"What? Tell me now what the hell it is you are hiding from me," DiNolfo demanded of the deputies.
Earl, sitting with a smug grin, turned his eyes back to his magazine, while Amos loudly slurped his coffee before saying, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” DiNolfo eyed them venomously from her desk, before marching down to the filing room, keys and case files in hand. When she left their sight, Earl leaned over to Amos and whispered stealthily, “Meet me at the Rusty Nail.”
* * *
Tristan frantically tried to find her way down the dark highway. She knew she had to turn the car around somewhere and get on I-80 east. There was no way in hell she was pulling a U-turn. She had an idea of what would happen. Kendricks would be making his way up the highway to the nearest phone, and somehow, someway, he'd stop her. But the more she thought about it, the warier she became. She would be more likely to get lost in the back roads of the woods than on the highway. Against her better judgment, she turned the battered car onto the grassy knoll that separated I-80 west and east.
"If he gets in my way, I'll run him over with the car,” said Tristan, her determination getting strong and stronger by the minute. She was getting closer to the point where she had left Kendricks on the opposite side of the highway. She peered across the highway trying to see if she could spot him, but she saw nothing. “Thank God,” said Tristan, as she moved her eyes back to the road in front of her.
Focusing on the darkening highway she nearly brought the car to a complete stop when she saw the man standing in the road just ten feet in front of her. The darkness of night cloaking him ominously under the glow of the moon, Tristan was frozen still in shock. He stared at her with a putrid hatred that frankly scared the living hell out of her. Standing quite still, he looked like the devil incarnate himself. She stomped on the gas pedal, tires screeching underneath of her, as Tristan narrowly escaped hitting Bernard Kendricks over with the car. As she sped off down the dark highway, a terrible scream erupted into the night.
Chapter Seventeen
Nova Recovered
October 9, 1997
Early Evening
Elkhart, PA
Frank stood at the on-ramp of Cavegat Pass brightly illuminated in his orange Department of Transportation vest as he stopped cars that intended to climb the mountain road that led to Fox Hollow. On the opposite side of the road, Blake, Tommy, and Shane tackled traffic from the off-ramp, making sure every car that passed through knew what had happened to their father and sister. Looking each driver in the face for identification, Frank handed them each a missing person’s poster with Tristan’s face featured largely in the center. Local media still had not picked up the story about Tristan’s original disappearance, let alone the recent turn of events, so Frank was trying to get word out, and make sure the community knew so they could help too.
Cole and Joe Piedmonte had helped by stapling missing flyers to all the utility poles in town, as well as taping flyers in store windows. Once Joe found out what happened at the hospital, he transformed his large road side sign that typically housed his daily specials into a roadside headline, “Steeplechase Teacher Kidnapped Student and Shot Parent. Please Help! Come to Monte’s!” Deputy Cope tried to get him to take the sign down several times, but Joe refused, saying that it was his sign, his property, and he had to right to express himself however he saw fit.
The crowd began to gather around dinner time in the parking lot of Monte’s, community members wanting to know how they could help. Joe passed out flyers while Cole talked to some of the men that came down from the Elkhart Gun Club about what happened to his girlfriend, and what Kendricks looked like, while the sportsmen looked eager to go on a countywide hunt for the man responsible for all this heartache. A large group of parents of Steeplechase students had begun to congregate in the entryway of Monte’s demanding to know what had happened, with one mother screaming hysterically, “It could have been any of our children!” as tears flooded down her face.
Joe climbed on a chair behind the counter, put two fingers in between his teeth, and let out a screeching whistle that caught the attention of everyone in the room, including the hysterical Mrs. Lawrence. Everyone stared up at him, wide-eyed and alert. “Everybody needs to calm down. We need your help. Bernard Kendricks, who we all know was an English teacher at Steeplechase, has kidnapped one of his students, Tristan Morrow. We all know the Morrows well. They need our help desperately. Jack Morrow is in critical condition over at St. Benedict’s. Not only did Kendricks take his daughter, but he shot him in a major artery in his leg. As community members, I am holding you all responsible in doing your part. Jack and his family have done all of us many favors over the years, and have been there whenever we are needed. Angus Morrow, Jack’s father, helped pay for my Maria’s funeral when I couldn’t afford it. Ted, do you remember when Bridgette stitched up your leg herself when you didn’t want to go to the ER? Herschel, you needed supplies to build a new barn after the fire… Jack gave you a truck load of timber. We need to do something. We are a small, tight-knit community, but there is a lot of ground that we need to cover.”
Frank watched as crowds of people began gathering in the gravel parking lot of Monte’s café, amused at how much traffic Joe’s controversial sign was pulling in. The diverse group included everyone from members of the HellRaisers motorcycle club, members of the Elkhart gun club, bands of hunters, soccer moms and their minivans full of kids, even Peggy and Edna from the General Store couldn’t resist the temptation. But while everyone else was preoccupied with the hubbub over at Monte’s, Frank was more concerned about finding Tristan. He had the whole family out at various posts throughout the community. He kept the younger boys with him, while Adam kept watch at the Gandy River Bridge. Meanwhile, Liam and Bridgette were driving westward down I-80 following a tip from Sunbury that the car was spotted driving westward.
