“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Tommy complained.
Jack slapped Tommy in the back of the head lightly, “Don’t you take this out on the Lord. This is your problem. Let’s go.”
As everyone shuffled out of the car, Tristan gave Cole a kiss goodbye.
“Call me when you get in…” Cole called from the Jeep.
***
“Have you lost your ever loving mind?!” Bridgette yelled as she stormed out the front door of Morrow Manor at Tommy who was being led by Jack who had a fist full of his stained t-shirt in his grasp.
“No. I haven’t! Haven’t you ever stood up for anything?!” Tommy asked letting his temper get the best of him. He knew damn well his aunt had.
“As a matter of fact, I have. I didn’t pick a fight with a violent drug dealer, though! Get in. Your uncle is grabbing your motorcycle and it’s being locked in the barn.”
Tommy looked his aunt square in the eyes as a few choice words sat on his tongue just waiting to roll off. He knew better, though. She had raised him. Bridgette treated Tommy no different than her own son. Tommy turned on his heel to face his father.
“Is this your call?!” Tommy demanded to know.
Jack glared at his son seriously, “Don’t look at me… It’s not just me that you hurt with your actions. Now listen to your aunt and go inside.”
Bridgette could feel the heat radiating off of Tommy as he pushed his way past her and went into the house. Bridgette gave Jack a look that showed just how annoyed she was.
“I’ll make damn sure he apologizes,” Jack assured his sister with a serious look written across his features.
“I don’t care about an apology. He has got to get his act together, Jack, before he winds up in prison or worse! He’s going to piss off the wrong person one of these days!”
Jack gave his sister a knowing look.
“Trust me, you don’t have to remind me,” Jack said in a whisper as Tristan, Blake and Shane passed by.
“Straight upstairs. Go…” Bridgette said to the trio that looked more than a little upset.
“Don’t be mad at them. They at least stayed out of trouble,” Jack reminded Bridgette.
“I’m not. I’m just concerned.”
“C’mon. We have a rebel to sort out,” Jack said as he put his arm around his sister and led her into the house.
***
“Damn it!” screamed Tommy as he pummelled a fist into the wall above his bed. Several of Blake’s chess figures fell down onto the floor. The knight spun on its axis crashing into the queen while the bishop slid along the hardwood floor landing just inches from the door.
“Dude, what did you expect to happen? You put yourself in danger.”
“You weren’t there,” said Tommy darkly to his cousin as he dropped his head into his hands.
“You’re right. I had enough sense to get out of there and wait for Cole and Tristan to come back.
Blake and Tristan walked in and while Blake shook his head at his brother, Tristan skidded on the bishop chess piece and slammed into Shane’s bedstand. Growling at the situation, she reached down and picked up the rogue chess piece and placed it on the nightstand.
“You know what I don’t get, Tom?” Blake said as he glared at his brother, his eyes narrowing as he spoke.
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” Tommy said with an attitude.
“Just two days ago, you were ready to break up with her… Now you’re going toe to toe with Hunter McCord for her.”
“She’s still my girl…”
“You’re all over the place, man!” Blake said, the rage clear on his reddened face.
“I don’t need this right now!” Tommy said standing up from the bed.
Tristan had retreated into her bedroom to escape the argument that was boiling to a head. She could still hear their voices which had risen to shouting level. She understood why everyone was mad. Tristan was most in shock that Tommy would put himself in danger, when there wasn’t a real threat. Kicking off her shoes, she reached for her phone to let Cole know she was home safe. After only a few rings, he picked up the phone.
“It’s about time…” Cole said sounded nervous.
“Fog set in trying to get up the mountain, and you know how Jack drives when he’s annoyed.”
“Ah… like a lunatic.”
“Yelled at Tommy the whole way home.”
“He brought it on himself.”
Even his best friend saw his actions as irrational.
“Enough about him. Are we still on for tomorrow?”
“Yeah, movies and mini-golf, right?”
“Pick you up at noon.”
“Have a good night, honey.”
Suddenly the voices in the next room had grown to a deafening level.
“What the hell are they fighting about?” Cole asked.
“Whether Tommy is off his rocker or not.”
“I can answer that one…” Cole said with a laugh.
Trying to control the chuckle that was building, Tristan quickly said goodbye and hung up the phone. Hearing that the argument was quickly coming to a head, Tristan jumped up from the bed and swung open the door.
“You!” she grabbed Blake’s shirt and pushed him on his bed. “And you!” She grabbed Tommy’s arm and pushed him inside her room. “Sleep in here tonight. I need rest. I cannot deal with anymore drama tonight!”
Tommy gawked at his sister, his eyes wide and stunned, that is, until she slammed the door, giving him the quiet he so desperately needed.
