Shadow Dancer (The Shadow Series Book 1) (31 page)

“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!” She 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.

* * *

“Get to the stables! There is a phone in there!” yelled Tommy as he and the boys ran across the land in search of a phone. It felt like they were running for miles, their breath heavy as panic rose in the pit of their bellies. Finally they reached the stables, hearts pounding, but as Shane picked up the phone, the expression on his face morphed from one of hope to one of disbelief.

“It’s dead.”

* * *

Tristan moved stealthily towards the foyer, closer to where the noise had sounded, trying to determine who was in the house with her. Old houses make noises, remember? A
groaning floorboard, or maybe a shifting settlement. This was different. It was as if she could hear the rubber of a boot hitting the floor. There! She heard it again. That was no settling foundation. She felt every hair on her arm stand up, as every nerve protested in fear. She knew that if she turned around now, she would see his longing stare. She wasn’t alone.

Kendricks had to stifle his laughter. This was so easy. It was so easy to manipulate people. So easy to get what he wanted. But Catherine had always been a challenge. He knew she wouldn’t come so easy. Slowly, he made his way around to the back of the house and descended into the storm cellar. It was only a matter of time now.

* * *

Jack finally reached his truck, threw his crutches into the passenger seat, and lifted himself gingerly into the driver’s seat. It was uncomfortable to say the least, as his leg lay trapped in a hard cast. If he were shot an inch lower, he wouldn’t have needed the cast at all, but with a shattered knee cap, there wasn’t much else to do about
it. He still had one good leg though. He would just have to be careful. He leaned out to shut the door, reached into the glove box for his gun and pushed hard on the gas, leaving St. Benedict’s behind him.

* * *

DiNolfo stopped the patrol car, heart pulsing and thoughts racing as she stepped into the night. As her boots transferred from gravel to the dirt floor of the forest, the light suddenly turned off, leaving her in complete darkness. She grabbed the flashlight out of her jacket, flicked it on, and allowed it to illuminate a path before her. Nerves on edge, she peered around from left to right, catching the glare of a deer standing in the fog that had
lingered off the mountain. The forest was eerily quiet. Not a cricket nor a bird rustled, but as quiet as it was, DiNolfo knew that she wasn’t alone