Today's Promises (8 page)

Jaynie

F
lynn’s busy working his new job all week, and I continue with my own shifts at the sandwich shop. We’re too tired most nights to discuss much of anything, let alone the case of the missing girl and how we’re supposed to help. Sometimes I can’t believe I volunteered to return to the Lowry house, considering all my misgivings. But something deep inside my heart compelled me to offer my assistance.

Doing so has been good for me too, in a surprising way. Taking the reins and feeling in control is something I’ve missed. Not that I’ve had tons of experience knowing how these things feel.

But I’m learning. And it’s making me feel, dare I say, empowered.

I’ve noticed my nightmares have lessened this week, and that’s a first. In addition, I’m not hoarding as many candy bars as before. Hopefully, this positive progress will continue. I just pray I don’t lose my shit when I actually step back on the Lowry property.

I’ll have to keep reminding myself, again and again, that Flynn is there with me so I’ll be okay.

It seems so distant anyway.

But then it happens—Flynn calls Detective Silver on Friday evening, and the proverbial ball starts rolling.

Placing the detective on speaker, Flynn first informs him that I will be joining their effort to try and locate the burial spot for the unfortunate Debbie Canfield. To say Detective Silver is pleased to have two of us onboard would be an understatement.

He gushes to Flynn, “That’s great. Another set of eyes can only help, especially eyes belonging to someone who once lived up there too.”

They talk a bit more, and I sort of zone out, until I hear Detective Silver asking if we can meet him tomorrow.

Whoa, that soon?
I think, panicked.

“Sure,” Flynn says. “That works for us.”

“Great,” I murmur sarcastically, and Flynn’s gaze snaps to me.

He quickly wraps up with Detective Silver, and, turning to me, says, “You can always back out, Jaynie.”

“No, I’m good,” I insist.

But really, am I?

Sleep eludes me that night. Well, that’s no surprise, considering. In any case, I end up waking Flynn with all my tossing and turning.

He kisses the top of my head and pulls me to him. In a sleepy voice, he murmurs, “Let’s call the detective in the morning and cancel. Let’s see if we can meet him another time. Or I could always go alone tomorrow.”

“No.” I snuggle in closer to this guy who has the ability to soothe my troubled self. “I should be fine,” I continue, “as long as you’re there with me.”

“Always,” Flynn whispers. “I’ll always be by your side, Jaynie. For all the simple things and for all this harder stuff too.”

“I don’t deserve you,” I whisper.

But Flynn silences my insecurity with kisses. Lots of kisses. Things proceed to heat up quickly, as they always do, and soon all sleep clothes are discarded. We then find things to do—such as giving each other intense pleasure—to keep apprehension at bay.

The next morning, however, my nerves are back on edge.

As we ride on a bus bound for Forsaken, I’m as jittery as ever.

“Now I understand why you needed a cigarette the other night,” I joke to Flynn. I laugh shakily, my knees bouncing up and down, a motion I find oddly soothing. “I’ve never smoked, but maybe I should start.”

I’m kidding, but Flynn doesn’t find my statement amusing.

“Don’t ever start,” he warns. “Once you’re hooked, it’s hard to ever quit completely. You always have those cravings.”

“I was only joking,” I assure him, my knees moving faster.

“I know, babe.” Flynn places his hand on one leg and calms the movement of both. “Keep it together, Jaynie. You got this,” he tells me. “Everything will go smoothly.”

When his hand remains on my leg, I note, “You’re really warm, Flynn.”

He squeezes my thigh, which is covered by a thin pair of black leggings. “Yeah, good call on your part, wearing lighter clothes.” He nods down to the heavy winter parka he’s wearing. “Me? I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m dying in this heavy coat. It’s making me hot as hell.”

“You
are
hot as hell.” I wink as I nudge his shoulder.

Chuckling, Flynn lowers his head, embarrassed. “Jaynie…”

I adore how sometimes he’s suddenly shy about his good looks. It makes him all the more attractive.

But I do feel for him on the coat thing. Neither of us bothered to check the weather; I just lucked out. It’s still early spring, but this March day seems to be warming up rapidly. I grabbed a jacket before we left, but mine is much lighter than Flynn’s. I have on a worn, threadbare hand-me-down I snatched at a local thrift store last month.

“You should just leave your coat in Detective Silver’s car once we’re up at the house,” I suggest. “It’ll be too hot walking around the Lowry property wearing that thing.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, suddenly distracted.

I realize then that we’re nearing the bus stop. And Flynn is nervous too. Facing your demons head-on, the ones from the past, that crap’s never easy. But we can do this. We made a promise to assist the detective and now we’re committed to following through.

I review the plan in my head, trying to look at things objectively.

We meet Detective Silver at the bus stop, where he’ll drive us up to the Lowry place. From there we’ll conduct what the detective termed a ‘walk-through,’ throughout which he’d like for us to give him any info we deem useful in finding the missing girl’s remains.

And now there’s no more time to think.

