“We did, but they weren’t inside when we checked,” Liam explained.
DiNolfo scratched her head in confusion and began to walk to the opposite side of the hut when Adam grabbed her arm quickly, effectively immobilizing her. “Whoa! Watch where you step!” he yelled.
Perplexed, DiNolfo took out her flashlight and shone it down to the ground to reveal a vicious looking bear trap sitting directly at her feet.
“It has a safety on, but still, that’ll tear your flesh right off your bone,” explained Liam.
“Did you guys lay these?” asked DiNolfo, still in shock.
“No way. Dad likes the wildlife around here. When we go hunting we go up north. My best guess is that whoever was using the fishing hut must’ve laid them to keep the animals - or people - away.”
The gears in her head were grinding a mile a minute. Adam watched as she appeared to be piecing something very important together in her head. She remembered where she had saw bear traps laid before. The Finkle residence over in Gabbard’s Bend. The home where Bernard Kendricks and his mother used to live.
“Follow me up to the house. I need to check on something,” requested DiNolfo as she darted for her car.
*
“Where the hell are Liam and Adam?!” complained Tommy as he drove the truck down the mountain towards the nearest pay phone.
“They were supposed to be in the woods keeping an eye out for Psycho,” answered Shane.
“I’m sure they are okay. They were using a couple of Dad’s tree stands to stay out of sight, and Adam had a couple of rifles with him. They’ll be back in the morning,” explained Blake.
*
“Get back, I said!” warned Tristan, as Kendricks stood perfectly still, not advancing but not backing off either.
“Catherine, if you were going to fire that gun, you would have done so already. Now give it to me before you hurt yourself,” said Kendricks condescendingly. As he started to move forward, Tristan’s rage boiled over.
“My name is not Catherine!”
Tristan squeezed the trigger as hard as she could, but nothing happened. He was coming closer now, slowly, and cautiously. She squeezed again, and again, and again. Still, the gun did not provide the results that Tristan so desperately desired. Kendricks began laughing, sickly, maniacally, as he tried to close the gap between himself and Tristan again. She should have known. Uncle Frank was meticulous about gun safety. He had taken the bullets out before storing it in the cabinet.
She prepared to fight. Growing up with four brothers, she knew she could take him on, as long as her strength held up. His voice was no longer gentle, but dangerous. His fury was rising and she didn’t know how much longer she could keep him at bay.
“You have no one to protect you now. You have no choice but to come with me.” He was just inches from her now, feet slowly creeping across the floor, slithering like a snake. Before he would have the chance to touch her, she would attack. She would kill him with her own hands if she had to. She would do exactly what her father had showed her many years ago. Knee to the groin, fingers through the eye socket, and a battery of rib hits, then when he was done, a swift kick to the skull.
He was reaching for her now, eyes pleading, his hand extended, but still she showed no sign of fear. Just as she thought Kendricks was preparing to charge, he became distracted. Jarred by a loud bang behind him. The front door. Someone was trying to get in. Tristan was furious with herself for locking the front door. Kendricks smiling slyly slid the deadbolt across the door.
“We have company,” he said to Tristan with a smile, as if he truly expected her to smile back. The bang of a gunshot went off, followed by a metallic clank hitting the deck floor outside and the groan of the oak door slowly opened, revealing Jack Morrow standing on the porch with his pistol aimed at the back of Bernard Kendricks’ head. The gun felt hard against his skull, but somehow a serene calm took over him; a normal reaction would have been to feel fear rise from within. Instead, Bernard Kendricks was excited. He had goose bumps at the complex and dramatic situation that was unfolding before him.
Kendricks smiled at Tristan, as he sauntered away from the gun still staring Tristan’s way. “Let me guess…” Kendricks began, as he exuded charisma with his every word and every move. “It couldn’t be Corporal Jenna DiNolfo from Pittsburgh, could it? Or is it Sergeant now?” But as he turned around, the smug smile was wiped from his face. He was not in the presence of the person he was expecting. Not by a long shot. Kendricks turned around to Jack Morrow’s wrathful face, a murderous expression written all over his features. His body quaked with rage. It took every ounce of strength in his body to maintain his cool long enough to cock his pistol and aim it at Kendricks’ forehead.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“But you’re dead…”
“No, but you are.”
A single click emitted from the gun.