“Yes. In my study.”
DiNolfo followed Jack up the stairs and down the long hallway to his office. She watched as Jack walked to the wall behind his desk and took an old oil painting of Elias and Evangeline Morrow, the original owners of the property and Jack’s great-great-grandparents, off the wall, revealing a black safe built into the wall. He crouched closely to the safe, cautiously entering the code so the sergeant couldn’t see the numbers as the dial turned. It opened with a metallic bang. Jack extracted a manila file folder and placed a stack of letters in front of DiNolfo to review.
“This one,” Jack said, pointing to one of the letters on the desk, “was sent to her just a week before her death.” DiNolfo lifted the letter to get a better look. “In this letter, he writes as if they had plans to run away. Sergeant, my wife was nine months pregnant at that point! She was petrified of the man. He had stalked her relentlessly since high school. There is no way in hell she’d go anywhere with him.”
“What did the officers on the case say at the time? Did you mention any of this to them?”
“Every word of it. They said maybe Catherine was having an affair with Kendricks and I was in denial.”
“That doesn’t seem to be the case here,” observed DiNolfo. “Do you have any samples of your own handwriting?”
“Yes. Like I said, I don’t throw mail away.”
Jack rummaged through his desk. He pulled out a brown metal file box that was crammed full of letters, birthday cards, postcards from vacation spots, even old bills. He sifted through the box until he finally pulled out an old Valentine’s Day card that he had given to Catherine.
“Look,” Jack said, handing DiNolfo the card. “Here is my handwriting. It is completely different than the one in the letter.”
DiNolfo couldn’t disagree. The handwriting on the greeting card was very messy, almost indecipherable.
Jack handed DiNolfo another item.
“Now, here is a note that Kendricks sent home, saying that Tommy was giving him trouble with an assignment in class.”
Jack laid the lined paper in front of DiNolfo. The penmanship was very rich and elegantly curled with a distinct slant to the right, much more refined than Jack’s graceless scrawl. There was nothing similar about the two signatures. As DiNolfo scrutinized the signatures, Jack looked her dead in the face.
“You’ve got yourself a case here,” Jenna agreed. “Did the previous officers do nothing to thoroughly investigate?”
“Oh, they brought plenty of dirt up, but nothing that would implicate the actual criminal. I believe Amos Cope and Kendricks are friends. I had seen them together one night at Shooter’s, a pool hall in Elkhart. They were slamming back a couple of brewskies when they saw me walk in.”
“When was this?”
“During the investigation, about two weeks after my wife’s death.”
DiNolfo raised an eyebrow.
"Why was this case frozen if you have clear proof that this guy was stalking your wife? I would think they should have investigated him just as thoroughly,” she opined.
“He might have been listed as a suspect, but they didn’t drill him like they did me. I think he paid them off.”
"Jesus Christ, that’s some accusation!”
“It’s the truth,” insisted Jack.
“I have some research to do, but we are going to see if we can get this case laid to rest. First things first, I need to find Kendricks, and I need to track down Earl and Amos. They have some explaining to do," said DiNolfo with a bite. "Is there anyone who can confirm your statement?"
“Yeah… Frank, Bridgette… My parents.”
"Hey, Sarge, I think we found something!" DiNolfo and Jack's eyes met, looking alarmed. She followed the investigator down the hallway and into Tristan's room, closing the door behind her.
*
Bridgette Kilpatrick stared out the bay window of the guest house, overlooking the lake with a pensive look on her face. Biding the time while the investigators searched the house, she became more nervous with each passing hour. Bridgette knew that the longer Tristan was gone, the less likely it was that she would be found. DiNolfo had questioned her at great length and she had told her everything she knew. She told DiNolfo about the problems Tristan was having at school: the assignment and being asked to stay after class despite her high average. She told DiNolfo about the argument she had with her father the night before she disappeared. She even went so far as to tell her in no uncertain terms that there was no chance in hell that they were dealing with a runaway. Tristan was like a daughter to her and she just wanted her home.