Stolen Innocents (The Shadow Series Book 2) (8 page)

“What about Bernard? Is he still hanging around?” asked Angie inquisitively. 

Courtney and Misty-Lee glanced at each other with troubled looks on their faces. It was as if their shallow façade dropped completely, and all that was left were two scared little girls.

“Um… You didn’t hear?” asked Misty-Lee warily.

“Hear what?” asked Angie as a chill ran up her spine.

“Dude… He’s dead,” said Courtney bluntly.

Angie’s eyes went wide.

“Dead?! How?” Angie asked in astonishment as if the thought alone was purely preposterous.

“I can’t believe no one told you,” said Misty-Lee in amazement.

“Tell me what? What happened?”

“He was shot. Mr. Morrow shot him in the head.”

Angie took the thought and mulled it over in her head.

She was missing something.

“What’s the whole story?” asked Angie, desperate for the truth.

“Apparently Bernard kidnapped Mr. Morrow’s daughter. Tristan, her name is. Courtney goes out with her brother. The girl escaped back to her house, but Kendricks followed her there. Mr. Morrow caught him in his house and shot him dead. Turns out Bernard was also responsible for four other deaths, including Mrs. Morrow.”

Angie appeared to be stunned. She never thought that anyone would have the power to stop Bernard Kendricks. Angie knew the depths of his depravity. She knew it all too well. No wonder no one had told her after all that she had been through with Tiffany.
Poor Tiffany.
The thought that she had been in close proximity of Kendricks only heightened the fear that she had carried all these years. It could have been her. The thought shook Angie to the core of her soul.

“I’m shocked,” Angie admitted.

“Are you? We always knew that he was a nut job.”

“I, for one, am not surprised at all,” said Misty-Lee bluntly.

“You know what I think…” said Courtney.

Misty-Lee gave her a sharp look.

“Can we not discuss Tiffany right now?” asked Misty-Lee casting a wary glance at Angie.

“I’m just saying… I swear that he was the one responsible for Tiffany’s death. I’d bet my life on it.”

“Don’t say stuff like that… You were too young to remember any of this.” scolded Misty-Lee.

The topic of conversation caused Angie’s nerves to go on edge. She remembered vividly how her sister had died. It kept her awake at night; even still. She wouldn’t put it past someone like Kendricks to do something that vicious; especially if he was responsible for four other deaths.  As the car barreled down the highway, Angie felt the demons of her past breathing down her neck.

***

Gwen O’Mara sat at her Gateway computer browsing the sales on QVC’s website when she heard a car pull into the gravel driveway. 

“Roger! She’s here!” yelled Gwen out to the kitchen where Roger was reading the Wall Street Journal.

Gwen jumped up from her cushy computer chair which spun around on a plastic mat that protected the rug. She barged out the storm door to greet her daughter who she hadn’t seen in years. Her clog sandals scraped perilously across the gravel driveway. Then she saw her. Angela looked so much older than Gwen remembered, but she also looked much better than she expected. Break ups, job terminations and eviction do terrible things to people; especially when they all happen on the same day.

Angie dropped her suitcase in the driveway as she braced herself for her mother’s hug. Gwen ran to her and swept Angie into a hug. She was thrilled beyond belief to finally have her back home. Angie thought that Gwen was about to squeeze the life out of her when Roger appeared at the door. Roger, who was Angie’s father, smiled down at her and winked.

“Alright, Gwen. Give the girl some room to breathe,” said Roger with a laugh.

Angie gave her father an appreciative glance as she broke free of her mother’s embrace. Angie ran towards her father and gave him a big hug. Angie didn’t have a very close relationship with her mother, but Roger and Angie very much saw eye to eye. It didn’t matter how much time had passed. They would always have each other’s backs. As Angie walked into the O’Mara house for the first time in two decades, she felt the slow burn of anxiety begin to rise in her chest.

***

The O’Mara family gathered in the cramped kitchen of 27 Caribou Road for dinner. Gwen prepared spaghetti and meatballs and called everyone down to the dinner table. Courtney and Misty-Lee protested that they had other things to do, but were quieted when they met Roger’s stern glare. Ally, Angie’s youngest sister, stormed into the kitchen with a miserable scowl on her face.

“He won’t get out of my room!” yelled Ally as a chubby toddler chased behind her with a messy face.

“Cory! No!” yelled Roger as his face turned a shade of vibrant red.

Cory, who is Misty-Lee’s son, has a major case of the terrible two’s. Roger was beginning to wonder if it was really the child’s personality as opposed to just a phase. Cory chased behind Ally with a black magic marker, threatening to draw all over her brand new jeans.

“Misty! Can you control your son?!” yelled Roger across the dinner table.

With a huff, Misty got up from the table and picked up the precocious toddler. She took the magic marker from his hand as he screamed in protest. Without a word, Misty-Lee put him in his highchair as he kicked and slammed on the tray in anger.

“Cute kid,” Angie said to Roger facetiously. Roger shook his head in annoyance.

