Stolen Innocents (The Shadow Series Book 2) (19 page)

“Who do you think did it?” asked Cole knowing damn well what two names would fly out of his best friend’s mouth.

Tommy’s eyes went dark.

“That slimy bastard Hunter McCord and the rodent that is Jesse Trafford.”

Jack shook his head at Tommy.

“It probably wasn’t Trafford. Joe and I were in Shooter’s Pool Hall last night when he got taken out in cuffs. DiNolfo arrested him herself after he was spoutin’ off terroristic threats to one of the bikers in the pool hall. He wasn’t such a fan of you either. He dropped your name a few times. He was like a caged animal. I don’t know who pissed him off, but I never saw him look that out of control. I guess it all depends on what time he got released this morning.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to mention that it was him who pissed off Trafford, because then he’d have to explain why he had confronted him in the first place. Jack was breathing down Tristan’s neck enough as it is.

“One of those two greasy rats had something to do with this...” insisted Tommy.

“Maybe he put someone up to it, then,” suggested Cole as he caught a glare from Jack. “After all, he was bothering Courtney at her house last week.”

“It definitely wasn’t McCord. Liam and Adam took him out of the party last night in cuffs. Cole got you out of there just in time,” Jack warned with a nervous glare.

“Like Cole said… Maybe it was one of them and they are working with someone,” said Tommy.

“Or maybe it was none of them. An outsider that nobody expects,” thought Tristan.

“Or maybe we should leave the investigating up to the professionals,” suggested Jack. Jack’s comment caused Frank to do a double-take.

“Now there’s a change of tune that I never thought I’d hear! Jack Morrow cooperating with the local police,” Frank quipped loudly with a tone of surprise.

Jack couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, yeah… Considering the police squad isn’t comprised of a bunch of corrupt weasels anymore. I’m more than happy to let them do their job.”

Frank eyed Tommy, “Are we in agreement that with the exception of school, that you are to stay put until this is all squared away?”

Though Tommy wanted to hit the streets and pound in the face of whoever was responsible, he had heeded Tristan’s words very carefully.

“I’m not going anywhere. Especially since you’re holding my ride hostage.”

“Better believe it,” added Frank with a serious tone of voice.

“With that being said,” Jack mentioned cryptically as he stared at Tristan. Tristan’s stomach dropped. “I want you to stay put, too.”

“This is not about me, Dad.”

“An innocent young woman was murdered outside of your work. I want you here.”

“I have school and I have work… I’m saving up for a car.”

“Well then, you are going to be escorted to and from.”

Tristan rolled her eyes.

“When are you going to realize that I am more than capable of handling myself?”

“When I’m dead.”

Part Two

A Thickening Plot

Footsteps approaching,

A hallow heart soaring.

I wasn't alone,

As the day was dawning.

Cool breath on my neck,

Your veil was falling.

The sunlight revealed,

Your nightly calling.

You presented yourself,

In a glow of white.

What horror struck me,

For such a heavenly sight.

Your eyes took me in,

Wild and bright.

And as you reached for my soul,

I screamed with all my might.

~Excerpt from Phantom Flight by Addison Kline

Chapter              12

June 18, 2000

Trafford’s Auto Body

Elkhart, PA

3 P.M.

“Where have you been, boy?!” yelled Harry Trafford at his youngest son Jesse, who had just walked through the front door of Trafford’s Auto Body.

Jesse was soaked to the bone from the rain. Jesse ignored his father’s question that was overloaded with innuendo. He brushed by his father bumping hard into Harry’s burgeoning stomach. This only caused Old Man Trafford’s mood to worsen. Before Jesse could get away from his father’s wrath, Harry gripped Jesse by his hair. Jesse screamed as he felt Harry’s dirty, long fingernails dig into his scalp. Pieces of hair ripped from Jesse’s scalp as Harry yanked his son just a mere inch from his face.

“You better not have had anything to do with the murder of that girl!” Harry yelled as his putrid breath reached Jesse’s nose. Jesse scrunched up his face in protest.

“Damn! Your halitosis is enough to kill me,” said Jesse ignorantly.

This only caused Harry’s temper to flare. Harry gripped Jesse’s hair even tighter as he came nose to nose with his son.

In a threatening voice Harry grilled Jesse, “Piece of shit. If I find out that you had anything to do with this, the cops will be the least of your worries! Trust that! What would your mother think?!”

“What girl?! I don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about! And don’t even bring Mom into this! What would she think about you doing time for theft and leaving me with Mick and Jerry?!”

Suddenly, the bell over the front door rang as Sergeant Jenna DiNolfo walked through the front door with an impatient scowl on her face.

“Afternoon, Trafford. I need to have a word with your boy,” Jenna said pointing in Jesse’s direction.

