Stolen Innocents (The Shadow Series Book 2)

by Kline, Addison

  Liam sighed as he responded, “At this time, we ask that anyone that has any information in relation to the crime to contact the Elkhart Police Department at 717-555-9624. Thank you.”

  Liam walked away, ignoring the reporter’s follow-up questions.

  The TV faded to black as Jack sat the remote down on the coffee table. Jack let out a deep sigh and everyone looked at him with questions in their eyes.

  “Tommy, I’m afraid I have some horrible news to share,” Jack said in a soft voice.

  Tommy looked at his father wide-eyed as he felt his control begin to quiver out of balance.

  Jack continued, “They found Courtney outside of Monte’s this morning. Someone shot her, son.”

  Tommy’s jaw dropped just slightly. Tristan’s eyes darted to her father’s face with a hard glare. Natalie leaned against her brother and gasped loudly after hearing about her next-door neighbor’s fate. After the initial shock, all eyes shifted to Tommy’s face. It took him a moment to process what had just been revealed to him.

  It was Tristan who moved first, wrapping her arms around her brother. As she gripped him tightly and brushed her fingers through his hair, Tommy lost his resolve. Tristan felt Tommy’s body shake under the pressure of her hold. He grabbed her shoulder and squeezed tightly as emotion began to fill up his eyes. He didn’t cry. No one expected him to. What happened was far more heart-wrenching than that. Bridgette watched her nephew’s eyes as his sanity threatened to flicker out of sight; like a burning candle’s flame in the wake of terrible storm.

  “Steady, Tom…” Tristan warned, talking in a calm, soothing voice.

  She wasn’t letting go. She couldn’t. There were very few people that Tommy trusted on this earth, and Tristan happened to be one of the people he confided in most.

  “Say something,” Jack begged as tears formed in his eyes from watching his son endure so much pain.

  He had been there himself at one point. Someone had taken his Catherine away. He knew what a blow to the gut it was. He also knew that no matter how much time passed, the pain didn’t subside. Tommy allowed his head to fall into Tristan’s lap. He balled his left hand into a tight first and squeezed until it turned white. He slammed his fist into his thigh again and again. Finally, he raised his head. His brown eyes were distant, nearly vacant. Tommy tried to speak, but when his lips moved, nothing came out. Everything that Jack had said was racing through his brain. His thoughts battled with the memory of last night. Tommy’s final words to Courtney were, “I’ll see you around.” They had ended on bad terms with Tommy calling off their relationship around three in the morning after Courtney had told him that her father didn’t want her to have anything to do with him anymore. A sense of guilt rose in Tommy so great that it threatened to turn his stomach inside out. He looked up at the wall over the entertainment stand where various pictures hung. He found the picture of him and Courtney that was taken just a few weeks prior at Blake’s birthday party. Tommy’s eyes traced the curve of Courtney’s smile, the shape of her eyes and the straight edge of her hair. He couldn’t take it anymore. He allowed his anger to take free reign. Tommy’s head dropped back into Tristan’s lap as a horrible, bone rattling wail cried from his lungs. It bounced off every square inch of the manor house and threatened to seep into the wood. The sound fractured Jack’s heart as Catherine’s face came to the forefront of his mind. He knew exactly what his son was going through.

  ***

  Moira did what she did best whenever there was a family crisis: Cook. Moira had served up a massive breakfast feast to try to help shift the dark mood that had set within Morrow Manor. The family had settled at the dining room table as they devoured their breakfast which consisted of eggs, French toast, home fries, and bacon. Everyone except Tristan and Tommy sat at the table stuffing their bellies with food.

  After Tommy’s breakdown, Tristan yelled at her father to clear the room. “You have the emotional depth of a boulder! That is not something you tell him in front of everyone! Clear the room. NOW!” Tristan screamed in fury.

  Tristan was highly upset with Jack that he didn’t have the emotional sense to pull Tommy aside and break the news gently. Jack cleared the room as his daughter commanded, leaving her and Tommy alone in the living room. If anyone could talk some sense into Tommy, it was definitely Tristan; especially after everything that she went through just three years earlier.

  ***

  Jack looked up from his breakfast in surprise as Tristan walked into the dining room with Tommy in tow. His face appeared calmer and more somber instead of the wild, angry and out of control expression he wore in the living room. Whatever Tristan had said to him had certainly backed Tommy away from the ledge.

  In a nonchalant tone of voice, Tristan yelled out, “You heathens have better saved us some breakfast!”

  Tommy sat down next to Jack without saying a word and dug into his breakfast without making eye contact with anyone.

  Tristan whispered in her father’s ear, “Give him space.”

  “He can have all the space he needs, but he’s not leaving the house except to go to school,” said Jack warily.

  “He has no intentions to. He’s going to be using my bedroom for a while.”

  “That’s fine, but I’m taking the key.”

