Today's Promises (Promises #2)(37)

Flynn smiles up at me—in support, not jest. “Maybe you really should.”

Our futures are important, we both know that. Flynn makes decent money working construction, but I can’t work the counter at the sandwich shop forever. It simply doesn’t pay enough.

In that moment, I make another decision, one I hope may also help me cope. It’s something that just may keep me sane through all of this, by giving meaning to this endeavor, no matter what the outcome.

I place my hands on Flynn’s shoulders. “Hey, I was thinking—”

“That could be dangerous,” he interjects.

He’s joking around again, which is good. We need levity in this conversation. That’s what we do sometimes when topics become too heavy.

Still, I smack his upper arm. “Hey, I’m trying to be serious here. I just had one of those… Wait, what do you call it when something you couldn’t figure out before suddenly becomes clear?”

Flynn shrugs, his muscles flexing beneath my hands. “I’m not sure.”

“Oh, wait, I know.” I lift one hand and snap my fingers. “An epiphany, that’s what I had.”

“Okay. Go on…”

“I may have just now figured out a way to cope with everything before us—the missing girl case, dealing with the detective, going back to the Lowry property…yet again.” My eyes meet Flynn’s curious gaze as he tries to anticipate what I’m getting at. He needn’t bother since I flat-out tell him, “I plan from this point forward to view this investigation like it is my own. I don’t know about becoming a detective down the road—that might be a bit too much for me, criminals and all that—but I think I’d like a job that involves helping children. I could someday maybe help kids who are lost, like how we were…and how we still are, at times.”

“I’m liking this idea, Jaynie,” he says.

Encouraged, I add, “I’d like to go to college someday and earn a degree. Maybe then I could become, like, a special investigator for social services.”

Flynn touches my cheek. “I think you can do anything you put your mind to, sweetheart.”

The unwavering belief he has in me gives me more strength than I ever knew I even had.

“Dream big, babe,” he adds.

“Yes, dream big.”

I call on all my reserves and, with a newfound confidence I’ve not felt in a while, I declare, “It’s settled, then. We’ll go back to the Lowry property, and we’ll keep going back, until the day comes when this case is solved. We’re going to do this for Debbie Canfield and to right all the wrongs of the past. But, most importantly, we’re going to do this for our own future.”





Flynn



We don’t inform Detective Silver of our intentions. Before we take that step, we need to know if we have anything. And that means one more search on our own.

When Jaynie and I choose to return to the Lowry property, it’s at the end of a warm day in May. The drive over is quiet and uneventful. We drive with the windows down, and the radio on, almost as if life is completely normal.

Until we arrive, that is.

Then it hits me, and I feel the need to make jokes. I don’t know why. Maybe because I have an alternative plan if we don’t find evidence, one that could end up putting me—and maybe Jaynie, but not if I can help it—in danger.

“Here we are,” I sarcastically murmur as I’m rolling up the window and cutting the ignition. “Back again at our one-time prison.”

Jaynie shoots me an admonishing look. “That’s not funny, Flynn.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s too soon for bad one-liners.”

She just rolls her eyes at me.

Even though we’re parked in front of the gate, Jaynie and I stay as we are. We make no move to get out of the car. Attempts at bad jokes aside, I know we need a minute to fortify ourselves. Coming here is never fun. And this is actually very serious business. Jaynie’s probably thinking the same as I am—thank God we got out of here alive. Debbie Canfield, the poor girl, never had that chance.

And that’s why we need to do what we’re about to do.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

“Uh-huh,” Jaynie replies.

Still, we stay as we are.

I look around, not all that anxious to exit the car myself. The surrounding fencing is more ragged than ever, filled with more gaps, all unevenly cut and of varying sizes. All this new damage despite several recently erected ‘No Trespassing’ signs.

Releasing a pent-up breath, I again prompt Jaynie. “Now are you ready?”

“Yeah, I think.”

I need her to move first, so I know she’s okay.

“Well, good, let’s get out of the car and get started. We’re losing light.” It’s only early evening, but it’s not summer. The days aren’t all that long this time of year. “Babe?” I prompt when my commentary is met with silence.

Eyes glued to the driveway, or rather to the work barn and the house that are visible up in the distance—the leaves on the trees are mere buds still—she mumbles something indecipherable.

Hand going to her knee, I ask, “Hey, you sure you’re up for this?”

Despite Jaynie’s numerous declarations of how this is something she must do in order to move forward, I have my doubts. Her nightmares have been worse than ever, and the compulsive cleaning and hoarding candy bars have reached epic levels. Just the other day, I opened the cabinet beneath the sink and sixty chocolate bars—yeah, I counted—tumbled out, right onto the spotless linoleum. Spotless I say because, damn, that floor has been gleaming.