Shadow Dancer (The Shadow Series Book 1)

by Kline, Addison

  * * *

  “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

  * * *

  “Who’s there?!” Tristan yelled, thinking that she would get a response from the typically talkative Kendricks. Slowly she backed herself into a corner. An old trick Jack had taught her. Most people think getting backed into a corner is a bad thing, and it usually is, unless you have no clue where your attacker is coming from. Backing yourself into a corner means no one can stab you in the back or surprise you from behind.

  Tristan backed up to the wall, ready to fight. Being in fight mode for over forty-eight hours straight does strange things to your body and mind. She could feel her calf muscles flex and prepare for the onslaught as her strength radiated throughout her body. She was prepared to take him down. While her mind was racing, Tristan allowed fight mode to take over once more. His silhouette now darkened the doorway of the cellar and she would not wait for him to strike first. As the shadow crossed into the foyer, Tristan reached for Frank’s gun from the cabinet that stood beside her and flipped off the safety.

  Finally, he emerged from the cellar and staggered into the foyer, eyes wild and face grim. He stalked around the room until he was directly in front of Tristan, trying to intimidate her with each of his movements. She didn’t falter, she didn’t move, and she didn’t break eye contact. Tristan didn’t recognize him at first; his face was badly bruised from the car accident. His nose appeared to be broken, courtesy of Frank Kilpatrick, and there were bruises all over his arms – a combined contribution from Tristan and the car accident. Kendricks watched her, searching for an ounce of panic in her eyes. It wasn’t there. His stomach lurched. Was it fear? He allowed a smile to form on his face before taking a step forward. But as slow and slick as his movement was, hers were fast and predatorial. She lifted the gun, held it with both hands, stance strong and serious, and aimed the pistol square at his chest.

  “Now, Catherine…”

  “Call me Catherine again and see what happens! I am Tristan. Your student, Mr. Kendricks!” Her tone was stern and serious, all traces of exhaustion and weakness removed. A single click sounded from the gun. Tristan didn’t allow a blink. Kendricks, speaking in his most charming voice, appealed to her kind nature.

  “Truly, there is no need for any of this. I would just like to talk. You know how I feel about you…” Kendricks moved closer, testing Tristan’s mettle.

  “One more step, and I will not hesitate,” she warned him.

  She didn’t raise her voice, but she didn’t falter either, her tone remaining cool and lethal. Bernard stared at her. She wasn’t as similar to her mother as he thought. She was cool under pressure. Catherine would have cracked by now. He remembered how calm she was just before she left him on the side of the road. Suddenly his thoughts were aflame with rage.

  “Catherine…”

  Tristan changed her aim from his chest to his head. A determined look took over her face as she looked him in his eye.

  “Try me.”

  * * *

  “What are we supposed to do?!” yelled Blake looking at the others for direction.

  “We need to go for help!” explained Shane, beginning to lose his cool.

  “My mom still has Tristan in the house, and my Dad is around here somewhere. We need to find a pay phone and call the cops. “

  “We can’t leave her,” yelled out Cole, “I won’t. I refuse.”

  “Cole’s right. We have to get her and Aunt Bridgette out. We have guns, too.”

  Tommy gave the pair a troubled look and replied, “We have a gun. We need to go for help. You too, Cole. We’ll go to your father’s place and wait there for word from the others.”

  “I won’t leave her!” insisted Cole.

  “Listen to me. In order to help her, in order to help everyone, we have to go for help. This is above our heads. We aren’t doing her any good by charging in there and getting ourselves killed,” explained the typically hot-headed Tommy. In a situation of true emergency, he proved to be the most level-headed of all the boys. Shane reached into his cargo pants and tossed Tommy a set of keys. “Let’s go.” Reluctantly, Cole and Blake got in the truck, allowing charged glances to linger back at the Morrow house.

  * * *

  DiNolfo moved closer to the tiny shack, moving quietly, stealthily through the brush as leaves crackled under foot. Finally, she reached the door of the tiny house. She took her flashlight and put it on the padlock which was unlocked and just dangling. She removed the lock from the door, and swung the rusted door open, unaware of the figure that was standing directly behind her.

  “You lost?!” said a voice, startling DiNolfo into action. Gun out, she pointed her flashlight into the face of Liam Morrow.