  ***

  “Do you have any idea who did this?” Cole asked Tommy with a worried edge to his voice. Cole had the same worry that Jack and Frank had. What if whatever man did this, comes after Tristan next?

  “I have two main suspects,” said Tommy in an exhausted voice. It was the first he had spoken at the dining room, and suddenly all eyes were on him.

  “Who do you think did it?” asked Cole knowing damn well what two names would fly out of his best friend’s mouth.

  Tommy’s eyes went dark.

  “That slimy bastard Hunter McCord and the rodent that is Jesse Trafford.”

  Jack shook his head at Tommy.

  “It probably wasn’t Trafford. Joe and I were in Shooter’s Pool Hall last night when he got taken out in cuffs. DiNolfo arrested him herself after he was spoutin’ off terroristic threats to one of the bikers in the pool hall. He wasn’t such a fan of you either. He dropped your name a few times. He was like a caged animal. I don’t know who pissed him off, but I never saw him look that out of control. I guess it all depends on what time he got released this morning.”

  Tommy rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to mention that it was him who pissed off Trafford, because then he’d have to explain why he had confronted him in the first place. Jack was breathing down Tristan’s neck enough as it is.

  “One of those two greasy rats had something to do with this...” insisted Tommy.

  “Maybe he put someone up to it, then,” suggested Cole as he caught a glare from Jack. “After all, he was bothering Courtney at her house last week.”

  “It definitely wasn’t McCord. Liam and Adam took him out of the party last night in cuffs. Cole got you out of there just in time,” Jack warned with a nervous glare.

  “Like Cole said… Maybe it was one of them and they are working with someone,” said Tommy.

  “Or maybe it was none of them. An outsider that nobody expects,” thought Tristan.

  “Or maybe we should leave the investigating up to the professionals,” suggested Jack. Jack’s comment caused Frank to do a double-take.

  “Now there’s a change of tune that I never thought I’d hear! Jack Morrow cooperating with the local police,” Frank quipped loudly with a tone of surprise.

  Jack couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Well, yeah… Considering the police squad isn’t comprised of a bunch of corrupt weasels anymore. I’m more than happy to let them do their job.”

  Frank eyed Tommy, “Are we in agreement that with the exception of school, that you are to stay put until this is all squared away?”

  Though Tommy wanted to hit the streets and pound in the face of whoever was responsible, he had heeded Tristan’s words very carefully.


  “I’m not going anywhere. Especially since you’re holding my ride hostage.”

  “Better believe it,” added Frank with a serious tone of voice.

  “With that being said,” Jack mentioned cryptically as he stared at Tristan. Tristan’s stomach dropped. “I want you to stay put, too.”

  “This is not about me, Dad.”

  “An innocent young woman was murdered outside of your work. I want you here.”

  “I have school and I have work… I’m saving up for a car.”

  “Well then, you are going to be escorted to and from.”

  Tristan rolled her eyes.

  “When are you going to realize that I am more than capable of handling myself?”

  “When I’m dead.”

  Part Two

  A Thickening Plot

  Footsteps approaching,

  A hallow heart soaring.

  I wasn't alone,

  As the day was dawning.

  Cool breath on my neck,

  Your veil was falling.

  The sunlight revealed,

  Your nightly calling.

  You presented yourself,

  In a glow of white.

  What horror struck me,

  For such a heavenly sight.

  Your eyes took me in,

  Wild and bright.

  And as you reached for my soul,

  I screamed with all my might.

  ~Excerpt from Phantom Flight by Addison Kline

  Chapter 12

  June 18, 2000

  Trafford’s Auto Body

  Elkhart, PA

  3 P.M.

  “Where have you been, boy?!” yelled Harry Trafford at his youngest son Jesse, who had just walked through the front door of Trafford’s Auto Body.

  Jesse was soaked to the bone from the rain. Jesse ignored his father’s question that was overloaded with innuendo. He brushed by his father bumping hard into Harry’s burgeoning stomach. This only caused Old Man Trafford’s mood to worsen. Before Jesse could get away from his father’s wrath, Harry gripped Jesse by his hair. Jesse screamed as he felt Harry’s dirty, long fingernails dig into his scalp. Pieces of hair ripped from Jesse’s scalp as Harry yanked his son just a mere inch from his face.

  “You better not have had anything to do with the murder of that girl!” Harry yelled as his putrid breath reached Jesse’s nose. Jesse scrunched up his face in protest.

  “Damn! Your halitosis is enough to kill me,” said Jesse ignorantly.

  This only caused Harry’s temper to flare. Harry gripped Jesse’s hair even tighter as he came nose to nose with his son.

  In a threatening voice Harry grilled Jesse, “Piece of shit. If I find out that you had anything to do with this, the cops will be the least of your worries! Trust that! What would your mother think?!”

  “What girl?! I don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about! And don’t even bring Mom into this! What would she think about you doing time for theft and leaving me with Mick and Jerry?!”