Harry quickly loosened his grip on Jesse’s hair as blond wisps of hair fell to the floor. Jesse rubbed his red scalp where his hair once was.

“Me? Why you gotta talk to me?”

“I’m going to need you to come back down to the station and answer some questions I have.”

Jesse stared at DiNolfo with deer in headlight eyes. Jenna knew what would happen next.

“I suggest you don’t run away. If you make me chase you, it’s just going to make things a whole lot worse for you. I know you can’t stand me when I’m pissed off…” Jenna reminded with a hard edge to her voice as she recalled how Jesse had called her a “bulldozin’ bitch” when she had to tackle Jesse in the back of Shooter’s Pool Hall last night.

Jesse contemplated DiNolfo’s warning, but as usual, he threw caution to the wind. He barreled out the back door of Trafford’s Auto Body, ran across the dirt yard, climbed up the wet chain link fence and landed hard on the other side as he fell into a puddle of mud. A figure stood over Jesse and shook his head.

“You’ll never learn, will you?!” yelled Adam Morrow as he lifted Trafford to his feet.

“We just want to ask you some questions, but when you run, that makes you look awful suspicious.”

“Questions… Questions about what?!” Jesse asked in an agitated voice.

“About the murder of Courtney O’Mara. Now let’s go,” said Adam as he pushed Jesse into the back of his patrol car.

***

Police Officer Liam Morrow walked into Quiver’s Ammunition and Hunting Shop with a manila envelope in his hand. His boots tread loudly over the linoleum floor alerting Ethan Quiver that someone had come into the store. Ethan turned around on his stool, casting a wary look towards the officer. He knew they’d be showing up eventually.

“Ethan… Is your old man in? I have a couple questions for him,” asked Liam cordially.

Ethan breathed a small sigh of relief. Liam took note and lifted his left eyebrow.

“He’s actually on leave from the store. He had to get surgery on his back. Is there anything I could help you with?” Ethan reluctantly offered.

“Yeah. First I want to ask where you were this morning between the hours of 5 A.M. to 7 A.M.?”

“I was at my other job.”

“What other job?”

“I work at the bottling factory at night.”

“Can anyone vouch for your where abouts?”

“Sure. The overnight supervisor.”

“Can I have his information?”

“It’s a her… Donna Giampetro.”

Ethan wrote down the overnight supervisor’s phone number and passed it to Liam. Liam was verifying the whereabouts of all the men in Elkhart. They had to be sure they weren’t missing anything. Liam eyed him
speculatively;
unsure of whether or not he could rely on Ethan’s assistance. He hadn’t been the most reliable source of
information in the past.  Since Ed was out on medical leave, it appeared he didn’t have much choice in the matter.

“Is there something else I can help you with?” asked Ethan with a puzzled expression.

“Alright, maybe you can help me with something else then,” said Liam as he opened the envelope. He pulled a Polaroid photograph out of the envelope and passed it to Ethan. Ethan could tell that it was the print of some sort of hiking boot that was captured in the mud.

“I need to know if you can identify this print. It appears to be a hiking boot. I need to know if you sell something here that would make this print.”

“Hard to say right off the bat, but there is an easy way to tell,” said Ethan as he hopped down from his stool. 

Liam followed Ethan to the far wall where all of Quiver’s boots were displayed. Ethan began picking up each boot and comparing its sole to the photograph. After about thirteen pairs of boots, Ethan had finally come up with a match.

“This is the Expedition style 2032 hiking boot. It’s an exact match.”

“Any idea who might have purchased this shoe?”

“Not offhand because it’s not a very popular style this time of year,” explained Ethan.

“How do you know they bought it recently?”

“The track… The design is not worn down at all.”              

“Can you check your records? It’s a size eleven,” Liam pressed becoming impatient with the shop clerk.

“Yeah, I can do that… Hold on.”

Ethan went to the back of the store and returned with a binder that contained a book of barcodes.

“Hmm… Let me see… This is the Expedition style 2032…” mumbled Ethan as he referenced a page in his binder. He typed in a series of numbers into his register, as Liam waited patiently.

“Only three people purchased this particular boot in the last three months. It’s really only popular during hunting season…” Ethan explained.

“I need those names, Ethan…” Liam pressed as he glanced impatiently as his watch.

Ethan scrawled the names of the three customers on a white notepad. As Ethan passed the paper to Liam, he mentioned, “Hey, your kid brother bought a pair, too.”

Liam controlled his face as he took the paper. Ethan had scrawled messily on the paper:

Hunter McCord

Thomas J. Morrow

Jesse H. Trafford

Liam took the paper and stormed out of the store with the envelope in his hand as his temper threatened to get the best of him.