Today's Promises (Promises #2)(15)

Midnight plumbers are vandals who raid abandoned buildings for copper pipes and scrap metal to sell.

“I’m not surprised,” I reply. “I’m sure there are plenty of pipes and stuff to rip off in that house.”

Bad things happened there, but it was a nice house, aesthetically speaking.

Flynn nods. “Yeah, there’s probably a lot of stuff of value in there. Or at least, there was. Anyway, after I checked out the house, I took a walk down to the work barn.”

Mrs. Lowry ran a lucrative crafting business, built on the backs of the kids she fostered—like us—and funded on what we later discovered were embezzled funds. Flynn, Mandy, the twins, and me—we all spent long, arduous days working in that barn, which was really a kind of child-labor sweat shop.

“What was it like in the barn?” I whisper.

“Shit was destroyed,” Flynn says. “Just like over in the house.”

Smiling, I say, “Well, that’s kind of poetic justice, now isn’t it?”

Nodding, Flynn wets his fingers and presses together the tip of his cigarette. The cherry-red tip—though barely burning—hisses in protest. Setting the spent butt on the sill, he closes the window.

“It really is poetic justice,” he agrees. “The barn, the house… Those places deserve to be destroyed, especially after all the shit that went down in them.” His eyes meet mine, and he lowers his voice. “There was a table that was still standing upright in the work barn, one of those bench-style ones, where we used to sit for hours and hours, making those f*cking crafts. Remember?”

“I’ll never forget anything about that place, Flynn.”

“Yeah, right, of course.” He makes a face. “Anyway, I pushed that f*cking table over till it was upside down, like a dead bug. Then I rolled it, like, five f*cking times. I kicked it too. I just kept kicking it, Jaynie, over and over.” He blows out a breath. “I hate to admit it, but knocking the shit out of that thing felt really good.”

“I’m sure it did.” I release a constrained breath of my own. “I kind of wish I’d been there to kick it a few times myself.”

It’s true. Though I don’t care to return, the idea of f*cking shit up in that place feels good.

“It was cathartic, no doubt,” Flynn confirms.

“So what happened then? What made you so stressed out?”

Flynn stares over at the cigarette butt on the windowsill, eyeing it like he’s wishing he had more.

Waving my hand toward the closet where he retrieved the first damn butt from his jacket, I say, “If you’ve got more, go get them. I’m sure a single night of smoking won’t hook you back on the habit.”

At that assertion, Flynn laughs.

“Yeah, actually it probably would hook me back. But it’s okay. I don’t have any more anyway. I bummed that one I had from Crick, right before we went our separate ways. I knew better than to buy a whole pack. That’s why I went with the gum.”

I’m relieved, but mostly I’m dying to know what has Flynn smoking again in the first place.

In a low voice, I ask, “What else happened up at there today?”

Sheepishly, eyes down, he says, “Uh, the cops showed up.”





Flynn



“Oh shit, no way! You’re kidding me, right?” Jaynie’s face pales.

“Yeah, no… I mean…” I let out a groan and rub my hand down my face. “Yes, the cops showed up,” I admit.

Jaynie is aghast.

“But, but, you were trespassing, Flynn. Are you in trouble now?” She pauses, surely considering all the possibilities, except the one she’ll never guess. “Shit, please tell me you weren’t arrested or fined?”

I let out a snort. “I’m here with you right now, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, I guess. But maybe they took you in and released you. Maybe that’s why you were so late.”

“No, that was all the bus. And we may as well get used to that schedule, because that’s the way it runs.”

I’m stalling, and Jaynie knows it.

Eyeing me warily, she says, “Flynn, I don’t care about the bus schedule. Damn it, what happened with the cops? Obviously something went down or you wouldn’t have wanted a cigarette.”

Chuckling at her fieriness, I assure her, “Nothing happened. At least, not in the way you’re thinking. No arrests were made, no citations given. It wasn’t like that at all.”

Jaynie makes a grumpy face, stumped. “Then what was it like, Flynn? You, Crick, and the cops all go grab a coffee together or something?”

I better fess up. When Jaynie starts resorting to sarcasm, she’s pissed.

And so I begin…

“Well, first off, there was only one cop in the car. And as it turns out, he’s a detective.”

“A detective…? Oh, ohhh…” Things begin to click for Jaynie, and she says, “He’s investigating that missing girl case, right? The one Mandy told us about.”

“He is,” I confirm.

She gestures over to the nightstand. “Is that what you were trying to hide? That was his business card, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. His name is Detective Silver.” I release a pent-up breath. It feels good to come clean. “Anyway, when he found out who I am, and, more importantly, my recent connection to our kind and caring Lowry friends”—I let out a sarcastic cough, and Jaynie grimaces—“he couldn’t have cared less about me trespassing up there. Instead of the citation I was sure was coming, he gave me his business card.”