Stolen Innocents (The Shadow Series Book 2)

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Stolen Innocents (The Shadow Series Book 2) Page 7

by Kline, Addison


  “Let’s just pretend this never happened, Jesse,” said Tristan sternly, now more angry than irritated.

  “Tristan…” Jesse said as he squeezed her wrist tighter.

  “It’s Miss Morrow to you!” spat Tristan venomously as she ripped her wrist from his grip.

  She turned on her heel and made a beeline for the kitchen. Cole watched as Jesse reached for Tristan’s shoulder in an attempt to turn her around, and Cole saw red. As Tristan raced towards the kitchen she whipped right past Cole and stormed out the back door.

  Before Cole could take charge, Joe had barreled out of the kitchen. He slammed his hands down on Jesse’s table causing Jesse to jump back towards the window.

  “What did I tell you about bothering the girls in here?! Time to go!”

  Joe lifted Jesse by his shirt collar and pushed him out the front door, causing to land face first in the dirt.

  “You’ll be sorry, Monte! Mark my words!” yelled Trafford as he scrambled off down Mountain Road.

  ***

  Cole pushed open the back door of Monte’s with a loud squeak. He found Tristan sitting red-faced and seething on the bench that sat against the back wall of the property. She kicked at the gravel with her white sneaker as she stared down at the ground, deep in thought. Cole was trying to keep his cool. One of the things that Tristan loved most about Cole was his ability to keep a level head when things got heated. He wasn’t a hot head like Tommy, Adam, or her father, Jack. He worked well under pressure and he rarely lost his cool.

  “What did he say?” asked Cole calmly.

  Tristan simply shook her head. She wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Though he didn’t like to, Cole pressed the matter. He had to know if he needed to kick Trafford into next month. Lord knows he could have the Morrow boys assembled on Mountain Road in less than an hour, if need be.

  “Tristan…” Cole urged, trying to get a conversation out of her.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Tristan said abruptly.

  “Tristan, you can tell me,” said Cole. His patience was hanging on by a fragile thread. Tristan looked up at Cole with watery eyes.

  What did that bastard say?!

  Tristan wasn’t exactly known for turning on the water works. Trafford must have really said something vicious.

  “Let’s just drop it…” pleaded Tristan firmly.

  Cole wasn’t having it.

  “Tristan,” he said more firmly than before. “You need to tell me!”

  “Please!” she barked at Cole.

  Tristan hated having to be so firm with Cole. The fact of the matter was that she couldn’t bring herself to repeat the words that came out of Jesse Trafford’s mouth just five minutes ago. All sympathy that Tristan once harbored for Jesse was gone and was now replaced with the sentiment that he was nothing more than a trouble-making chauvinistic pig.

  “I’m not leaving until you tell me what he said.”

  “Oh, fine!” said Tristan getting annoyed.

  She didn’t want Cole or her brothers getting into fights over something petty. Tristan did not understand that something that she conveyed as petty, was actually taken quite serious by Cole and her brothers. Tristan whispered into Cole’s ear and told him exactly what Trafford said. His impatient look turned into an expression of supreme fury. Though he had much that he wanted to say, Cole bit his tongue.

  “Look, I have to finish my shift… It’s just Trafford being a pig. No need to get yourself arrested, or my brothers, for that matter,” said Tristan as she rose from the bench.

  “When you’re done your shift, come for a walk with me…” Cole suggested. He didn’t like seeing her upset, but there was no use fighting with her. Tristan could handle herself, he knew, but he also felt like it was his job to protect her from idiots like Jesse Trafford.

  Tristan smiled as she agreed, “Okay, like a half hour… And thanks.”

  Cole pulled Tristan into a hug while the gears in his head spun. As he watched his girlfriend go back inside, Cole pulled a black cell phone from his jean pocket.

  “Yo Tommy…” Cole said into the phone with a dangerous tone to his voice.

  “What’s up?” blurted Tommy from the other end of the line.

  “Meet me behind Montes in ten minutes,” Cole demanded.

  “On my way.”

  ***

  Joe was in the kitchen when Tristan returned. Nonchalantly, he glanced at Tristan as if nothing had happened. He focused his attention on slicing a tomato on a cutting board, trying not to make her feel uncomfortable.

  “You good?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” said Tristan reassuringly.

  “We have a few more tables to collect orders for, and then you can go for the day.”

  “You got it.”

  ***

  A group of women in their late ‘30s had converged in the dining room and were now seated in the same booth where Jesse Trafford had sat earlier. Their presence immediately lightened Tristan’s mood. The ladies were part of a group called the Corrigan Street Literary Collective, which was a book club comprised of five friends who all happened to grow up on Corrigan Street. The members of the group included Audrey Henning, April Dearing, Jackie Prince, Claudia Black and Shauna Peck. Only four of the ladies had arrived, so Tristan decided to give them a few minutes before she would take their order. The ladies showed up every Thursday night to gossip, catch up and discuss their book of the week.