  Suddenly, the bell over the front door rang as Sergeant Jenna DiNolfo walked through the front door with an impatient scowl on her face.

  “Afternoon, Trafford. I need to have a word with your boy,” Jenna said pointing in Jesse’s direction.

  Harry quickly loosened his grip on Jesse’s hair as blond wisps of hair fell to the floor. Jesse rubbed his red scalp where his hair once was.

  “Me? Why you gotta talk to me?”

  “I’m going to need you to come back down to the station and answer some questions I have.”

  Jesse stared at DiNolfo with deer in headlight eyes. Jenna knew what would happen next.

  “I suggest you don’t run away. If you make me chase you, it’s just going to make things a whole lot worse for you. I know you can’t stand me when I’m pissed off…” Jenna reminded with a hard edge to her voice as she recalled how Jesse had called her a “bulldozin’ bitch” when she had to tackle Jesse in the back of Shooter’s Pool Hall last night.

  Jesse contemplated DiNolfo’s warning, but as usual, he threw caution to the wind. He barreled out the back door of Trafford’s Auto Body, ran across the dirt yard, climbed up the wet chain link fence and landed hard on the other side as he fell into a puddle of mud. A figure stood over Jesse and shook his head.

  “You’ll never learn, will you?!” yelled Adam Morrow as he lifted Trafford to his feet.

  “We just want to ask you some questions, but when you run, that makes you look awful suspicious.”

  “Questions… Questions about what?!” Jesse asked in an agitated voice.

  “About the murder of Courtney O’Mara. Now let’s go,” said Adam as he pushed Jesse into the back of his patrol car.

  ***

  Police Officer Liam Morrow walked into Quiver’s Ammunition and Hunting Shop with a manila envelope in his hand. His boots tread loudly over the linoleum floor alerting Ethan Quiver that someone had come into the store. Ethan turned around on his stool, casting a wary look towards the officer. He knew they’d be showing up eventually.

  “Ethan… Is your old man in? I have a couple questions for him,” asked Liam cordially.

  Ethan breathed a small sigh of relief. Liam took note and lifted his left eyebrow.

  “He’s actually on leave from the store. He had to get surgery on his back. Is there anything I could help you with?” Ethan reluctantly offered.

  “Yeah. First I want to ask where you were this morning between the hours of 5 A.M. to 7 A.M.?”

  “I was at my other job.”

  “What other job?”

  “I work at the bottling factory at night.”

  “Can anyone vouch for your where abouts?”

  “Sure. The overnight supervisor.”

  “Can I have his information?”

  “It’s a her… Donna Giampetro.”

  Ethan wrote down the overnight supervisor’s phone number and passed it to Liam. Liam was verifying the whereabouts of all the men in Elkhart. They had to be sure they weren’t missing anything. Liam eyed him speculatively; unsure of whether or not he could rely on Ethan’s assistance. He hadn’t been the most reliable source of information in the past. Since Ed was out on medical leave, it appeared he didn’t have much choice in the matter.

  “Is there something else I can help you with?” asked Ethan with a puzzled expression.

  “Alright, maybe you can help me with something else then,” said Liam as he opened the envelope. He pulled a Polaroid photograph out of the envelope and passed it to Ethan. Ethan could tell that it was the print of some sort of hiking boot that was captured in the mud.

  “I need to know if you can identify this print. It appears to be a hiking boot. I need to know if you sell something here that would make this print.”

  “Hard to say right off the bat, but there is an easy way to tell,” said Ethan as he hopped down from his stool.

  Liam followed Ethan to the far wall where all of Quiver’s boots were displayed. Ethan began picking up each boot and comparing its sole to the photograph. After about thirteen pairs of boots, Ethan had finally come up with a match.

  “This is the Expedition style 2032 hiking boot. It’s an exact match.”

  “Any idea who might have purchased this shoe?”

  “Not offhand because it’s not a very popular style this time of year,” explained Ethan.

  “How do you know they bought it recently?”

  “The track… The design is not worn down at all.”

  “Can you check your records? It’s a size eleven,” Liam pressed becoming impatient with the shop clerk.

  “Yeah, I can do that… Hold on.”

  Ethan went to the back of the store and returned with a binder that contained a book of barcodes.

  “Hmm… Let me see… This is the Expedition style 2032…” mumbled Ethan as he referenced a page in his binder. He typed in a series of numbers into his register, as Liam waited patiently.

  “Only three people purchased
this particular boot in the last three months. It’s really only popular during hunting season…” Ethan explained.

  “I need those names, Ethan…” Liam pressed as he glanced impatiently as his watch.

  Ethan scrawled the names of the three customers on a white notepad. As Ethan passed the paper to Liam, he mentioned, “Hey, your kid brother bought a pair, too.”

  Liam controlled his face as he took the paper. Ethan had scrawled messily on the paper:

  Hunter McCord

  Thomas J. Morrow

  Jesse H. Trafford