Today's Promises (Promises #2)(47)

My gaze meets Flynn, and I nod.

He then asks the detective, “You’ll send this stuff to a lab for testing, right?” His eyes never leave mine.

“Yes,” Silver confirms. “Whatever we find will be analyzed for evidence.”

Flynn and I let out a collective sigh of relief, knowing that the blood will be a match to Debbie Canfield.

I muster up the courage to ask a question of my own. “Detective Silver, when do you think you’ll go to the property to check out what we found?”

He hesitates, like he’s pondering, and, at last, he says, “Well, today is Sunday and most everyone is off. I’d prefer to take a full forensics team up with me since you mentioned possible blood.” I hear the detective flipping through pages of what I assume is his planner. “Tomorrow I’m testifying on another case,” he murmurs. “That’ll take up most of the day.” More page-flipping and then, “Tuesday looks good.”

“Tuesday,” I echo.

“Is it too much to ask for you to keep us updated?” Flynn wants to know.

“I always do,” the detective reminds us.

“Yeah, yeah, you do,” Flynn says, his voice a little guilty-sounding. “And, uh, thanks for that.”

“No problem.”

The call comes to an end.

“What do we do now?” I ask Flynn.

“We wait.”





I’m off from work on Monday. Flynn takes the bus and leaves the car with me. I need the car for a good reason, one he and I have discussed at length…and one I feel is high time I get a move on.

I finally made an appointment with a career counselor over at the local community college, and she has me scheduled in for ten this morning.

At the meeting, things go better than expected. I end up leaving the school filled with hope that my dream of someday helping kids in a meaningful way may truly become a reality. Armed with course schedules for the fall semester, I climb into the car. After I deposit my packet of info on the passenger seat, I send a quick text to Flynn.

Hey, just got out of my meeting at the school. It went really well! The career counselor told me if I take my core courses here at the community college, everything should transfer to a four-year school, no problem. That’d be perfect, since even with aid we’ll still have loans. This way, we’ll save a lot.

Flynn texts back: Babe, I am so happy for you. I knew you could do it. And I believe in you for the steps ahead of you too. You’re going to be a star student, and someday you’ll become to the kids you help what you already are to me—a saving grace.

You’re sweet, I text back. I love you so much.

I love you too, Jaynie-bird.

Smiling, I set the phone on the passenger seat and start the car. I’m all set to return to our rented room, but as I start driving my joyful feeling wanes. I’m bothered by a troubling thought, a thought that started as a nagging concern, but is now a full-blown worry.

“Hell with going home,” I mutter as I make a turn to the road that leads out of Lawrence and toward Forsaken.

“You better hurry,” I prod myself when I’m halfway to my destination.

I’m tapping the steering wheel like Flynn does when he’s uneasy. Damn, I need to haul ass to the Lowry property if I’m going to be successful in saving the man I love.

See, I have to do something before I can even think of saving kids like me and Flynn. I need to save us, first. And that means I cannot allow Flynn to sacrifice his future to save mine. Not now that the future we dreamed of is within our grasp.

“We can’t f*ck this up,” I whisper, hitting the gas.

I drive toward the work barn on the Lowry property, while there’s still time to fix the mess we made. I need to get rid of that planted evidence as soon as possible. And that means I must get to it before the detective does, which is supposed to be tomorrow.

If Allison ends up released in a month, then so be it. The cost to keep her in prison is just too high. If we’re caught, Flynn will be put away, just like his father. Damn, he could even end up in the same prison as his dad. And that would surely kill him.

I hit the gas.





Flynn



I’m so happy for Jaynie, going after her dreams like this. There was a time when she could barely deal with people. She was that broken by the system. But finally she’s strong enough that she actually feels she can help the kids society casts aside.

I’m interrupted from my reverie when the foreman yells at me. “Get a move on, O’Neill. You’re on the clock. Daydream on your own damn time.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply.

He then sends me over to work in another area of the apartments we’re building.

Fine, I can use the walk over to think about my own future.

I’ve been thinking about what I want to do, career-wise, a lot lately anyway. Working construction is all fine and good while I’m young and strong, but what will happen when I get older? I could always hope for a promotion to foreman, which would involve more overseeing. But even if that comes to pass, there’s still the weather to factor in. Here in this part of the country construction is not really a year-round gig. At least, not a steady one. In the summer, like now, work is plentiful. But come winter, it’s a whole new ballgame.