Deep Pockets Hold Secrets

It was becoming a exceptionally harsh winter in Northern Wisconsin. I found myself a bit unprepared having recently downsized for my move to the Northland. My daughter and her fiancé had moved to his hometown after completing college. They have since married and blessed me with 2 amazing Grandchildren, drawing me into a winter wonderland. My winter coats were all waist length, allowing the cold, high winds to sneak under, thus my core was often exposed to it. (6.5)

I sent off to find a coat to protect me from this winter I was far from being prepared for. It's a scarcely populated rural area, the largest county based on land mass. However shopping is scarce, and the selection is limited. Having inspected all the stores selling new clothing, I hadn't found one which fit well. Likely as a major winter event, the legendary American Birkebeiner cross country race was in mid swing, I assume the 30,000 out of town spectators also arrived for a standard winter. It is known as a testing ground for any and all who seek Olympic gold. Skiers, their team, family and friends from around the world fill every hotel, motel, cabin and rented room every February. Many events are held for skiers of any age and ability. Toddlers, teens, young adults, mid life dream chasers as well as the professionals. (11 + 6.5 + 17.5)

I began to bop from thrift store to thrift store and was in the final shop I was able to locate from the list of those I located on line. I had purchased 2 coats at the previous shops. They fell into the 'well, this will do'. level all women understand. I felt very lucky to finally find a knee length, double breasted, red wool coat, with a soft silky liner. Even more thrilled when it fit my slender frame as if custom made just for me. Not a easy feat, as I'm a fun sized old lady. I struggle to find affordable clothing which doesn't have a cartoon character front and center. Thus I likely giggled out loud like a child my size would, as I stood before a tattered full length mirror leaning against a wall. (9 = 26.5)

It had been snowing heavily throughout the day, my new boots had been the proper choice to keep my feet warm. While in the final shop where I had dilly dallied in no hurry to return to my empty nest, a blizzard had rolled in from the north east. As I trudged through the forming drifts to my car I knew this would be another long week, hunkered down between this weather and Covid. I tossed my purchases into the rear seat, then grabbed my new snow broom before closing the door. Snap, I think I'll need longer gloves before the next blizzard. (7.5 = 34)

The wind was really picking up as I struggled to see the road I hadn't traveled until today. I was certain I would miss my turn off and be lost in this cold foreign land far from any well known landmarks I had yet to commit to memory. My mind is slipping with age, I had forgotten to check the weather report before I set of for the day. Now I was cursing like my older brothers had taught me as a crept along hoping to stay out of the ditch. (6= 40)

Twilight was near as I finally arrived home. I gathered all the shopping bags I had collected being out all day. Grateful I hadn't done the grocery shopping as my arms were hidden buy the number of bags draping over both arms. It simply wasn't a fit day for man nor beast nor a second trip. How I wished I had a fob to unlock and open the door to the house. (5=45)

I dropped all the bags just inside and quickly closed the door as the wind and snow fought to follow me. I removed the layers I had worn to be outside then began to unpack my treasures. Thrift stores are full of unusual one of a kind finds. I sorted the items by type. Some needed machine washing, other items would be cleaned when I ran a sink of water. In the final bag was the ruby red coat, my prize of the day. (6=51)

Being it was wool I began to inspect it to determine if it need dry cleaning. I laid it across my dining table and seeing a few pet hairs I thought I'd start by removing them. As I ran the tape roller up and down I noticed there was bump of some type at the bottom hem. Having had holes in a coat as a child I slid my hand inside a pocket wondering if I had missed discovering a hole when I tried it on. Sure enough I thought, as I reached towards the hem. Was is this? (6=57)

A smallish back book was pulled from between the layers of cloth.

I love mystery's, my finger tips began to tingle. I stood there and quickly scanned a few pages. The day washed off my mind as I moved to a comfy chair and began to read ever word written within. Soon I had pen and notebook in hand as I began to connect the dots between the pages, I jotted them down. Names, dates, towns and cities. Husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, forming a family tree I could see. Who said what, when was it said, was it important? Was this just scribbled thoughts to become a novel somewhere in the authors future? (8=65)

One name was was often used, usually as a stand alone, Rosie. Else where were Rose, now and then Rosie Bly, Rosie Larson. Eventually I found Rosie Bly Larson. The ink varied as did letter size, neatness. Most entries were were short, 2-3 lines. Nothing was in any type of order I could follow. I was consumed trying to put these pieces together in hopes of seeing enough of the puzzle I could make any sense of. Had she run away? Was she murdered? Was this real? Which town was Rosie's home town? So many questions raced through my mind, I wanted answers. (8=73)

I tossed and turned that night, trying to find sleep, as the little black book refused to let me rest. Was Rosie my age, my daughters age? Was she real?

I couldn't sleep, so was off to begin a search on social media. It didn't take long for my jaw to reach my chin, eyes wide open, heart racing so fast and heavy I could feel it with my hands. Rosie IS real, she has been missing since 2009. Even more concerning, she had vanished without a trace not far from where I sat.

I joined a facebook group dedicated to her case. Now the scribbles in the black book began to take shape. I could discern who were family, friends and foes. Who ever had collected all the notes was certainly someone involved in the case on some level. Someone who was talking to many people for a length of time, collecting information, verifying statements, adding their own knowledge of events. Things most family, friends and foe's might prefer left uncovered. Things I wonder if the Police know.

How could the $20,000 dollar prize money offered help heat up this cold case? A question which will have me tossing and turning tonight, as I only learned of this writing challenge a few hours ago.

Please forgive any typo's, my time to submit is nearly passed. No time to pro read.