Exhausted from a long day of standing post at the mouth of the Cavegat Pass highway, Frank leaned heavily against his pickup truck. He took off his hat, wiped the sweat from his furrowed brow and glanced up to survey the road. That is when he saw it. A gold Nova with a cracked windshield, swerving snake-like down Mountain Road. Frank grasped his gun, resting snug in his back jean pocket, as he watched the car approach. It looked as if it was in an accident of some sort. The front fender was dented, one headlight was out, and now that it was in better eye shot, Frank noticed that the windshield wasn’t just cracked, but portions of it were shattered and missing. He had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, a mixture of nerves and anticipation. His brain was telling him to keep his gun out, but his gut was telling him to put away his weapon. Something was telling him that it was not Bernard Kendricks behind the wheel of that car. Suddenly the car began to slow, right in the middle of Mountain Road. Frank ran forward, finally recognizing who it was that was driving.
* * *
Tristan brought the car to a screeching halt, distracted by the sign that stood outside of Monte’s café. Where the daily specials use to display, Joe and Cole had put out a plea for help, and they had put Bernard Kendricks’ on blast. Exhausted, running on no sleep in three days, Tristan’s emotions had gotten the best of her. Tears streamed down her face as she exited the car.
She could see someone coming towards her, but she didn’t have the strength to run anymore. Please let it be someone I know. Someone not mentally insane.
She grabbed the pocket knife just in case.
The closer Frank got, the more alarmed he became. It was definitely Tristan, but she looked as if she had been through a war. Favoring one leg as she limped forward, she had scratches across her face, a black eye and bruised lip from the altercation at the hospital, and she held her left side at her ribcage. Her bloodshot eyes had a faraway look, as if she didn’t understand where she was. Frank slowed his pace now, so that he didn’t frighten her.
“Tristan?”he greeted gently, “it’s Uncle Frank. I’m going to take you home.”
“Uncle Fran
k! Oh, thank God!”
Frank grabbed a hold of Tristan leaving the car sitting in the middle of Mountain Road as he escorted her over to his pickup truck. From the window of Monte’s café, Cole spotted her. Like a bat out of hell, he flew out of the restaurant and by Frank’s side in seconds, eyes wild, and in a state of utter disbelief.
“Tristan! Oh my God. Are you okay, what happened? Where is he?!”
“Give her a minute kid,” said Frank, as he watched his niece’s face, eyes dark-circled from her stressful ordeal.
“Is she alright?” Cole asked Frank in a panic.
“She’s exhausted. We need to get her home now.”
“Well, I’m coming. Tristan, where is Kendricks?”
“Kid, stay here.”
“No Mr. Kilpatrick, I’m coming… I need to make sure she is okay. I won’t leave her side. Not after all that has happened.”
It seemed that Frank didn’t have much of an option, so he tossed the keys to Cole so that he could open the door.
“You’re gonna deal with your old man then. Not me.”
Frank lifted his niece into the car, and laid her in the backseat of the cab. Tristan looked at Frank, and her voice urgent, she warned, “We need to go. He’s coming.” Frank winked at his niece and replied, “And we’ll be ready for him,” as he cocked and revealed the gun that was resting in his back pocket.
* * *
Jenna DiNolfo put a silver hoop earring in her left ear as she rose from of her never-slept in queen bed. She glanced in the mirror, making sure her makeup was straight before heading into the living room. Adjusting to her three-inch heeled boots and the snug fit of her jeans, she wobbled a bit down the hallway before acclimating to the higher elevation of her shoes. She pulled a tube of lip gloss from a rarely used purse and lacquered her lips to coordinate with her smoky eyes. It appeared that the Sergeant had a date tonight.
DiNolfo hit the button on her answering machine again. She had forgotten the name of the place she was asked to go to. A man’s voice on the tape briefly spoke.
“Meet me at the Rusty Nail.”
The Rusty Nail, huh? Charming.
DiNolfo grabbed her keys and her gun from the end table, and gave her apartment one last look around before heading out the door.
* * *
Joe Piedmonte arrived at the Rusty Nail shortly before 9:00 that night and took a seat at the far booth on the right. He ordered a pair of drinks while he was waiting, a pint of Allagash for himself and a glass of Riesling for DiNolfo, and he stared out the window waiting for his dinner partner to arrive. Finally, DiNolfo arrived, parking the Skylark in the parking lot in back of the establishment before walking to the back of the restaurant, knowing exactly where Joe would be sitting. She let out a sigh as a smirk grew on her lips. Joe was simply staring; it had been years since he saw Jenna with her hair down. It was quite becoming.
“Here,” offered Joe, as he pushed the glass of Riesling towards her, “Drink up. You need it.”
“That is a true statement if I ever heard one. It’s been a rough first week on the job,” Jenna replied appreciatively.
“I’m glad to see you’re back, and I know the Morrows are thrilled to have a competent officer on the task.”