  From behind Tristan, the front door of Monte’s swung open again as the final member of the book club arrived. A petite, dark haired woman with a pixie cut walked in and loudly greeted her companions as she traipsed across the restaurant without a care in the world.

  “Oh! Look who decided to join us!” said April Dearing, a fair skinned woman with a crew cut.

  As Audrey Henning took her seat at the table, she smiled at everyone and continued to chatter loudly, clearly ignoring April’s comment.

  “You will never guess who I just saw!” declared Audrey in an excited voice. Collectively, the women replied,

  “Who?!”

  Audrey paused for dramatic effect, and then blurted out,

  “Angie O’Mara!”

  “Get the hell outta here!” yelled Shauna, a blonde woman who wore entirely too much hairspray.

  “You serious?!” said Jackie with a shocked look upon her face.

  “Dead serious!” replied Audrey

  “Who?!” asked Claudia, their absent-minded friend.

  “You don’t remember? Oh, my God, Claud…” blurted out April.

  “Tiffany’s sister…” said Audrey.

  “The weird girl that followed Tiff everywhere?!” exclaimed Claudia.

  “Yeah!” the group said in monotone.

  “I thought she left…”

  “She did! Years ago… Right after Tiffany was found murdered. It was too much for her, I guess,” Shauna lamented.

  “Oh, my God. That was horrible! How did Angie look?” asked April with muted concern.

  “Not as good as us, that’s for sure!” said Jackie, “Right, Aud?”

  Audrey did not disagree.

  “She was looking pretty run down…”

  Tristan tried not to laugh as she listened to the conversation. Finally, she approached the table, since it was almost time for her to clock out. Tristan was greeted warmly by the ladies.

  “Our favorite waitress!” proclaimed Audrey loudly. Tristan smiled warmly in response.

  “How’s your aunt doing?!” asked Jackie, “Tell her I said hi!”

  “I will. She’s doing good.”

  “Oh good, you’re here. I’m starving,” said April rudely.

  Tristan took their order and passed it off to Joe before clocking out. She was happy to put the chaotic work day behind her.

  ***

  “He said what?!” Tommy barked at Cole as he got off his motorcycle.

  “Trafford said he wanted to get to know Tristan on an up- close and personal basis
, and not me or you would be able to stop him.”

  “Like hell he will.”

  “He tried to tell her that I was controlling her and that he could show her what it meant to have a good time.”

  “And you didn’t deck him right there on the spot?”

  “Joe got in the way.”

  “Probably a good thing. You don’t want to do jail time.”

  “Yeah…Handle that for me.”

  “Not a problem, dude. He’s got it coming.”

  ***

  As Tristan stepped out the back door of Monte’s, she heard the faint roar of a motorcycle skidding off into the distance.

  “Was Tommy here?” Tristan asked in a surprised voice.

  “Yeah. He stopped by for a minute,” said Cole nonchalantly.

  Tristan shrugged. This was nothing unusual. Cole and Tommy had become very close over the years, especially since Kendricks kidnapped Tristan just three years ago.

  “So where are we going?” Tristan asked.

  Cole shrugged his shoulders casually as he smiled.

  “Wherever our feet take us.”

  ***

  Tommy Morrow had a dangerous look in his eyes as his motorcycle came to a screeching halt outside of Trafford’s Auto Body. He was in a foul mood after talking to Cole and he wasn’t about to back down from the likes of Jesse Trafford. Tommy’s jaw clenched as he dismounted his bike. Attitude poured from Tommy like venom, infecting everything it touched. He marched across the gravel parking lot with vengeance in his step.

  Jesse Trafford had better say his prayers.

  Tommy pushed the front door to Trafford’s Auto Body open with a bang. His loud footsteps echoed through the shop breaking up the silence like a howl in the night.

  “Trafford!” Tommy yelled loudly.

  Harry Trafford appeared behind the register with a nasty look on his face. He wiped grease across his yellowing shirt that barely covered his bulging beer belly. As he spoke, Tommy caught a whiff of his putrid breath.

  “Morrow… What the hell do you want?” griped Harry, clearly not in the mood for any lip.

  “Where’s your boy?” asked Tommy brazenly. He tried not to gag at the smell of Harry’s horrible breath; a by-product of poor hygiene and neglect.

