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Shadow Dancer (The Shadow Series Book 1)

Page 22

by Kline, Addison


  “He had been writing a whole bunch of letters to Catherine, real threatening-like, and she refused to answer them. This only ticked him off further and he started to show up at the house. Well, one letter that Catherine received before Jack could intercept it said that Kendricks would be coming for her when she had the baby. The letter said he had no use for her while she was pregnant with another man’s baby. But he would forgive her in time for loving someone else. The guy is sick in the head. He said they would make a life in another state, I think Utah or Montana, far off the grid. Some random western state. Anyway, after the baby was born he planned to take her west. Well, he showed up just a few hours after she had given birth. Stationed himself in a little hut just west of the Morrow house that Jack and his dad sometimes use for ice fishing. Stayed in that tiny shack throughout the blizzard. I mean you’d have to be insane. Do you remember that blizzard? Anyway, he watched them leave, watched them come back. He watched the family through windows with his bird-watching binoculars. He knew exactly when to come. So when everyone was downstairs, he got her, forced her out the house. No one heard a thing, but then again, those winds… plus it is a really big house. Almost immediately Catherine started to run from him, barefoot through the snow. The chase led them straight to Croft Lake, which was frozen over at the time. He was right on her heels now, pleading with her to come back. The weight of both of them on the ice was causing the frozen sheet to fracture under their feet. This excited him and frightened him all at once. The closer he got to her the more the ice cracked, as if nature knew that they were not supposed to be together. Finally, he was just an inch from her arm. She pleaded with him to let her go. She had a baby, she had children. She had Jack. But the word Jack is what finally set Kendricks off. He closed in, grabbing her hand as the ice gave in beneath them. Kendricks grabbed on to the ice mass, while keeping hold of Catherine’s frail hand. He looked at her and said ’You’ll learn to love me, and you’ll learn to forget about them!’ Catherine replied, ’I never loved you and I never will! I love Jack.’ In a rage, he held her head down, under the freezing water. She fought for a while, flailing her arms and legs trying to escape him until she couldn’t bare it anymore. She drowned. As the water filled her lungs, he screamed like a banshee into the night. Angus Morrow found her later that morning. What’s funny though, if she hadn’t mentioned Jack’s name, she probably would still be alive. Kendricks always said he was the reason she was dead.”

  DiNolfo raised an eyebrow at Amos. “The last time I checked, holding someone under water and drowning them is murder.”

  “Well, I think of murder to be a bit messier. A knife in the gut or a gunshot wound. I did say in the normal sense…”

  “How the hell did you get out of the academy?!” roared DiNolfo.

  “Well…” Amos began.

  DiNolfo began shaking her head wildly from side to side, a strained look on her face. “It was a rhetorical question. Tell me something else… what did he give you?”

  “He’s been paying us one-thousand dollars a month each to keep our mouths shut.”

  “Where’s he getting two G a month on a teacher’s salary?”

  Amos shrugged his shoulders. DiNolfo raised her eyebrow at Earl, wondering if he would have anything to contribute to the conversation. He sniffed once loudly, before looking to the ground. Earl wasn’t in the mood for talking.

  Amos added, “From what I hear, he’s a pretty successful gambler. It’s definitely not an inheritance. His mother didn’t have a dime to her name. Just the house. His biological father comes from money, but he’s been holed up in Pennington Prison for years.”

  Just as they were finishing up, Officers Deacon and Pavil walked in and DiNolfo had them read the now-former deputies their rights as they cuffed them and hauled them off to a county holding cell where they would await their trial.

  Meanwhile, Joe Piedmonte was standing out by his car, clapping as the two deputies were carted off in a patrol car. Sergeant DiNolfo smirked as she approached him.

  “So, are you busy tonight?” she said, with a coy smile.

  “No, my date ditched me in the middle of dinner to arrest some corrupt cops.”

  “Great. Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Anywhere but here.”

  Part Three

  The Final Betrayal

  Chapter Eighteen

  He’s Coming

  October 9, 1997

  Fox Hollow, Pennsylvania

  Nightfall

  “The time for games is over, Catherine!” said Bernard Kendricks as he stared through a pair of black binoculars, setting his sights on the Morrow Manor. Lying on the damp ground, Kendricks followed Tristan’s movements through the house. The sun had gone down hours ago, and in the darkness of the meadow, Bernard Kendricks took satisfaction knowing that no one knew he was there.

  “I love the hunt, the thrill of the chase, but I’m growing tired of this charade. My patience is being tested, and I know how much you hate my temper, but I can feel it rising, furious and violent. It is time to go, time to start our life. You’ll have no choice but to come this time, once all the distractions are removed.”

  Tristan was pacing now. Her nerves were a live wire. She was planning her next move.

  He loved this part of the game. When he didn’t quite know what to expect, but he knew he would win. He had always won before. With Catherine, with Patrice Daly, even with Allison Finkle, and her father from Ohio. He lived for the thrill, and it was upon him. There was a shock of electricity in the air. He could feel it, and it made him feel alive. With each passing moment, Bernard Kendricks felt the allure grow stronger. With each calculated movement, Tristan was heightening her hunter’s desires. He had no longer hungered solely for her flesh. He was bloodthirsty, and he couldn’t suppress it any longer. As Tristan Morrow wandered nervously throughout the house, Bernard Kendricks stored his binoculars away as his worn hunting boots started to trudge silently across the land towards the manor house.