“Speaking of them….”
Joe’s face turned a little red as he spoke, “Somehow I knew we weren’t here for my good looks and charm.”
Jenna let out a laugh and sheepishly said, “Well, I wouldn’t go that far, I was just curious if you had some insight. You know that’s not why I agreed to come though.”
“I know, I’m only kidding with you. Drink some more. We gotta lighten you up a bit.”
DiNolfo took a sip from her wine glass and smirked at Joe as he gulped at his mug of beer.
“You know, I’m more of a beer girl.”
“I can get you one. What do you want?”
“What are you drinking?”
“This. Some new brew Chuck got in… Allagash I think it’s called. Pretty good actually.”
“I’m game.”
Joe ordered his dinner guest a tall one and then diverted his attention back to her. “So what kind of insight are you looking for?”
“What is Earl and Amos’ deal, and what do they have against Jack Morrow?”
Joe pensively thought about her question, mulled it over, but sat quiet. Just as Jenna was about to open her mouth and ask “Well?” he piped up.
“There is a very specific reason I asked you to come to this lovely establishment.”
Jenna looked around. She couldn’t decide what was more “lovely” - the dusty elk head that was hanging over the front door, the collection of rusty nails that hung on the walls, or the clientele, which consisted of an assortment of foul-mouthed factory workers, a couple of modern day moonshiners trying to sell their wares and a bevy of motorcyclists, who spent more time arguing with Chuck the bartender than they did actually drinking the pints he poured.
“I would absolutely love to hear why you decided to bring me to the Rusty Nail.”
Joe smiled candidly before bringing a single finger up to his mouth indicating the need for quiet. He pointed to the booth behind me.
“Speak of the devils.”
DiNolfo’s eyes went wide as a devilish grin grew across her face.
“No! Are you serious?”
Amos and Earl had taken the booth directly behind Joe and Jenna. Unaware that their boss was sitting right behind them, Amos and Earl began voicing their grievances over their light beers.
“With Kendricks gone, we are not going to get our money. So we might as well just rat him out.”
“I never liked that term, rat. We are doing our civic duty of delivering justice. Fifteen years late.”
“We have to do it carefully. We have to make it seem like he threatened us, not vice versa. She’ll hang us by our hides”
DiNolfo sat perfectly still, fuming in her booth as Joe looked down at the floor trying to keep his face hidden. He was laughing into his palm as he sneaked peaks of Jenna’s face, red and murderous.
“What are we supposed to do about that case file though? You know she is eventually going to read through the whole thing.”
“The only person speaking the truth is a guy that’s holed up in Pennington prison. I’m not that concerned.”
“Shit, I am. That guy’s been writing to the Bugle. Didn’t you see that piece last week, ‘Was Benson Framed?’ Benson is a problem. He knows all about the pay-offs. And if Benson starts talking, Trafford will, too.”
“One thing’s for sure though, I am not covering for Kendricks if he isn’t paying his dues. They’ll swoop in on him so fast - kidnapping charges and fifteen-year-old murder charges, and who the hell knows what else. I can see it now. The papers will be calling us heroes.”
“Not if she finds out that Kendricks’ been paying us to keep quiet about Catherine.”
“Stop saying that so loud. Someone might hear you!”
DiNolfo had heard enough. She whispered across the table while grabbing Joe’s hand. “I’m going to have to take a rain check but we will do this again real soon, only without this next part.” Joe smiled as he said, “Do your thing, girl. I’ll catch up with you later.”
DiNolfo jumped from her booth and confronted the two deputies, still in their uniforms as they chugged down their light beers.
“What the hell are you doing here?!” asked Earl incredulously.
“Me? I’d say I am arresting you.” said DiNolfo calmly as she stared at Earl. “And you,” she directed at Amos.
“On what charges?!” they said in unison.
“Let’s see. Obstruction of justice, blackmail. I’ll know more once I read the rest of the case files and follow up with Benson and Trafford.” She pulled her walkie-talkie up to her mouth, “Sergeant DiNolfo… I need backup at the Rusty Nail.” She cuffed Earl, the one she thought was most likely to run and plopped him down in his seat, while she cornered Amos in his booth.
“Tell me now, and speak clearly” DiNolfo demanded as she turned on her voice recorder, “who is responsible for the murder of Catherine Morrow?”
Earl and Amos stared at each other tight-lipped, though it was clear that Amos’ resolve was weakening. He began to speak, his voice in nothing more than a whisper at first.
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it a murder… but Bernard Kendricks is the reason Catherine Morrow is dead.”
“Pardon?” asked DiNolfo incredulously, “I know what I heard.”
“Don’t get me wrong, the reason she is dead is because of Kendricks, but it wasn’t no murder, in the ordinary sense.”
“Spill your guts. Right here, right now.”
Amos told her everything. He told her about Kendricks stalking Catherine relentlessly. He told her how Jack had gotten the restraining order when he found Kendricks in their backyard. He told him about the pictures in which Kendricks showed up, the heaps of letters of threatening and disturbing nature. He even told her how Catherine died.
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