurity playing tricks on the mind?
Then, a gasp might have formed in the throat, catching in the back, struggling to come out as the watcher could have seen something red materialize and trickle down from bony white fingertips. Slowly, it would have become apparent that it was blood dripping on the ground, not too much, just enough to leave a bright-red stain on the snowy blanket.
And, if that person would have looked up in time, it might have been obvious, but not yet comprehensible, that the figure had already vanished into the night.
Chapter One
Birds flocked to the new birdfeeder, brilliant red cardinals, a black and white-breasted chickadee, all in sharp contrast to the snow-covered landscape and sterile trees.
Claire watched, a smile forming on her face. Good, she thought, first purchase for my new retirement home and it’s a hit with the birds.
She stood there, ramrod straight, hypnotized by the beauty of the nature in her front yard. A tall, slender woman, she exhibited the erect posture of a self-confident person, used to being in a position of authority… and in a uniform. Her hair was still a soft light blonde with flecks of white beginning to peek through, and her eyes were almost a copper color in their brilliance. She had womanly curves, inviting to any male, but showing the softer side of a female on the other side of fifty. Her hands were graceful, her fingers long and delicate.
Men had often complimented her on her beautiful hands, probably imagining how they would feel stroking their faces, soft to the touch but passionate as well.
Frost on the window was beginning to cloud her vision so she had to squint to see the cardinals and the chickadee more clearly. Her breath formed opaque circles on the glass and further impeded her vision, so she wrapped her arms around her chest and began to move away, shivering in response to the cold outside.
But, as she retreated, out of the corner of her eye she noticed a slight movement, and when she turned around, she saw the wind pick up the snow and send it swirling into the air.
How beautiful, she thought. I have a winter wonderland outside my front door and don’t have to leave the house to enjoy it!
“There are some perks to being retired, Claire Dungarven! No phone calls at 3:00 a.m. No fighting traffic to get to a crime scene. No more psychos to deal with.”
Letting out a soft chuckle, she walked towards the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Delicately fingering the hot cup in one hand, she picked up the newspaper with the other and moved toward the living room again to enjoy the outdoor scenery.
As she sat down on the couch, she glanced over at the picture window one more time and her instinct for detail told her that something was different. It was like something was out of place, not the same as before.
Claire saw the birds flocking around the feeder, shrugged her shoulders, and tried to concentrate on the newspaper. But after reading the headline for the fifth time, she slammed the paper down and stood up to get a closer look.
Damn! Am I ever going to enjoy myself?
Thirty years of police work had made her more than just a little observant. It could be a nuisance at times when she was trying to concentrate on something else, and that’s how it felt now. Compelled to see what was awry in the tranquil scene of a few minutes ago, she couldn’t just enjoy the view; she had to analyze it.
She looked at the birds…nothing amiss. The cardinals and the chickadee continued to enjoy their new feeding spot. Her lips twitched, suppressing a grin. Looks like the squirrels have discovered the bird feeder too!
Then, her eyes traveled across the front yard, lingering on the spot in between the trees where she had seen the snow swirling around.
Nothing there now, she thought.
But as she started to turn back towards the couch, she stopped. Wait a minute! There is something different!
Turning around to give it another look, her trained eyes took in all the surroundings. No movement. But when she gazed down at the ground, she noticed a spot right below where the snow had blown up.
“How peculiar”, she said aloud. “It almost looks like….what?” Leaning closer to the windowpane, her breathing began to cloud her vision again.
“I can’t quite make it out.” Straining to bring the spot into focus, she stared intently, her breath catching in her throat.
Finally exhaling, she proclaimed, “This is ridiculous!”
She moved away from the window and sat back down. “I’ve been retired for a week and I’m already talking to myself!”
Letting out another big sigh, she forced herself to relax, and sipping her coffee, allowed her mind to wander.
* * * * *
A lifetime of service with the Indiana state police, the first ten years as a trooper and the next ten as a senior trooper, and then the final ten of her total thirty years on the force as a detective trooper, had made Claire a very suspicious person.
Suspicious? Maybe that’s not the word. But, observant? Yes, for sure.
Definitely not rich, or married for that matter, she thought. I never had time for relationships! Oh sure, once or twice I was close enough to entertain the idea of settling down. And, a bittersweet smile crossed her face when she remembered her first true love.
Doug was a fellow state trooper. A shy, boyish type, he had the strong muscular build of a weight lifter, an oxymoron of a statement, but one that fit him to a tee. He loved her with all his heart and he wanted to marry, but he also wanted the dream stay-at-home wife.
Claire couldn’t see herself doing that. She was young and ambitious, definitely not ready for any commitment that might stand in the way of her career.
So, they ended their brief romance on a positive note and moved on, no looking back, no letting it interfere with their working relationship.
At least that’s what we told each other! She dipped her head and glanced at the newspaper. She briefly entertained the thought of reading once again, but knew that she needed to finish what she started, so she braved the pain and resumed her thoughts.
*