Chapter 8
June 18, 2000
Elkhart, PA
Dawn
The rain fell heavily from the stormy sky over Elkhart. It pelted loudly against the window panes and rooftops, and drowned the newly planted flowers in the Piedmonte’s garden. At 25 Caribou Road, Joe Piedmonte was just dragging himself out of bed. Reluctantly, Joe threw the covers off of him and slid his feet into a pair of moccasins. Jenna, who was in bed next to him, was still fast asleep. With great effort, Joe pulled himself out of bed. It was the last thing on earth he wanted to do, get up, but a restaurant doesn’t run itself. Twenty minutes later, Joe was showered and dressed but didn’t feel much more motivated to tackle the day. Loudly, his hiking boots tromped down the hallway towards the staircase causing Natalie’s fat tabby cat Scamp to retreat into her bedroom with a hiss.
“Devil Cat!” Joe yelled at the cat as it nearly scared him out of his skin.
Joe was a pretty laid back guy. He didn’t have a lot of rules for living in his house. Just five:
Stick to your curfew
Keep the house clean
No drugs, booze or cigarettes
Don’t do anything you don’t want me to find out about.
Don’t talk to me before I’ve had my morning coffee.
Scamp had broken Joe’s number five rule. Joe peeked into Cole’s bedroom first – an old habit of his. Cole was knocked out cold with his cordless phone still in his grip. He must have fallen asleep talking to Tristan again. Joe took the phone from Cole’s grasp and put it gently back on the charger where it belonged. Joe closed his door quietly and continued walking down the hall. Next he checked on Natalie, who was snuggled in bed with her cat. As soon as the cat caught sight of Joe, it lifted its fat head and hissed at him again. Joe grabbed a pink spray bottle off of Natalie’s vanity that was filled with water and sprayed it in the cat’s general vicinity.
“Bad cat!”
He had gotten a droplet of water in the cat’s eye. The cat twitched a little then laid down in submission. Joe shook his head.
That’s right. I’m the boss. Not you.
Joe trudged down the stairs, one-by-one, and made his way to the kitchen to brew his coffee. Joe loved his coffee. Like a moth to the flame, Joe was positive that he couldn’t survive without his morning coffee. It wasn’t just any old coffee though. Joe’s choice of coffee blend is a topic of heated debate in the Piedmonte household. He drinks only the Ethiopian Y
irgacheffe blend that Mr. Agape sells at the farmers market over in Chiefsdale. He drove an hour, once a month to Chiefsdale just to buy this imported blend of coffee. Joe could vividly recall the reaction he got when Jenna had taken a swig for the first time.
***
“Got any coffee?” asked Jenna as a yawn escaped from her mouth.
Joe smiled broadly, clearly excited to share his special coffee with someone else.
“Do I?! I’ve only got the best coffee ever…”
Natalie rolled her eyes at her father’s boisterous declaration.
Jenna looked nervously at Joe, skeptical as to whether she should believe him or not.
“Okay…” Jenna replied.
Joe began pouring Jenna a cup of his special blend of coffee. She noted how it looked remarkably like mud, and the smell wasn’t that far off either. Cole and Natalie were sitting at their father’s kitchen table giving DiNolfo looks of warning.
“Don’t do it…” Cole warned with a laugh as he ate his cereal.
“Be quiet!” Joe scolded Cole as he handed Jenna a mug that read “World’s Best Chef.”
“You can’t say we didn’t try to warn you,” remarked Natalie as her eyes scanned the fashion magazine in front of her.
“How bad could it possibly be?” DiNolfo asked as she prepared to take a sip.
Joe watched Jenna’s face as she took a sip of his coffee and immediately regretted standing so close to her. After just one sip, coffee came spewing out of her mouth and showered down over Joe’s face, hair and shirt.
Jenna yelled, “What the hell is this shit?!”
Joe, who had closed his eyes at just the right moment, was now wiping coffee off of his forehead, nose and chin. He grabbed a napkin and dried his mustache which was dripping of his beloved Ethiopian Yirgacheffe coffee.
“Clearly some people don’t recognize culture when they see it! I pay twenty-two dollars a pound for that glorious roast!” insisted Joe.
“I’d say you got ripped off, my friend!” said Jenna as she, Cole and Natalie laughed until they were red in the face.
***
Joe still laughed every time he opened the pantry and saw the coffee can with the smiling camel on it.
More for me!
Joe took one last delightful sip of his coffee before throwing the hood of his coat over his head and stepping out into the miserable weather. Joe always took the same route to work. He walked straight out his front door and made a left on Caribou Road. At the end of the road, he took a short cut through the Forest of York, past the Bone Tree, and down a narrow path that led straight to the back of Monte’s Café. It was an overgrown area of the forest, but it was the easiest way to get to work. He opened the back door of Monte’s with a swift twist of his key. Time to turn the lights on; his kitchen and wait staff would be arriving soon. He went through the same motions every single morning, and after thirty plus years of opening the restaurant, his movements were second nature. He flicked the lights on, powered up the cash register, checked the answering machine for any messages, and preheated the oven to prepare for the morning rush. He walked with purpose through the dining room to make sure all the tables were clean and the floors were swept the night prior. He wanted his guests to have an enjoyable experience. Next, he had to take on the task of pulling up all the shades on the windows. All eight windows.
