Today's Promises

by S. R. Grey

  “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.

  “No,” I tell Flynn. “I’m coming along. I need to do this with you.”

  I don’t add that if we get through today, there’s something else I’d like to do. I’m hoping I’ll find the courage to talk about my experiences with Allison, and ultimately help Detective Silver build an assault case against her.

  Because if there’s one thing I have no doubt of, it’s that that bitch needs to stay behind bars.

  Flynn

  Finding my sorry ass back on the Lowry property is no easier than it was the first go-round. However, it’s not me I’m worried about on this day. It’s Jaynie who concerns me. She had it a whole lot worse than any of us during her time here, especially towards the end.

  That’s why I feel the need to keep checking to make sure she’s all right.

  “Do you want to turn around?” I ask as we walk with Detective Silver to the brick colonial house we once called home. I’ve been noticing her glancing longingly back at the car, so this seems like a good time to ask if she still wants to do this. “Jaynie, we can leave. Right now, if that’s what you want.”

  “No.” She squeezes my hand. “I’m still good.”

  I wonder though, as her hand has remained locked with mine since the car ride up. Her skin usually feels cool, and her grasp is light and easy. But not today. Today she’s sweating bullets and holding on to me for dear life.

  When we reach the house, Detective Silver declares, “I’d like for us to begin the walk-through inside.”

  “I really think the old barn would be a better place to start,” I counter.

  “We’ll get there, Flynn,” Detective Silver assures me. “But first I’d like to hit these buildings one by one.”

  “Okay,” I say as I watch Jaynie nod her assent.

  On our way up to the porch that’s attached to the front of the house, we’re careful to watch our step. The walkway is crumbling and it’d be easy to trip. Wow, everything looks so different. Even the flowers that once lined the sides of the stone path are long gone. The porch, as we begin to climb the steps, has so many gaping holes marking the floorboards that we have to step around them in a zig-zag pattern.

  “This place is a mess,” Jaynie murmurs when we reach the door. The front door that is, as the screen door, ripped from its hinges, is lying off to the side.

  “Yes, conditions up here are bad,” Detective Silver says. “Be sure to tread lightly and watch that you don’t step on any sharp objects once we’re in the house.”

  In the house, when Jaynie gasps upon viewing the appearance, I lean in and whisper, “I told you the place looked like it’d been hit by a tornado.”

  And it has. The furniture that wasn’t outright stolen has been knocked all over, busted into pieces in most cases. Whole sections of the hardwood floors have been ripped up, and there are holes punched into the walls. Frayed wires and busted pipes jut out, appearing almost lewd with their obscene angles.

  “Ugh, this is gross. Looks like some partiers really went to town in here,” Jaynie remarks as she steps over a pile of empty beer cans and used condoms.

  Detective Silver, getting down to the business of why we’re here, asks if we happen to remember any hiding places in the house. “I’m hoping being back here may spur some memories,” he says, a statement that makes Jaynie wince. Stirred memories are the last thing my girl needs.

  “Nothing comes to mind,” I’m quick to say.

  “Think about places where a body could be stowed away,” he goes on. “Any small cubby holes or secret passages could harbor more than just dust.”

  “Secret passages?” I mumble. “This place isn’t that extensive.”

  “Besides,” Jaynie adds, “If there’d been a secret passageway, we certainly would’ve used it to escape.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. And then I add, ”Wouldn’t you think if a body was buried in the house we would have noticed a smell.”

  Jaynie scrunches up her nose. “Flynn,” she chastises. “That’s disgusting.”

  “It’s also highly doubtful,” the detective chimes in. “Debbie Canfield disappeared a few years before you or Jaynie lived here. If a body had ever been hidden in this house, it would’ve likely been nothing but bones by the time you got here.”

  Jaynie, shuddering, says, “Okay, okay. I still don’t think the body was ever in this house. I mean, look around.” She gestures to the mess about us. “If a body was hidden anywhere in this place, even if it was now nothing but a skeleton, someone surely would have found it by now.”

  “That’s a valid point,” the detective agrees as he scans the debris.

  “My money’s still on the old barn up in the fields,” I interject.

