DiNolfo gave her a nod of understanding, her face showing sympathy for the clearly worried aunt of the missing girl.
Bridgette cast a worried glance at the staircase; she could hear floorboards creaking from above. She was not at all happy with how the investigation was proceeding. Instead of wasting all this time asking a million questions, Bridgette thought they should be out there looking for her. She was desperate for Tristan to return home. Bridgette had not slept a wink last night. She went out into the night on horseback, along with Frank and Shane, searching the woods and the orchard by the light of a flood lamp. They called out her name at least a thousand times, but it was to no avail. She did not answer their call.
The investigators split up through the house, two going upstairs while one went to the kitchen.
“We are going to need to clear the house out so that we can properly investigate. I will be asking Jack to stick around for further questioning, but everyone else will need to go elsewhere for the time being,” explained DiNolfo.
Bridgette, taken aback, sighed, “Oh. I guess I can take the kids to the guest house. Frank is about to leave with Liam to ask around town to see if anyone has heard or seen anything.”
DiNolfo replied, “That is a smart idea. I know you are frustrated, but this is officially considered a missing person’s case now, and we have officers on the lookout. It is protocol.”
“Finally,” muttered Bridgette under her breath before walking upstairs to gather the children.
*
“Jack, I have a few more questions, if you don’t mind,” said DiNolfo, weariness visible on his face.
“Ask whatever you need to,” replied Jack.
“I was look through your wife’s case file last night and found some interesting information. You didn’t tell me that you were one of the primary suspects in your wife’s death, with the other being your children’s English teacher. What is that about?”
Jack looked surprised and replied, “I assumed you knew. It’s pretty common knowledge around these parts. It’s also common knowledge that the officers who handled the case are more corrupt than the crooks down at City Hall.”
DiNolfo raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Jack’s statement. “Who might they be, the officers who handled your wife’s investigation?”
“Earl Buckley and Amos Cope.” Jack had DiNolfo’s attention now.
“Elaborate,” said DiNolfo, eager to hear more. “Tell me what I need to know.”
“They treated me like I was guilty from the onset. When we couldn’t find Catherine, Earl and Amos came out to the house to take a look around. They said that there were no signs of forced entry, and suddenly I was their main target. They assumed it was suicide at first, but then when they noticed there were some things astray, they began asking questions in what seemed like an attempt to implicate me. One of their first questions was whether or not there was a life insurance policy. That should have triggered a red flag for me. And they did a piss-poor job searching the area. We found her ourselves! Because of those officers, I have a complete lack of trust in the Elkhart Police force. No offense to you,” Jack added quickly.
DiNolfo smiled. “None taken. Go on.”
Jack continued, “They began compiling what they believed was evidence, proof that I harbored some ill will against my wife. Nothing could be further from the truth. They insisted that my wife having her own room on the third floor meant our marriage was in trouble. They questioned the locks on all the doors, and tried to implicate me at the mention of the life insurance policy, even though it was her idea in the first place.”
“That did look awfully suspicious, Jack…” noted DiNolfo.
“Right, “Jack agreed, “but you see, I don’t throw away mail. I have the correspondence from the insurance company and it is addressed to Catherine directly. They couldn’t implicate me, because I was not the one who took out the insurance policy on her. Instead, they froze the funds until the case was resolved. We had another policy that was taken out years prior, which I am using for the children’s education. That account is nearly dry.”
DiNolfo nodded while as she scrawled something on her notepad.
“They were chasing after the wrong guy all along. Bernard Kendricks is the one you want,” Jack added.
“I recognize his name. Who is he?” asked Jenna.
“He was her friend in high school, but he also happens to be Tristan’s English teacher too. He was obsessed with Catherine and was furious when she refused to be his girlfriend. If anything, he should have been the primary suspect. He’s the one who sent threatening letters for years, showed up unannounced… there was even a restraining order! He’s the guilty party. Not me.”
“Do you have copies of these documents?”