For better or worse, it’s show-time…

When we reach the stop, the lumbering bus slows to a crawl, and then comes to a complete stop. Flynn taps the fingerprint-smudged window to draw my attention to a nondescript white sedan parked at the curb. Though the vehicle is unmarked, it’s clear it’s a law enforcement car.

“There’s our ride,” Flynn confirms. “That’s Detective Silver’s car.”

“Here goes nothing,” I mutter.

I’m apprehensive about meeting new people, especially those in positions of power. But Detective Silver turns out to be really nice. He puts me at ease almost immediately with his warm, affable ways.

While he makes small talk with Flynn, I look him over. He must be in his early forties. Not a bad-looking man, the detective’s tall and thin, with salt-and-pepper hair that’s thick and neatly coifed.

As we stand on the sidewalk, I start to feel uneasy, though. For some reason, the detective’s attention has focused more and more on me. After a few minutes, he’s eyeing me intently, his pale blue eyes assessing.

So much for putting me at ease
.

“Okayyy,” I mutter under my breath as I shift from one sneakered foot to the other.

When the detective frowns, his gaze never wavering from me, Flynn, who’s obviously as curious as I am as to what could be so utterly fascinating about me, clears his throat and flat-out asks the detective, “Sir, is there something wrong with Jaynie? You keep looking at her like something’s really wrong.”

“Oh, no, nothing is wrong.” The detective, averting his gaze, rubs a hand down his face. “And I do apologize.”

He’s clearly embarrassed, and after a long pause, his eyes return to me, albeit in an apologetic manner.

“Again,” he says, “let me reiterate that I’m sorry for staring at you like that, Miss Cumberland. It’s just that you look remarkably similar to the missing girl, Debbie Canfield.”

Immediately disturbed by this revelation, I say, “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m afraid I’m not,” the detective grimly replies.

“Oh, wonderful,” I say, my voice high and laced with sarcasm. “I look like the girl who went missing. Are you sure about this?”

“Here, let me show you.” Detective Silver fishes what looks to be a small color photograph of Debbie Canfield from the pocket of his trench coat. He hands me it to me. And crap. Sixteen-year-old Debbie, to my dismay, looks an awful lot like me.

“Oh, wow,” I murmur as I stare down at the photo.

The resemblance is truly uncanny. I am older, of course—eighteen, not sixteen. But otherwise we look a lot alike. Debbie has the same wavy auburn hair, similar green eyes, and high cheekbones, just like me.

“Holy shit,” Flynn exclaims when I pass the picture over for him to take a look.

He quickly hands the photo back to the detective, like it’s too difficult for him to peer down at a girl who so closely resembles me. And one who is currently presumed to be dead.

Shit, I kind of feel the same way
.

“Maybe this explains why Allison hated me so much right from the start,” I offer, shuddering. “If she’s the one who did do something to Debbie, then when I showed up, looking so similar to the girl she’d offed, it had to have been disturbing to her.”

“To say the least,” Flynn mumbles.

The detective pulls a notepad from his coat and starts asking questions. “Do you feel you were singled out during your time at the Lowry residence? Were you treated more harshly than the others, particularly at the hand of Allison Lowry?”

I glance over at Flynn. He takes my hand, offering his support for whatever I choose to do. Truth is, though, I don’t really care to share the horrible things that were done to me, not with the detective…or anyone else.

“We all had it bad,” I whisper, head bowed.

“Miss Cumberland, even if we don’t find the body of the missing girl, you could help build a case against Ms. Lowry. There’s a good chance she’d remain in prison longer than what she’s currently looking at if she were charged with assault.”

My head jerks up. “Does that mean you have some insight regarding her sentence? Flynn and I calculated that the earliest she’d be up for parole is sometime next year.”

Detective Silver shoots me an apologetic look. “That would be true under normal circumstances,” he begins, sighing. “But I’m afraid with the overcrowding situation as it is at the women’s correction facility where Allison resides, and also with her being in for a non-violent offense, there’s a better-than-good chance she’ll be up for early release
this
summer.”

“
This
summer? That’s only a few months away.” There’s real fear in my tone when I turn to Flynn and say, “We should move to another state.”

I am terrified of Allison, but thankfully Flynn sees things more rationally than I.

“Jaynie,” he says, “we’re not letting Allison chase us away, not again. We ran once, but at least we ended up where we always planned to go. We have connections here in West Virginia. Mandy and the twins are up in Morgantown, and Bill Delmont is in Lawrence. Hell, even here in Forsaken, I have a friend in Crick.”

“But—”

“No, Jaynie. We need our support system. Plus, I just landed a decent-paying job. You still have your position at the sandwich shop, and I can pick up a shift there when things get busy. More money will be coming in real soon. We can buy a car, find a better apartment, all those things we talked about. If we run, we’ll have to start all over again.”

Everything Flynn says is making sense.

But there’s still a part of me that longs to flee.

“Hold up,” Detective Silver interjects. “There’s no need for Jaynie to put anything on record today.” He slips the notepad back in his pocket and gestures to his car. “Let’s take that ride up to the property. We’ll simply look around the place like we planned.”

“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.