Today's Promises (Promises #2)(19)

“Sounds good to me,” I say.

“Yeah, fine,” Flynn echoes.

But when we slip into the back of the detective’s car, Flynn hesitates midway across the seat and I end up smooshed up against his side. I have a perfect view of what’s delayed him when he carefully lifts a docket of files and two vials of what looks to be blood up from the seat.

When he starts to move the items from the seat to the floor, Detective Silver stops him. “Oh, hey,” he says, grabbing the stuff. “I’ll take care of that.”

The detective then opens the driver’s door and slides the file and the vials of blood over to the empty seat next to him.

“Are those the files on Debbie Canfield?” Flynn asks.

“Yes,” Detective Silver replies as he puts on his seat belt.

“And those vials…” Flynn’s eyes meet the detective’s in the rearview mirror. “Is that the missing girl’s blood?”

The detective nods. “Yes, it is. We were lucky to secure two blood samples from Debbie Canfield’s time under state’s care. Those were never disposed of, and that’s very fortunate for us. We’re going to need her blood for a DNA match. That is, if we ever come across any evidence up on the Lowry property.”

The blood from the missing girl makes this endeavor feel so real. I shudder and Flynn takes my hand. “You sure you’re up for doing this?” he asks softly, so the detective can’t hear. “We can still tell him no. You could always wait here in town while I ride up with him. We could meet up after we’re done.”

I’m immediately relieved at the prospect of an out, but the truth remains that I need to face my fears. Burying the past hasn’t been working. Though not as frequent as in the beginning, my nightmares continue. And I can’t stop hoarding food, not completely. Things have improved this week, yes, mainly because I’m facing this crap head-on. So, really, why would I give up now? Bottom line, I can’t back out.

“No,” I tell Flynn. “I’m coming along. I need to do this with you.”

I don’t add that if we get through today, there’s something else I’d like to do. I’m hoping I’ll find the courage to talk about my experiences with Allison, and ultimately help Detective Silver build an assault case against her.

Because if there’s one thing I have no doubt of, it’s that that bitch needs to stay behind bars.





Flynn



Finding my sorry ass back on the Lowry property is no easier than it was the first go-round. However, it’s not me I’m worried about on this day. It’s Jaynie who concerns me. She had it a whole lot worse than any of us during her time here, especially towards the end.

That’s why I feel the need to keep checking to make sure she’s all right.

“Do you want to turn around?” I ask as we walk with Detective Silver to the brick colonial house we once called home. I’ve been noticing her glancing longingly back at the car, so this seems like a good time to ask if she still wants to do this. “Jaynie, we can leave. Right now, if that’s what you want.”

“No.” She squeezes my hand. “I’m still good.”

I wonder though, as her hand has remained locked with mine since the car ride up. Her skin usually feels cool, and her grasp is light and easy. But not today. Today she’s sweating bullets and holding on to me for dear life.

When we reach the house, Detective Silver declares, “I’d like for us to begin the walk-through inside.”

“I really think the old barn would be a better place to start,” I counter.

“We’ll get there, Flynn,” Detective Silver assures me. “But first I’d like to hit these buildings one by one.”

“Okay,” I say as I watch Jaynie nod her assent.

On our way up to the porch that’s attached to the front of the house, we’re careful to watch our step. The walkway is crumbling and it’d be easy to trip. Wow, everything looks so different. Even the flowers that once lined the sides of the stone path are long gone. The porch, as we begin to climb the steps, has so many gaping holes marking the floorboards that we have to step around them in a zig-zag pattern.

“This place is a mess,” Jaynie murmurs when we reach the door. The front door that is, as the screen door, ripped from its hinges, is lying off to the side.

“Yes, conditions up here are bad,” Detective Silver says. “Be sure to tread lightly and watch that you don’t step on any sharp objects once we’re in the house.”

In the house, when Jaynie gasps upon viewing the appearance, I lean in and whisper, “I told you the place looked like it’d been hit by a tornado.”

And it has. The furniture that wasn’t outright stolen has been knocked all over, busted into pieces in most cases. Whole sections of the hardwood floors have been ripped up, and there are holes punched into the walls. Frayed wires and busted pipes jut out, appearing almost lewd with their obscene angles.

“Ugh, this is gross. Looks like some partiers really went to town in here,” Jaynie remarks as she steps over a pile of empty beer cans and used condoms.

Detective Silver, getting down to the business of why we’re here, asks if we happen to remember any hiding places in the house. “I’m hoping being back here may spur some memories,” he says, a statement that makes Jaynie wince. Stirred memories are the last thing my girl needs.