I really need to figure out a way to make this process automatic.
Finally, when he came to the last window, he pulled the shade like the others, but this time something caused his breath to shorten. As he peered out onto Mountain Road, it wasn’t the rain that caught his attention, or the gaudy lawn ornaments that Edna and Peggy had displayed outside of Harrow’s General Store. It was the erratic tire tracks that swerved through the mud, and the red puddle that lay in the middle of Mountain Road. Amidst the bleak scene were discarded clothes, a gun, and other debris. But nothing troubled Joe Piedmonte quite as much as seeing the undeniably dead body of a young woman laying face down in the mud.
***
Jenna woke up to the unrelenting squeal of the telephone that sat on Joe’s bedside table. She woke with a start, reaching for the phone.
Something had to be wrong, she thought. Joe had always let her sleep in before. Jenna looked at the alarm clock.
6:17 A.M.
Jesus Christ.
“Hullo?” Jenna said groggily into the receiver.
“Better get your boys down on Mountain Road. There’s been a murder.”
***
Jesse Trafford left the Elkhart Police Station with an ill-favored look upon his face. He threw the hood of his sweatshirt over his head as he trudged out into the rain. Skulking down Mountain Road, he was swallowed by the darkness as a feeling of discontent grew in his chest.
Chapter 9
June 18, 2000
Elkhart, PA
Dawn
The sun rose red and fiery over Mountain Road when officers Adam and Liam Morrow arrived on the scene. They had no idea what waited for them outside Monte’s Café. DiNolfo spat into the phone, “Get to Monte’s. NOW!” before she hung up abruptly.
Liam pulled a roll of police tape from the trunk of the police cruiser as he began blocking off the road to oncoming traffic. Adam approached the crime scene with caution as he tried to disturb as little as possible. It took him a moment to process the scene before him. They were in the fickle hour when the sky was just waking but the road before them was still dark. Adam took a flashlight out of his pocket and flicked it on. The bright light cut the early morning darkness and provided glimpses of what nightmare lay in front of them. Puzzle pieces cloaked by darkness. Adam’s mind processed the evidence piece by piece:
A pool of red pulsed under the weight of the heavy rain.
An abandoned gun was carelessly tossed into a puddle.
A ripped t-shirt was soaked and muddy from the rain.
The print of a hiking boot lay stranded in the mud.
A wallet left in plain sight with a driver’s license sticking out.
Adam slowly scanned the road for more signs of evidence. He had thoroughly checked the road ahead. If there was blood, surely there had to be a body somewhere. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. He pointed the flashlight towards his feet. It took a moment for Adam’s brain to process what he saw. A dead woman, no older than twenty years of age, lay dead at his feet. She was a blonde woman with a thin figure and a small “T” tattoo on her right shoulder. Lying face down in the mud, she was scantily dressed with just a bra and a pair of ripped jeans on her body. She was lying face down on top of a green tarp.
She wasn’t killed here…
Adam kneeled at the victim’s side to get a closer look. He hoped he would be able to identify the victim. The torrential rain reduced visibility as it pounded atop his hat and trickled down his shoulders. Crouching down, he was able to get a better view of the victim’s profile. Identification was still difficult because the victim’s face was bloody and bruised. With gloves on, he moved the victim’s head out of the mud, hoping to be able to ID her. Rain poured from the early morning sky, slowly revealing the victim’s identity. The mud washed away from her face in gentle streaks. Her face was badly bruised and her nose was clearly broken. Adam lamented at the victim’s beauty; a life that was taken before it’s prime. Finally, the rain washed away the mud from around the victim’s eyes. Adam became frozen in his shock. A pair of eyes of the deepest blue stared back at Adam. The eyes held a certain depth and sorrow that he had never witnessed when the victim was alive. Adam’s hands trembled and his stomach churned. It took forcible measure to turn his eyes away from Courtney O’Mara’s gripping stare.
How on earth am I going to tell Tommy?
***
Liam secured the perimeter of the crime scene and recommended that Monte’s and Harrow’s close up shop for the day. They closed off Mountain Road to traffic so that they could thoroughly investigate. Edna and Peggy locked themselves inside their apartment abov
e Harrow’s, too petrified to even look outside. Meanwhile, Joe Piedmonte closed up shop to the public but offered to keep the kitchen open for the officers who were processing the crime scene. It was the least that he could do. He felt absolutely horrible for the O’Mara’s.
***
DiNolfo arrived on the scene at twenty of seven with a look of deep concern on her face. She lifted the crime scene tape and quickly ducked underneath. She made a beeline over to Adam who was taking photographs of the crime scene. He began to fill her in on what he had discovered so far.
“The victim is Courtney O’Mara, age twenty. I’m trying to bag as much evidence as I can before the rain destroys it,” Adam began as a frustrated sigh escaped his mouth.
Stolen Innocents (The Shadow Series Book 2) Page 10