  * * *

  “No, stop it, I’m fine,” insisted Tristan as she batted away an alcohol-soaked cotton ball that was treating her wounds.

  “You’re not fine!” Bridgette said, as she continued to treat her niece’s many wounds, “Sit down!” Tristan’s mind was racing, beating hard in her skull. She watched as Frank put his rifle back in the gun cabinet. “Don’t put that away!” she urged him.

  Frank, eyeing his niece from the opposite end of the dining room, gave her a worried glance. “Tristan, please try to relax. We have an eye on the situation. The house is locked up. If I see any movement I will be out there shooting.”

  “He’s already out there, and he’s not going to wait for you to shoot first. He’s waiting for an opportunity to strike.” Bridgette eyed her niece warily. Tristan needed to rest. She hadn’t had a wink of sleep since she went missing, and it didn’t seem like sleep would be in the cards for her tonight either. What did Tristan say again, “She couldn’t rest until she knew she wasn’t being hunted anymore?” So relieved to have her home, Bridgette just wanted her to relax now, but it was so hard with Kendricks still out there somewhere.

  Hunted. I could definitely see why she would use that particular word.

  DiNolfo had called about an hour ago, letting them know that they had gotten a confession from Amos saying that Catherine’s death was Kendricks’ fault and they had squad cars searching the area. She was almost entirely certain that if Tristan was back, that Kendricks would be out looking for her. A chill shot up Bridgette’s spine as she thought about it.

  “Come on, Tristan, let’s try to get some rest.” Reluctantly, Tristan followed her aunt into the den, eyes looking back on the windows suspiciously.

  * * *

  She is dangerous alone, much less with others to back her up and guard her. It’s time to take out the reinforcements. For me, they are just road blocks. People to get in my way. I already took out Jack. He would never be a bother to me again.
Time to immobilize the big guy and separate the girl from the nurse, Kendricks thought.

  She was so close within his reach now that he could almost taste victory. He had already locked up those annoying boys in the barn. They were already in there, talking to the animals, as if there was nothing to worry about.

  Stupid children. I put the padlock on the barn and clamped it shut. Even the Piedmonte boy. No need to harm them. They were annoying and bothersome students, but they never posed a risk. But then there was that cop lurking around.

  Bernard had taken measures to make sure that she wouldn’t be a bother to them too, at least for a little while. Bernard Kendricks hid in a blind just beyond the orchard where he would wait for Frank to make his rounds surveying the property. He knew their routines. He had watched their nightly comings and goings at great length. The fishing hut had proven to be resourceful once again. He could pick them off one by one until Tristan had no one to defend her. He would take her, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

  He watched through his binoculars as Frank stepped heavy footed down the porch steps, eyeing the perimeter of the farm, his flashlight slicing the darkness as he looked for anything out of the ordinary. If Bernard Kendricks was a snake, he would have bit him. Just fifty feet away, Kendricks had Frank centered in his scope. Bernard followed him, watching his movements, waiting for the perfect moment. He was armed, rifle swinging by his side. If he spotted Kendricks he could easily take him down, but Kendricks had the benefit of disguise. Frank wouldn’t see him until it was too late. He was less than twenty feet away now. Kendricks would need to do something soon. As he watched his target trudge past the blind and into the orchard, he pulled his trigger and watched as the pop of the gun scared the black birds away, and Frank Kilpatrick fell to the ground with a thud.

  * * *

  “Did you hear that?!” Tristan asked Bridgette, wide eyed and alarmed.

  “I most certainly did… Wait here! I’m dead serious, don’t move!”

  Tristan wanted to spring into action but reluctantly did what her aunt told her. She watched as her aunt grabbed the hand gun off the table and ran out the front door. In the silence of the dining room she realized she was alone in the house. Suddenly every window and door was a threat, an entrance that he could sneak into, and creep out of easily and undetected. As the quiet of the house engulfed her, a creaking floor board beneath her sent goosebumps rising on Tristan’s skin.

  * * *

  Blake and Tommy kicked against the barn door hoping to break free, but the door didn’t give enough room to get through. Shane, barreling from twenty feet back charged at the door, but doing so only hurt his shoulder.

  “What the hell are we going to do?! He’s going to get her!” Blake protested, close to tears.

  “Move” demanded Cole as he pulled a hand gun out of his back pocket.

  “Where’d you get that?!” asked Shane curiously.

  Cole smirked, “Your Dad. Now move.” Cole took two shots, one after the other at the lock but missed. He took a deep breath and took another shot; sparks flew, bullet grinding against the lock and finally breaking the chain lock off of the door.

  “Go! Now!”

