Today's Promises (Promises #2)(43)

My eyes meet Jaynie’s and she blushes ever so slightly. She’s so cute. “I remember everything about that night, Flynn,” she whispers.

“As do I,” I reply. I go to her and urge her to sit with me on the bed.

Neither of us will ever forget the time we spent in the forest, the way we re-connected. And hell, whatever we did that night worked, as both of us are doing better than ever. But we won’t be faring all that well if Allison is released from prison. That bitch will surely seek out vengeance on Jaynie. Her hatred for my girl runs deep. I always wondered why that was, but knowing what we now know, it all makes sense. Jaynie resembles Debbie, the missing girl Allison most likely offed.

“I like our new life, Flynn,” Jaynie says as she leans her head against my shoulder. “I don’t want it to be ripped apart. Everything always seems to get taken from us.”

She starts to cry and I hold her in my arms. “Not this time,” I say, determined. “Nothing is going to change. I swear to you, sweetheart, I will not allow us to fall back apart.”

“But we already are,” she sobs. “Or at least I am. I haven’t cried in weeks, and”—she lifts her head from my chest so I can see her puffy and tear-streaked face—“look at me now. This is me backsliding, Flynn.”

“You’re not backsliding, Jaynie. I won’t let you.”

And that is when I promise her that I will do everything in my power to make sure Allison remains locked up. No matter what it takes. Hell, I’ll plant the damn evidence if it comes to it. And Jaynie doesn’t know this, but I have the means to do exactly that. That’s been my back-up plan for a while now.

Still, I hope it doesn’t come to what would definitely be the commission of a crime, since the only thing worse than Allison’s early release from prison would be for me to end up behind bars. I’d be unable to protect Jaynie, not to mention I’d be breaking every promise I’ve ever made to her.

Fuck, man, it just can’t come to that.





Jaynie



The next day, we decide to return to the Lowry property.

It’s a lazy kind of Saturday, but not for Flynn and me. We spend the entirety of the afternoon combing through the work barn and the surrounding outdoor areas.

When we find nothing useful, we search the house.

We even search the old barn again on the off chance we missed something when we were up here with Detective Silver.

It’s an easy sweep of the old barn, since the excavation crew left the interior essentially destroyed. We find the stall walls torn down, the wood piled neatly in the corner, and the trunks emptied. And though the dirt floor has remained mostly intact, it’s clear from the way our sneakers sink into the soil that several feet of the barn floor was dug up and sifted for clues.

Resigned that Allison must have covered her tracks so well that nothing will ever come to light to implicate her in Debbie’s disappearance, I sit smack-dab in the middle of the mushy dirt floor and pull my knees up to my chin. I’d like to curl up in a ball and disappear, but the best I can do right now is lower my head to between my knees and close my eyes.

Blowing out a breath wrought with abandoned hope, I quietly declare, “We’re screwed, Flynn.”

I feel his warmth as he sits down beside me. “Hey,” he says encouragingly, “we’re not out of options yet.”

I lift my head, open my eyes, and gape over at him. “Are you high? There’s clearly nothing up here to implicate Allison of anything. I’d say that equates to us being screwed.”

He frowns. “Just because we haven’t found anything doesn’t mean there’s nothing here.”

I’m at the point of near exasperation. Can’t he see the truth?

“Jesus, Flynn, there’s no evidence, okay? It’s time for us to accept it.”

He reaches around to the back pocket of his jeans, and says quietly, “Maybe there is some evidence, Jaynie.”

I watch, wide-eyed, as he pulls out a vial of blood. “Holy shit, Flynn! Is that what I think it is?”

“Yes,” he replies, turning the vial over in his hands and peering at it like it may hold the key to everything. “It’s blood.”

“Who the hell does it belong to?” I ask, even though I have a feeling I know the answer.

Flynn says softly, “Uh, it just may be a sample of Debbie Canfield’s blood.”

“May be or is, Flynn?”

His eyes focus on me as he says, “It’s Debbie’s blood.”

Like a thunderbolt, it dawns on me where this blood must have come from.

“Oh, God, Flynn,” I exclaim, shaking my head. “You stole one of the vials of the missing girl’s blood from Detective Silver? When did this happen? Did you take it during the car ride up the day we met with him? God, you must have. What in the hell were you thinking? And where have you kept it all this time.”

“I kept it in a little cooler in the closet where I was keeping my candy stash,” he says. “And as for what I was thinking, I was thinking it may eventually come to this.”

“What does that mean?” I tentatively ask.

“Jaynie, I think you know.”

I do, but I just don’t want to say it. Flynn is going to use this blood to plant evidence.