  Before Trafford could respond, Tommy heard what sounded like someone running fast across the gravel parking lot. Tommy whipped around and cursed loudly.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  Tommy stormed out the door and ran for his bike. The engine of his Harley revved to life as Tommy chased after Jesse down Elk Road. Jesse was fast, but he was no match for Tommy’s juiced up engine. No matter how fast Jesse ran, he was a sitting duck. Tommy’s engine roared up Elk Road and when he had Jesse right where he wanted him, he made a sharp turn. The wheels of the motorcycle screeched in protest. A cloud of dirt kicked up around Jesse and he couldn’t see a thing. When the dust cleared, Jesse knew he was done for. Tommy had Jesse pinned between his bike and the back wall of Quiver’s Ammunition and Hunting Shop. There was nowhere to run.

  “Why you runnin’ Trafford?!” Tommy yelled with anger in his voice.

  Jesse didn’t say anything as he stared at Tommy with a clenched jaw.

  “I just want to talk to you. Why you runnin’?” Tommy asked again, only this time a tad bit calmer.

  “There ain’t nothin’ to talk about!” insisted Jesse.

  “Oh, but you see, there is…” said Tommy coolly as he climbed down off his bike.

  Jesse stayed silent as he tracked Tommy’s movements with his deep-set eyes.

  “First, you bother my girl at her house. Then, I find out that you’re bothering my little sister…” said Tommy, just barely holding on to his self-control. “And I’m supposed to be calm?”

  Jesse laughed.

  “Trust me, dude. I don’t want nothin’ to do with your girl,” Jesse said seriously, but a sly smile soon grew across his face revealing his decaying teeth. “But I wouldn’t mind gettin’ to know your sister better!”

  It took less than a second for Tommy to dismount his bike and get in Jesse’s face. He pushed him against the brick wall of Quiver’s with brute force. Holding his arm across his neck, Tommy snarled at Jesse.

  Through gritted teeth, Tommy seethed, “You touch either one of them and you’re a dead man.”

  Chapter 6

  June 17, 2000

  27 Caribou Road

  Elkhart, PA

  Before Dawn

  Angie woke up with a dull familiar ache searing in her chest. She felt like the walls were closing in around her. There is nothing quite as sobering as returning to the place where your nightmares played out before your very eyes. Then, with the unwanted inheritance from Bernard, it was no wonder Angie couldn’t sleep. The pressure weighed on her like an iron anvil.

  “Shit,” Angie muttered as she threw her blankets off of her.

  The clock radio only said 5:44, but Angie’s mind wouldn’t let her fall back asleep. She swung her legs out of bed and onto the floor. She jammed her foot into something hard and she yelped in pain.

  “Yow!”

  Angie looked down at the floor to see the source of her pain as her thoughts turned violent.

  “Goddamn box! Curse you to the depths of hell, Bernard!”

  Angie scooped up the box and tossed it in the trash bin that sat next to her desk as the photograph that rested inside fluttered to the floor.

  ***

  Roger O’Mara was already sitting at the kitchen table when Angie went downstairs. He was pouring over the Elkhart Bugle with a warm cup of coffee in his hand.

  Without looking up, Roger said, “Early bird Angie…”

  Angie replied with a slight smile, “You know me.”

  Angie was always the lightest of sleepers in the O’Mara household and always the first one awake with Roger when she was a child. She was the first to wake up on Christmas morning, the first to beg for breakfast, and always the first out the door to see what adventures waited for her beyond the confines of 27 Caribou Road.

  “There are donuts on the counter…” Roger offered, pointing to the white box that was overflowing with chocolate and powdered sweets.

  “I’ll pass. I’m just going to grab breakfast while I’m out.”

  “Getting an early start?” Roger asked.

  “Yeah. I have a lot of ground to cover.”

  “Hold on,” said Roger, holding up a finger, “Let me get you the keys…”

  Roger got up from the table and pushed out his chair loudly against the cracking linoleum floor. He was already dressed for work in a smart gray suit with a navy blue striped tie, and white dress shirt. Angie followed Roger into the living room as the grandfather clock in the dining room boomed six times. Roger opened the vestibule door and retrieved a set of keys from a hook on the wall. He dropped the keys into Angie’s open hand.

  “Don’t forget to fill it up when you’re done and please don’t be late for the party. Your mother will have your head,” Roger said only half-joking.

  Before Angie could reply, a loud screech from outside interrupted her train of thought. Roger O’Mara’s calm demeanor was now replaced with an irate and agitated mood. He raced to the front door and onto the porch. Angie followed him, close on his heels. As Tommy Morrow’s motorcycle roared up Caribou Road, Mr. O’Mara’s thoughts turned belligerent.

  “Goddamn menace! Morrow!” Roger yelled up the road. Angie looked at her father wide-eyed.

  “Who was that?!” Angie demanded to know.

  “Tommy Morrow. Your sister’s idiot boyfriend!”

 

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