  “Jesus Christ, kid! That’s a good way to see angels!” Bent over and trying to catch her breath, DiNolfo stared up at the curly haired, rosy cheeked teenager, giving him a look as if she wanted to scream.

  “Sorry. We were keeping watch up in our father’s tree stands. That way if anyone came through here, we could stop them.”

  “Who is ‘we’?”

  Adam climbed down from his tree stand and greeted the Sergeant quietly.

  “We were going through the fishing hut when you showed up. We turned off the light quickly, hoping you didn’t see us. Liam thought you were Kendricks.”

  “It looks like he was using it. There is a bunch of stuff in there that we didn’t leave in there last fishing season. Rope, masking tape, a couple of fake IDs, hunting knives, and that lock. We never lock up the fishing hut. It’s just a hole in the floor and a couple of benches,” explained Adam.

  “I think this is where he took your sister the first time he took her. When you
guys searched the land, didn’t anyone check in here?”

  “We did, but they weren’t inside when we checked,” Liam explained.

  DiNolfo scratched her head in confusion and began to walk to the opposite side of the hut when Adam grabbed her arm quickly, effectively immobilizing her. “Whoa! Watch where you step!” he yelled.

  Perplexed, DiNolfo took out her flashlight and shone it down to the ground to reveal a vicious looking bear trap sitting directly at her feet.

  “It has a safety on, but still, that’ll tear your flesh right off your bone,” explained Liam.

  “Did you guys lay these?” asked DiNolfo, still in shock.

  “No way. Dad likes the wildlife around here. When we go hunting we go up north. My best guess is that whoever was using the fishing hut must’ve laid them to keep the animals - or people - away.”

  The gears in her head were grinding a mile a minute. Adam watched as she appeared to be piecing something very important together in her head. She remembered where she had saw bear traps laid before. The Finkle residence over in Gabbard’s Bend. The home where Bernard Kendricks and his mother used to live.

  “Follow me up to the house. I need to check on something,” requested DiNolfo as she darted for her car.

  * * *

  “Where the hell are Liam and Adam?!” complained Tommy as he drove the truck down the mountain towards the nearest pay phone.

  “They were supposed to be in the woods keeping an eye out for Psycho,” answered Shane.

  “I’m sure they are okay. They were using a couple of Dad’s tree stands to stay out of sight, and Adam had a couple of rifles with him. They’ll be back in the morning,” explained Blake.

  * * *

  “Get back, I said!” warned Tristan, as Kendricks stood perfectly still, not advancing but not backing off either.

  “Catherine, if you were going to fire that gun, you would have done so already. Now give it to me before you hurt yourself,” said Kendricks condescendingly. As he started to move forward, Tristan’s rage boiled over.

  “My name is not Catherine!”

  Tristan squeezed the trigger as hard as she could, but nothing happened. He was coming closer now, slowly, and cautiously. She squeezed again, and again, and again. Still, the gun did not provide the results that Tristan so desperately desired. Kendricks began laughing, sickly, maniacally, as he tried to close the gap between himself and Tristan again. She should have known. Uncle Frank was meticulous about gun safety. He had taken the bullets out before storing it in the cabinet.

  She prepared to fight. Growing up with four brothers, she knew she could take him on, as long as her strength held up. His voice was no longer gentle, but dangerous. His fury was rising and she didn’t know how much longer she could keep him at bay.

  “You have no one to protect you now. You have no choice but to come with me.” He was just inches from her now, feet slowly creeping across the floor, slithering like a snake. Before he would have the chance to touch her, she would attack. She would kill him with her own hands if she had to. She would do exactly what her father had showed her many years ago. Knee to the groin, fingers through the eye socket, and a battery of rib hits, then when he was done, a swift kick to the skull.

  He was reaching for her now, eyes pleading, his hand extended, but still she showed no sign of fear. Just as she thought Kendricks was preparing to charge, he became distracted. Jarred by a loud bang behind him. The front door. Someone was trying to get in. Tristan was furious with herself for locking the front door. Kendricks smiling slyly slid the deadbolt across the door.

  “We have company,” he said to Tristan with a smile, as if he truly expected her to smile back. The bang of a gunshot went off, followed by a metallic clank hitting the deck floor outside and the groan of the oak door slowly opened, revealing Jack Morrow standing on the porch with his pistol aimed at the back of Bernard Kendricks’ head. The gun felt hard against his skull, but somehow a serene calm took over him; a normal reaction would have been to feel fear rise from within. Instead, Bernard Kendricks was excited. He had goose bumps at the complex and dramatic situation that was unfolding before him.