  * * *

  The headlights of DiNolfo’s Skylark pierced the dark of night as she wound the tight curve off Cavegat Pass and into Fox Hollow. She had taken a short drive with Joe, just catching up, talking about their lives since DiNolfo left the Elkhart area as a kid. They departed, agreeing to meet up again soon, work permitting. Afterwards, she started to make her way back to her apartment. She walked down the long hallway to her unit, got her keys out and even had her handle on the door, but decided at the last minute that she wasn’t ready to turn in yet. Something was calling her to Fox Hollow. Now she was maneuvering through the winding roads of Fox Hollow just minutes from the Morrow Manor. The fog was lingering now, enveloping the car as the sanguine warmth of the day met the chill of the autumn night.

  She eyed her rearview mirror suspiciously as a strange uncertainty took hold of her thoughts. The road wound like a serpent through the mountainside, the forest lying quiet and dark. She knew she should have turned in for a full night’s sleep, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling she had. She was a big believer in intuition. “Follow your gut!” her father always used to say, and something that night was telling her to go to Fox Hollow. She wanted to check in on the ice fishing shack Amos was talking about. If he used it to spy on Catherine last time, he might use it again. She wasn’t sure of the exact location of the little house, but it couldn’t be too hard to find. Then, as she came fully around the turn, she saw a distant light. It was a little ways off into the forest, and it was coming from a tiny shack on the border of the Morrow Manor.

  * * *

  Jack lay in his hospital bed, agitated and fatigued. He had tried to call the house three times in the last hour but the calls were not going through. He needed an update. The news stations were absolutely useless.

  What’s the point of having news stations if they are not going to report actual news?

  Puff pieces about the upcoming harvest festival and hayride safety tips, while the first thirty minutes of the broadcast was dedicated to a corrupt politician in Harrisburg.

  “Crook! I bet if it was one of his daughters missing, it would be on the news nonstop!” said Jack before clicking the TV off angrily. He let the TV remote slam to the floor before picking up the phone to dial the house again. He tried the main house. He called the guest house. He even dialed the business phone in the stables hoping that someone would pick up. None of them did. They weren’t even ringing. He got a mechanical female voice who insisted that his call could not be completed as dialed. “Damn it!” screamed Jack as he slammed the phone down.

  “That’s it! I’ve had enough of this crap,” he huffed as he started ripping off his hospital gown. He reached for the canvas bag Bridgette had left him in the corner. He pulled out a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed the grimy tennis shoes that she had procured from his closet, and gingerly slid one on his good foot. His other leg was hard casted and his foot was too swollen to wear any kind of shoe. He was lucky he could get a sock on it. Just then the burly Nurse Dippet walked in, clipboard in hand and no-bullshit glare on her face.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” Nurse Dippet asked angrily, her purple face pushing too far into Jacks’ personal space for his liking.

  Giving her an irate look, Jack replied, “I am going home. Please bring me my discharge papers.”

  “Mr. Morrow! For the last time, there is protocol for such things, and they do take time.”

  Jack replied in the same condescending tone that the nurse had used against him. “Nurse Dippet, I would suggest you follow your protocol then!”

  “Mr. Morrow, it will take several hours to discharge you. We need clearance from the doctor and -”

  “This is the most backwards, third rate hospital I have ever encountered in my life” he cut across her.

  “That doctor has been over at the nurse’s station for the last twenty minutes chatting with the blond nurse. Tell him to sign it!”

  Nurse Dippet hurriedly waddled out of Jack’s hospital room, muttering under her breath, “Never in my life!” In just twelve minutes, Nurse Dippet had returned with Jack’s discharge papers.

  That must be some sort of record for this chop shop.

  “Please sign this too,” Nurse Dippet said haughtily as she pushed another piece of paper towards Jack. “This paper indicates that you are leaving the hospital of your own accord, and ignoring medical advice. You cannot hold the hospital or its staff responsible if you further aggravate or complicate your injuries.”

  Jack scraped the ink pen across the paper, grabbed his crutches and made his way to the parking lot where he had left his truck before Kendricks left a hole in his knee.

  * * *

  “Frank!” yelled Bridgette, scanning the farm trying to see where the shot came from. “Frank!” S
he heard rustling in the orchard, followed by a scream.

  “Go back inside!”

  “I most certainly will not!”

  Lying on the ground, Frank held one hand at his right shoulder where blood was beginning to soak his shirt.

  “Jesus Christ… Are you alright?!” screamed Bridgette as she ripped off her cardigan and began wrapping it around Frank’s gushing wound in an attempt to control the bleeding. Above them, Frank could see a faint shadow, a figure blocking out the moonlight. Before Kendricks could act, Frank was flailing on the ground below him, kicking and trying to take him down before he had the chance to strike. Frank climbed to his feet with great effort, yielding all his strength into a sucker punch straight to Kendricks’ jaw that sent him flying backwards into the darkness. Shaking his head out of dizziness, Bridgette sat Frank down so she could continue getting the bleeding under control. Thinking Kendricks was down for the count was the biggest mistake she could have made. Bridgette focused on the task at hand and applied pressure to Frank’s shoulder. The last thing that she remembers is an incredible jolt to her skull before being laid out cold by the butt of Kendricks’ rifle.

 

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