Suddenly, the front door swung open again and a teenage girl wearing at least five pounds of makeup and a too-short black dress walked into the living room cursing loudly into her cell phone.

Roger yelled, “Who let Trixie out of the house looking like that?!”

Roger was infuriated, and rightly-so, that his daughter Trixie continued to ignore his rules about wearing age-appropriate clothing.

“What, Rog? It’s the style,” insisted Gwen.

“What style?! She looks like a prostitute!”

Gwen turned around quickly and gave her husband a stern glare.

“Shush! You’ll hurt her feelings!”

“Good! No daughter of mine-“Roger started but was cut off by another of Cory’s temper tantrums.

I need a vacation away from my family
, thought Roger.

“So Angela,” said Gwen as she dished spaghetti out of a steaming pot onto a plate that sat in front of her. “Tell us what your plans are.”

Angie looked at her mother and sighed. She had no idea what her next move would be. While she would love nothing more than to loaf around and wallow in her misery for a while, she decided that it went against everything she stood for.

“I suppose I will be looking for work. I’ll start in the morning. I’ll check over in Danville and Sunbury. I’ll need a ride though.”

Roger nodded in approval.

“Smart girl. Keep busy and get right back up on the horse.”

“Take the station wagon. Nobody’s using it tomorrow,” suggested Gwen.

“Alright. I will.”

“And tomorrow night, we’re having Trixie’s graduation party here at the house.”

Angie shook her head in understanding.

“And everyone and their grandmother is coming,” mentioned Roger.

“Dad!” Trixie complained, “I only graduate high school once. Go big or go home. Right?”

“I am home,” said Roger gruffly as he casted a perturbed look towards Trixie.

“Oh, Rog… Lighten up,” begged Gwen as she plopped a spoonful of spaghetti on his plate.

***

After dinner, Roger and Gwen showed Angie up to her old bedroom. They climbed to the third floor that led to two empty bedrooms. Angie recognized them immediately. The first bedroom had a sign on the door that read, “Tiffany’s Room – Keep Out!” Angie eyed the door precariously as they continued to make their way down the hallway towards the other bedroom. Roger pushed open the door to the front bedroom. Angie’s name tag was still hanging from the door. As the old door creaked open, Angie was horrified to see that it still looked the same and relatively untouched. The only things that were missing from the room were the items Angie took with her when she left twenty years ago.

“We didn’t have the heart to touch it,” Roger explained.

“It was a very difficult time for us. We just left the third floor alone. No one comes up here,” lamented Gwen as a memory came to the forefront of her mind.

The third floor was a tomb. The memories of their two lost daughters; one who lay six feet under, and the other who fled cross-country. Angie’s stomach curled into tight knots just thinking about it. Another thought occurred to her. Not all haunted houses are the same. While Morrow Manor fits the bill, the modern O’Mara house had more secrets than the whole of Elkhart combined.

Angie laid her suitcase on the bright purple bed spread that had faded dramatically since she last saw it. She plopped down on the bed as the bedsprings groaned under the weight of her body. Roger closed the door. Of course they would want to talk to her. Gwen would want to lecture her for being gone for so long. Gwen sat on the bed next to Angie and grabbed her left hand. Angie could feel her dinner rising in her throat.

“So, I know that Courtney and Misty-Lee told you about your cousin,” said Gwen calmly, trying to broach the subject as painlessly as possible.

“They did,” replied Angie wearily. She did
not
want to discuss it. She was still trying to process the news, but knowing Gwen, she would push the issue.

“I want to make sure that you are okay. I know that you were close with him when you were younger.”

Angie laughed darkly, “I was petrified of him.”

“Yes, but you also seemed to be intrigued by him, too.”

“Mother, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Angie said with a bite. She had tried to block it all out.

“Gwen…” warned Roger from the doorway with a piercing glare.

“Just hold on, Roger…” snapped Gwen. She continued,

“The reason I bring him up is because when I was going through his estate, I found something that was addressed to you.”

Angie looked alarmed and surprised.

“To me?” she asked doubtfully.

“Yes. It is a cardboard box that is addressed directly to your address to Seattle. It was never shipped though. I wasn’t sure what was inside of it, so I didn’t want to send it myself. It is over there on the desk.”

Angie glanced over at her old desk. Sitting on top was a medium sized shipping box. Somehow, Angie thought she knew what was going to be inside of it. The thought alone sent her mind reeling.

“Thank you. I’ll open it later.”

Roger looked at his daughter with a speculative glance, as if he had something he wanted to say, but the moment passed and Roger held in whatever it was that he needed to say.

“We’ll let you get unpacked,” said Roger as he motioned for Gwen to follow him.

As Angie sat alone in her bedroom, the lure of the box became too much for her to bear. Slowly, she approached the box, like a predator sneaking up on its prey. Gently, she lifted the box as she stared at Bernard Kendricks’ neat scrawl on the shipping label. How did he know where she lived? The shipping label indicated that he had intended to ship the package to Angie on October 7, 1997.