  Kendricks smiled at Tristan, as he sauntered away from the gun still staring Tristan’s way. “Let me guess…” Kendricks began, as he exuded charisma with his every word and every move. “It couldn’t be Corporal Jenna DiNolfo from Pittsburgh, could it? Or is it Sergeant now?” But as he turned around, the smug smile was wiped from his face. He was not in the presence of the person he was expecting. Not by a long shot. Kendricks turned around to Jack Morrow’s wrathful face, a murderous expression written all over his features. His body quaked with rage. It took every ounce of strength in his body to maintain his cool long enough to cock his pistol and aim it at Kendricks’ forehead.

  “Sorry to disappoint.”

  “But you’re dead…”

  “No, but you are.”

  A single click emitted from the gun.

  “This is for Catherine.”

  Jack squeezed the trigger sending a hot metallic death sentence straight into Bernard Kendricks’ forehead. Tristan watched as he fell to the ground, shocked look eternally cemented on his face, twisting in the air, and landing face up at her feet. Jack straddled over him, staring his enemy in the face one last time.

  “And this is for Tristan.”

  He shot one last time, this time in the chest, just shy of his heart - just to make sure he was dead. When it was done, when the bullet was firmly lodged in Kendricks’ chest, Jack dropped the gun to the floor and a flood of air released from his mouth. He realized that he hadn’t exhaled since walking through the door.

  It took Tristan a moment to process the scene. What had just happened here? After days upon days of running and fighting and fleeing, never knowing if she would ever see her family again, never knowing if she would live to tell the tale, Bernard Kendricks was finally dead. For the first time since the ordeal began, she felt like she could breathe fully again. Tristan ran to her father, jumping over the lifeless body of her former English teacher and hugged her father so forcefully that he fell back onto the wall, supporting both of their weight on his one crutch. Into his shoulder, she sobbed.

  “Its okay, my girl… my brave girl. It’s over. It’s all over now.”

  * * *

  “Did you hear that?!” Adam yelled at DiNolfo, who was already running down the path towards her car.

  “Hurry up and get in!”

  She sped up the road hitting sixty miles per hour, the car sounding as if it would break apart from underneath them as gravel flew up and hit the underbelly of the car. DiNolfo didn’t care. She could get a new one. She planned to ask for a raise after this case was over. She had decided days ago that her job in busy Pittsburgh was less stressful than this case had been.

  As soon as the house was in sight she ran for the front door which was now wide open. She could see a man standing in the doorway. DiNolfo skidded to a halt as she approached the porch and ran up the steps. She could see the silhouette of a tall man in the entryway. With her gun drawn, she addressed him.

  “Elkhart Police! Identify yourself!”

  Jack grabbed his crutch and slowly turned himself and Tristan to face DiNolfo. Tristan was still buried deep in Jack’s shoulder, tears flooded down both of their faces. When DiNolfo realized who it was, she couldn’t believe her eyes. That is when she saw the body. Lying on the floor lifeless with a bullet hole in his head, Bernard Kendricks stared lifelessly back at her. Clutching her side, she had to sit down. It was all too much for her.

  “Oh, thank God…” she said, catching her breath as she felt a giant weight rise from her chest. “Is anyone hurt?”

  “War wounds… we’ll live” said Jack trying to lighten up the grim scene, “Right kid?” he said looking at Tristan. Somberly, she shook her head up and down. Adam and Liam watched from afar, still reeling from the events of the last few days. DiNolfo looked up at Jack with a perplexed look.

 
; “Wait… how did you know?”

  “The phone. It had been dead for hours. I tried calling at least a dozen times. I knew then that I had to come.” He looked down at his daughter, who was still gripping his waist tightly as he kissed her on her forehead. “And it’s a good thing that I did.”

  Adam, who was looking perplexed, called up to his father on the porch.

  “Where the hell is everyone?” he asked with a worried look on his usually pleasant face.

  “I have no idea. I just got here,” said Jack wearily. All his attention, all his energy had gone into making sure that Tristan was safe. He had subconsciously always assumed that the boys could defend themselves as long as they stayed together. He was wrong to assume so.