Shadow Dancer (The Shadow Series Book 1) (32 page)

* * *

“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.