  Detective Silver turns to me. “Yes, you seem so certain that this old barn will hold something. But I wanted to ask you a question before we head up there.”

  “Sure, shoot.”

  “Don’t you think the newer structure would be a better place to search?” Detective Silver motions to where the work barn, the pole barn where we once made crafts, is located, down a slope just beyond the house. “That newer barn is much closer to this place,” the detective goes on. “And that would’ve made it that much easier for an assailant to transport a body, assuming the murder took place in here. That barn outside was the official workplace, correct?”

  I shake my head as I say, “It was our work barn, yes, but that wasn’t where the kids made crafts back when Debbie lived here.”

  “What do you mean?” the detective asks.

  “The barn where we worked, the one you’re talking about, is relatively new. But the old barn…” I point to an intact window, one with a view up the hill from the house. “See that old structure up there? That’s where Debbie would’ve worked. That’s the barn I have a feeling about. That’s the one we should be searching.”

  “It makes the most sense to me too,” Jaynie says, jumping in. “Even though the old barn used to be the work area at one time, not too many people spent any time up there after the new barn was finished. That made it remote and private.”

  “Interesting,” Detective Silver muses. And then he asks, “Have either of you ever been inside that structure?”

  Jaynie takes the lead in responding to this question, which I welcome. It means she’s growing more comfortable with being back here.

  “We would venture up there from time to time,” she tells Silver. “I actually think we were the first kids to play up there in ages. Still, we kept mostly to the outside area. If we did venture into the barn, it was never for more than a minute or two. See, it’s really dark and kind of creepy in there.”

  Detective Silver states grimly, “I think we better take a look inside this old barn.”

  Retracing our steps over the same fields Jaynie and I ran through our final and desperate night brings up a myriad of emotions. I’m usually good at keeping my feelings bottled up, especially in front of strangers, but this time is different. Those stirred-up emotions get the best of me, and I have to stop for a minute to get a hold of myself.

  Bending over and placing my hands on my knees, Jaynie touches my shoulder lightly. “Flynn, are you all right?”

  “Yeah, sure, I’m good. Just a little overheated is all.”

  I make a production of fanning myself, bu
t Jaynie knows I’m full of shit. I mean, come on. I left my heavy coat in the detective’s car because I was too warm. But it’s not really all that warm today, not when you’re wearing a light T-shirt like I am. Plus there’s the fact that I’m in really good shape. Trekking up a hill would hardly result in me sucking wind and complaining of the heat.

  Still, my girl has my back and plays along. That’s what we do—we cover for each other, always.

  “Go ahead and rest up for a minute,” Detective Silver says when Jaynie asks if we can have a minute for me to cool down. “I have a quick call I need to make, anyway.”

  When he’s a good distance from us, I turn to Jaynie and say, “I think he’s onto us. He’s no dummy. He knows I’m not overheated. I bet he doesn’t even need to make a call.”

  “Maybe not,” she says softly. “Maybe he’s just being nice. I think it’s possible. I really do get a good vibe from him.”

  I nod. “Yeah, I do too. That’s why I agreed to help in the first place. And, as for you, I could tell you were okay with him when you jumped in the conversation down at the house.”

  “I am okay with him,” she confirms. “And aside from him being a decent human being, I think he really does want to solve this case.”

  “I think he does too,” I agree.

  “It’s only right, Flynn. If that poor girl Debbie really is buried up here, she deserves justice.”

  “Yeah…” I run a hand through my scruffy hair as I smile over at Jaynie. “She definitely does.”

  I love that she is so amped to help. Maybe helping people, even people who are no longer with us, is what she needs to heal.

  Peering up at the barn, the rotted wood exterior appearing dark and wet, she says, “So you definitely think that barn is the most likely place for Debbie to have been buried?”

  “Well, I don’t know for sure,” I reply. “But yeah, the old barn is where I’d start.”

  Her brow creasing, like it does when she’s worried, Jaynie asks, “What if she’s not in the barn, though? What then, Flynn? What if the police can’t find a body up on this property anywhere?”

  Jaynie makes a sweeping motion to the acres and acres of fields and forest surrounding us, and I mumble, “It is a daunting task.”