Shadow Dancer (The Shadow Series Book 1) (34 page)

“PS 132 is my alma mater,” explained DiNolfo, feigning embarrassment.

Jack, looking sheepish tried to cover up his previous statement, “I’m sure it was much nicer when you went there,” he said quickly. DiNolfo shook her head and laughed.

“There is one more matter of business that I have not revealed to anyone yet. There is a reason why he was expecting me.”

Jack looking confused but intrigued, perked up. “Why is that?”

“This is not the first time I have had to deal with Bernard Kendricks’ work.”

Jack did a double take. “Wait… what are you talking about?”

“I had a detective in Sunbury run the plates on the car that he took Tristan in. It had Ohio plates, and belonged to an Ernest Finkle. I
immediately recognized Finkle’s name from another case. Not from here. In Pittsburgh.”

“Ernie was Kendricks’ step father. He hated him.”

“Hated him enough to kill him. Six months ago, we got a call reporting a disturbance at an apartment in Pittsburgh. He found Ernest Finkle, his girlfriend Patrice Daly, and Allison Finkle, Kendricks’ step-sister, all strangled. That case was brutal. It was the reason I left Pittsburgh. We could never pin it on Kendricks, but he was our major suspect. He murdered them all, just two days after his mother’s death. It must have set him off.”

“Ernie used to beat his mother and him when he was a kid. He hated his guts.”

“This just goes to show how dangerous he truly was.”

“So he wasn’t bluffing when he said he’d kill everyone?” asked Tristan, a grave look on her tired face. DiNolfo, looking sadly into the girl’s face, shook her head no.

* * *

Joe Piedmonte brought a tray of food to table two, where his son Cole and his friends Tommy, Blake and Shane were gathered in hushed conversation, nervous looks present on their faces. For the first time since his wife had passed away, Joe Piedmonte closed the doors to Monte’s early. He sat there with the boys, making sure they were okay, while he kept the doors locked and the shades drawn.

“Try to relax boys. Everything is going to fine.”

He tried to console them, but it did him no good. “We should have never left them,” Cole said.

“We didn’t know that she was in there alone,” said Tommy.

“We should have checked,” insisted Blake.

Joe shook his head. “No, you boys did exactly what you were supposed to. You came here to safety. We called the authorities. Let them handle it.”

“When can we go back?”

“I think it is best if you stay at my house tonight, then when Jack and Tristan and everyone are back from the hospital, I will take you home,” Joe suggested reasonably.

* * *

“I don’t need to go back to the hospital!” Jack protested as the paramedics checked out his leg and helped him onto a gurney.

“We understand why you left the hospital, but now we have to take you back to check on that leg, and check on those stitches,” said one of the medics.

“I feel fine. Please, I’m begging you. Do not take me back to St. Benedict’s!”

“We’re going to Grier Mountain. It’s just precautionary to make sure you didn’t aggravate your injuries.”

Jack rolled his eyes as they loaded him and Tristan into the ambulance, both of them thoroughly annoyed but decidedly okay.

Chapter Nineteen

Return to Steeplechase

Elkhart, PA

October 23, 1997

As Tristan stepped out of her brother's sedan, she felt as if she were walking into a dream. Walking back onto the campus of Steeplechase, and through its halls, she felt as if the past three weeks were nothing more than a passing nightmare. Everything seemed so normal. The level of activity reached a fever pitch as students discussed their winter formal event and their upcoming Halloween plans. Mrs. Collins, the school nurse, was in the school yard handing out permission slips to students for the flu shot. Mr. Davies, the head of the Student Affairs Council of Steeplechase was still hell-bent on chasing the groups of smokers away from the ancient elm tree on the far side of the parking lot. Although Tristan's world had temporarily fallen to pieces, the rest of the world had not. There were, however, a few noticeable differences. The parking space where Bernard Kendricks used to park his polished sports car was now empty, with his name removed with the broad white swipe of a paint brush. In neat black letters, the word vacant now stood where his name used to be.

Ready to get back to her life, Tristan was eager to get back into
the classroom. She heard that the substitute English teacher was a very nice lady named Mrs. Mitchell, and that she was a welcome escape from the high standards of Mr. Kendricks. Tristan couldn't help but wonder about the project she failed to hand in. Tommy and Blake reminded her on more than one occasion that she was missing, and she couldn't be failed for not completing assignments during that time. Still, she worried that her grade point average would be wrecked somehow, as a triumphant farewell gift from Kendricks. Tristan wondered if the entire school knew the reason behind Kendricks’ departure, or the story of what happened at her family’s land in the past few weeks. While she wanted her mother's name to be cleared up, she didn't exactly want people knowing all of her family's business. She had earned her right to privacy. Breaking free of her inner dialogue, she noticed that Cole was looking at her quite intently.

As she looked up at him, a smile grew on his face "Are you okay?"

"It just feels weird to be back."

"I bet. Listen, you don't have to feel weird... we have your back." This provoked a smile and a small
chuckle from Tristan. "I just want to get back to normal."

Cole took her hand as they walked towards the school together, "It doesn't get much more normal than this."

Liam called to Tristan from the driver side of his sedan. She turned to face him.

"Call me if you need anything, I'll come and get you," Liam said with
a worried look on his face. Tristan smiled at him, it was never like him to worry. He was the most laid-back of all the brothers, but after the circumstances of the past three weeks, she could definitely understand why he would be more on edge lately. "Thanks Lee, I'm okay. Well… I'll
be
okay. See you at 3:00." Liam, taking the hint, waved at his sister before driving off.

