Today's Promises (10 page)

“I know. But he thinks there could be a weapon, or something relevant, stowed away in all that junk. Or…” He looks away, then mumbles, “Never mind.”

“Wait.” I grab his arm. “What were you going to say?”

Sighing, he says, “He mentioned that Allison could’ve cut up the body and tossed the pieces in a trunk.”

“Ugh! Flynn, that’s a hideous thought.”

He shrugs. “If the girl was killed, then it was obviously a hideous crime. What do you expect, Jaynie?”

“I don’t know. Just…not that.”

“If you ask me, this whole task is disgusting.”

He’s not wrong about that.

“Okay, Flynn and Jaynie.” The detective, thankfully, comes over and interrupts our unpleasant discussion. “Let’s get to work.”

He and Flynn start by canvassing the dirt floor, while I am assigned to go through the musty, old trunks.

Thankfully, I find no body parts.

Aside from some other antiquated holiday decorations, I come upon nothing more than a few ratty blankets and a bunch of old tools.

“Nothing of interest in any of these,” I announce when I’m finished.

“We should check up in the hayloft,” Flynn suggests.

He and the detective have just finished with the barn floor, so up the old rickety ladder the three of us go, with the detective in the lead.

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 fucked,” Flynn finishes for him.

Flynn

D
ays 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.

When we reach our destination, I hop out of Crick’s truck. Striding to the front gate, I shade my eyes from the glare of the setting sun.

Through the wire fence, I peer down at my once-upon-a-time home. “And a crappy home it was,” I murmur, feeling like the world is against us, once more.

But then I spy heavy construction equipment, parked up by the house, and my mood is lifted. “Thank Christ,” I mumble.

Shit, I still have so many trust issues. Even though I truly believe he’s a good guy, a part of me didn’t fully believe Detective Silver. Especially since I haven’t heard from him since the day we were up here. That’s why I felt so compelled to come back today, to see if he’d kept his word.

Once I’m back in the truck, Crick, sensing my better mood, finally gets around to asking me why I was so amped to come up to the Lowry property today. Since I trust Crick—he’s one of the few people I do trust besides Jaynie—I quietly share with him the details of the missing girl case.

Leaning back as I finish my tale, Crick lets out a low whistle. “Shit,” he says, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “I used to hear the rumors about what was going on up at this place. You know, all the child labor shit and whatnot.”

He shoots me a
mea culpa
sidelong glance, and though it’s not necessary, I do appreciate the sentiment. “Thanks,” I murmur.

“Anyway,” he continues, “I’ll tell you one thing.”

“What’s that, Crick?”

“I sure feel bad now. Fessing up to the fact that I never really put much stock into all that talk makes me feel lower than garbage. It’s just that I never thought about it much. Not till I met you, and you started telling me how fucked-up things were for you and the other kids who lived here. It was too late by then, though. The place had already been shut down.”

“Crick…” I blow out a breath. “There’s no reason in the world for you to feel bad.”

“No crying over spilled pop, yeah?”

I don’t correct him that he probably means ‘spilled milk.’ I just simply say, “There was nothing you or anyone else could have done, not really. Before she went to prison, Mrs. Lowry was looked upon as a godsend to this town. The state foster care system sure saw her in that light, that’s for sure.”

“Still, kid… If a girl lost her life up here… Well, shit, man. Let’s just say it doesn’t leave me feelin’ too good about myself for blowing off those rumors.”

Crick appears truly stricken. But there’s no sense in him suffering too. Mrs. Lowry and Allison have hurt enough fucking people.

I focus on what’s really important and say, “Hey, at least something’s being done about it now.”

“Better late than ever, I guess.”

Chuckling, I do correct him on that one, if only to simply lighten the mood. “I think the phrase goes ‘better late than
never.
’”

Crick starts up his truck. “Yeah. That too, kid,” he replies.

Back at the apartment, I give Jaynie the update.

“So there’s definitely excavation equipment up there?” she inquires, double-checking.

I shake my head. Jaynie is as distrustful as I am. Maybe someday we’ll get past this since it’d sure feel good to take people at their word.

“Flynn?” she prompts.

To which I assure her, “Yes, there’s equipment there…lots of it. Detective Silver kept his promise to us.”

We’re both relieved.

But the waiting game continues.

While we await word of any progress, good or bad, Jaynie and I try to get on with our lives. And, after a while, something interesting begins to happen—life starts to become, well, kind of normal.

Jaynie mentions exactly that one afternoon, and I say, “Normal is good, babe. We need normal.”

Our days soon take on a comforting routine, one in which we find a tiny thread of solace. And that’s good. We can work with a thread. A thread leads to two, then three. Soon enough, that happens and we start sewing together the normal pieces of a life we’ve never known.

We build something.

We work and we love and we play.

And we heal more and more.

We learn to have fun again, finding joy in even the smallest of things.

An example…

One Friday afternoon, a light snow begins to fall. By four o’clock, it’s blizzard-time. When the bus drops me off around seven, there must be six inches on the ground, maybe more. Lawrence is a ghost town, but I kind of like it.

After trudging down a slippery sidewalk, thankful that I have on my heaviest of work boots, I tromp into the sandwich shop.

Jaynie is closing out the cash register and yells up to me, “Take off your boots!”

Chuckling, I do as she asks, and then I pad to the back in my wooly socks.

There’s not a single customer in the shop, so I’m not the least bit surprised when Jaynie looks up from the register and informs me, “Bill went home early because of all the snow. He told me to go ahead and close up. No one is coming out in this mess.”

“Not likely,” I reply, yawning as I take a seat on a stool.

“You want some coffee?” she asks.

I take off my gloves. “Yeah, sure. That’d be great, babe.”

Jaynie finishes with the register, pours me some coffee, and then starts wrapping up cold cuts and cheeses she pulls from a case under the counter.

“You want any help putting that stuff away?” I ask.

“Yeah”—she pushes a roll of salami and two cheeses my way—“sure.”

My stomach starts to growl, which makes Jaynie smack her head and declare, “Crap. I forgot all about dinner.”

“I am kind of famished,” I state. “Lunch was hours ago. I’m probably pretty close to starving about now.”

I’m teasing around, but I realize my mistake immediately when Jaynie’s eyes meet mine. “You’re just kidding, right?” She chews at her bottom lip. “You’re just a normal kind of hungry, I hope?”