Today's Promises (Promises #2)(22)

In the hayloft, there’s nothing to be found besides mountains of dust.

After a succession of sneezes, I clear my throat and ask, “Where to now?”

“Let’s go back down the ladder,” the detective says.

“Works for me,” Flynn replies, suppressing a sneeze of his own.

Back in the base of the barn, we look around one last time, hoping to find something we missed.

But when it’s clear there’s nothing more to search, Flynn says, “That’s it, I guess. There’s nothing left for us to do. There are no other areas to search. We covered everything in here.”

Sighing, I dejectedly add, “I don’t think there are any bodies buried in this barn.”

Rubbing the salt-and-pepper stubble on his chin, Detective Silver blows out a breath. “You may be right,” he says. “But then again…” He digs the toe of his shiny dress shoe into the dirt floor, creating a divot. “Maybe our victim is buried below where we’re standing.”

“Uh, we just canvassed the whole floor,” Flynn reminds him. “You said yourself there’s no indication anyone’s dug around in this old barn in years.”

“Yes, but the body could be buried much deeper. If the killer—”

“Allison, you mean,” I mutter.

“—took it upon him-or herself to rake the dirt every day, after a while any sign of a disturbance would have been whisked away.”

“Gross.” The detective sure has a colorful—and vivid—way of explaining things.

Flynn, obviously eager to see this case resolved for my sake, says, “Should we grab some shovels?”

Detective Silver thumps him on the back. “No, son, I think you and Jaynie have done enough for the day. Though it’s generous of you to offer, I believe this is a job best suited for our excavation crew. I was hoping we’d have more luck today, but all in all I think we did well. I appreciate you two coming in to town to help. The authorities can take it from here on out.”

Panicked that this is our last chance to keep Allison behind bars, and it’s slipping from our grasp, I hastily inquire, “You’ll keep us updated on any and all progress, right?”

“Sure, sure, I can do that.” The detective shares a meaningful glance with me alone. “Of course, there’s always the option of you telling your own story, Jaynie. Especially if we don’t find anything after the excavation is complete.”

“Does that mean Allison is off the hook if you come up empty-handed?” I inquire.

“No body and no evidence equal no case, I’m afraid.” The detective peers at me, kindness in his blue eyes. “Think about making a statement, okay? Think of it as a backup plan, if nothing else.”

I know people, including this man, only want to see me receive the justice I deserve. But the thought of making an official statement and, worse yet, having to testify in court—telling my story to complete strangers—is something I prefer to avoid.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “Maybe.”

“Hey,” Flynn says, jumping to my defense. “Can she think about it for a while?”

“Yes, of course. Let’s see what comes from the excavation before any decisions have to be made.”

“Can’t you just excavate the whole place?” I ask. “Like, why not tear down the house, dig up all the fields, check everywhere for the body of that girl?”

“I wish we could.” Detective Silver’s tone is apologetic. “But without probable cause, there’s no way a judge will ever approve something as extreme as that. The cost factor alone is prohibitive. That’s why I needed you to come to the property today. Now, because of your assistance, I can justify a more thorough search. At least, one of this old barn. But beyond that…”

“We’re f*cked,” Flynn finishes for him.





Flynn



Days pass, and the next thing I know it’s been a whole week since our search of the barn.

Even so, Jaynie and I hear nothing from Detective Silver. There are no updates at all regarding the excavation. And that’s frustrating as hell.

Fed up with waiting, one afternoon when work lets out early, I decide to go up to the Lowry property and check on shit for myself. Since I don’t have a car, though, that involves giving Crick a call to ask him for a helping hand.

“Whatcha up to, kid?” my old friend inquires when I hit him up.

“Not much,” I reply. “How’s shit with you?”

We proceed to shoot the breeze for a minute or two, until I finally get around to asking, “Hey, any chance you have time to drive me up to the old Lowry property today?”

“You just can’t stay away from that place, can you, my friend?” Crick replies. I envision him shaking his head, perplexed by my fascination with a home that brought me so much misery.

“It’s not that,” I insist. “I just need to, uh, check on something.”

Crick agrees to help. The best part is he doesn’t ask questions; he just picks me up out at the jobsite and drives me up to the old Lowry homestead.

We actually don’t do much talking at all on the way there. We’re comfortable enough with one another to handle the silence. Plus, with all I’ve got on my mind, I’m good with keeping the chatter to a minimum.