Moving through the halls of Steeplechase, Tristan felt her heart begin to race as they approached room 219. Cole glided through the entrance, but Tristan halted, stopped dead in her tracks. She stared at the door frame, damaged from when Jack had kicked it down. Plywood was now secured to the door where the window had once been. She shuddered just looking at it, as the memories flooded her mind. Prior to coming to school that day she kept telling herself that there was no way classes would be held in the same room; alas, she was wrong. The investigation was over, and classes had resumed. Adam and Liam would be coming up this weekend to fix the door for their father.

Running up the hallway, Tommy and Blake were late for class, as usual. Shane, trailing close behind, had white powder from his donut on his lips as he ran to keep up with his cousins. Blake noticed Tristan first. He put his hand on her shoulder causing her to jump, shocked out of her momentary mental prison.

"It will be fine. Mrs. Mitchell is cool."

Still in shock, Tristan tried to erase the stressed look upon her face. With a deep breath she entered the classroom. Cole, with a worried look on his face, watched as she took her seat; he then shot a sideways glance at Tommy, who made a motion with his right thumb over his shoulder, non-verbally telling his pal that he would tell him later.

The first period bell sounded as Mrs. Mitchell walked through the classroom entryway. Dressed smartly in khakis, a red blouse, and a vintage jean jacket, Tristan was surprised by the substitute teacher's appearance. Steeplechase was known for hiring educators who maintained a highly professional appearance. Mrs. Mitchell was a breath of fresh air, completely natural and unpretentious. She entered the class with a smile and
looked over her students to see who was present. She paused briefly at the sight of Tristan, then continued across the class as if she hadn't missed a beat.

"Mornin', class!"

The class responded to her cheerful salutation with a somewhat sleepy response, "Good Morning, Mrs. Mitchell." Fully expecting Mrs. Mitchell to make a scene and introduce herself, Tristan braced herself for questions. But it never happened. Mrs. Mitchell treated her like any of the other students who had been in her class over the last few weeks, something for which Tristan was highly grateful.

"I understand that the class was given an assignment by the previous teacher, and that presentations were supposed to start today. I am going to give a week deadline, so that everyone can polish theirs to perfection. Presentations will start tomorrow for those who are ready," Mrs. Mitchell promised the class. "Also,” she went on, “I am hearing that you all were assigned specific family members and that some of you had an issue with the person you were designated." Mrs. Mitchell walked around the room at a casual pace as she spoke, non-threatening, unintimidating. "Please. I want you to be comfortable with the assignments you are given in this class. If you would rather do it on another family member or guardian, by all means, do so. The idea of this assignment is not to make you uncomfortable but to teach you how to unearth details and prepare them in a clear and concise manner."

Tristan looked surprised as the teacher spoke to the class. She was not used to this type of teaching at all, and she was thrilled beyond belief to be in Mrs. Mitchell's class. She no longer had to worry about this assignment. She could easily write it on anyone she would like within her family. Who would she choose? There were so many
choices. Tristan decided that she would have to give it some more thought. Mrs. Mitchell continued.

"I want my students to be comfortable in this class. This is not a place where you should have discomfort or anxiety. If something bothers you, please tell me, and I will try to work around it. I am here to help you, but be prepared to work. I might not be by the book, but I am responsible for molding
thirty minds this year, and by Jove! Your minds will be molded!" Mrs. Mitchell spoke with passion, excitement, and with more vigor than any of the students had ever heard before.

When the 3:00 bell rang, Liam and Adam were waiting outside on the school steps for their younger siblings and cousin. The typical victorious eruption of students flooded the steps, threatening to barrel them over. Lesser men would have been trampled. Shane was the first among them, kicking the door open as if it was the last day of term. Behind him, crowds of students followed excitedly, thrilled to be out of school. After the high-energy sea of charcoal gray and scarlet uniforms began to disperse, a more sedated group of students began to make its way out the door. Tommy, Cole, Blake, and Tristan emerged, as Adam moved towards Tristan.

"Anybody bother you today?"

Tristan grinned. "Just Mandell, but Tommy got him."

Liam patted his younger brother hard on the back, showing his approval.

"All right. Let's get home. Aunt Bridgette is cooking dinner,” said Adam with a smirk.

“Yay! Pizza!” said Shane.

* * *

As the Morrows tried to return to some normalcy, Sergeant DiNolfo was up to her eyeballs in paperwork. She finally got to do a thorough read-through of the case files. She now sees what Earl and Amos were so concerned about. They had their hands in just about every cash register in town, including Trafford’s and Harrow’s General Store. Amos and Earl’s police testimony back in ’81 had completely differed from the evidence documented in the file. It appeared that they did try to build a case honestly, and upon questioning Amos and Earl, they claimed that they were close to pinning it on Kendricks when he offered them hush money. Then when they couldn’t blame Catherine’s death on Jack, they froze the case collecting their monthly one-thousand dollars from Bernard Kendricks. Then the rumors started in town that Jack was really the killer, which was obviously far from the truth. The case file would be six inches thick by the time she sorted out their mess and added her own reports. DiNolfo put Rutledge and Conway as leads in obtaining the warrant and performing the search for Kendricks’ apartment and classroom; however, they didn’t find much information. The date book on his desk only included student assignment information, and his apartment was unremarkable other than the wall of photographs. There was still the matter of questioning Benson, and she needed to contact the Pittsburgh Police Department and let them know what she found out. She definitely had her work cut out for her, and with two deputies short, everyone else would have to pull their own weight while she got this figured out.