Secondhand Sinners

by Genevieve Lynne

  “Havin’ one of those days. Ms. Violet,” Jasmine said, trying to tug the sheet off her face. “You gotta settle down. Think of sumthin’ that makes ya happy, like kickin’ young children or spittin’ on nuns.”

  The beeping in the room slowed down while Violet’s face relaxed.

  “Looks like she’s smiling,” Miller said, picking up a salt shaker that was still on the floor.

  “Humph. That lady don’t smile.”

  “So Jenny Abernathy. I’m trying to get in touch with her, and it’s very important.”

  “Ain’t she a bit young for you?”

  “It’s not like that.” He thought of telling her about Alan, then the image of Emily’s beaten face and terrified eyes flashed in his mind and he decided against it.

  “What makes you think I know where she lives?” Jasmine motioned to a plastic cup that was underneath chair. “Get that for me, will ya?”

  He handed her the cup. “I was told she used to work here.”

  “Used to.”

  “Don’t you have personnel records?”

  “Yeah, huh. For personnel.” She pointed a tube in the corner by the bathroom door. “Hand me that Neosporin.”

  He handed it to her. “Do you remember anything about her? Anything at all. Did she live in town?”

  Jasmine looked up and crinkled her nose. “Outside of town.”

  “Five miles? Ten Miles?”

  “I don’ know. You try Facebook?”

  “No. I did not try Facebook.”

  “You might oughtta. Hand me that down there. People put ever’thing on that.”

  He reached down to pick it up the tube she wanted him to get but stopped himself when he realized what it was. Not another tube. A syringe. “You don’t happen to leave syringes lying around do you?”

  “‘Course not.”

  “Hand me a glove.”

  Jasmine handed him a glove, which he used to pick it up. “What does that smell like to you?”

  She leaned in and sniffed the syringe. “Bleach.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  Emily

  When Miller’s truck pulled away, Emily was unsure if the sensation rising in her was hope or fear. It was as if the two emotions were at war with one another, each one fed by her own thoughts. Miller would find Jack…if Jack really was being cared for and hadn’t been left to wander alone in the woods. This would all be over soon, if there was anything of value inside that damn box at the bank. It was so hard to think clearly with the headache that had been pounding in her head since she woke up in Alan’s car without her son. Even those four Tylenol weren’t helping.

  Alan moved away from the front door and pulled on her arm. “Step away from the window, Em. We’ve got work to do. Get the girl and let’s go.”

  Abby hadn’t moved. She was still sitting on her hands on the sofa like Alan told her to do. It was the first time they’d been together since she watched the video and then live feed of Miller and Levi at the police station. Emily hadn’t yet entertained the possibility that Abby was the daughter she gave birth to almost fourteen years ago because it was too big, too important, too special to think about with Alan breathing down her neck. She understood why Miller was so afraid to tell her, and under normal circumstances she’d be angry that he raised their daughter so close to the family who hated her. Now that she was face-to-face with her, she realized the daughter she thought was gone for good was right in front of her. She wanted to hug her and hold her for hours. Doing that, though, would alert Alan to how much she already cared about Abby. He’d use it against her, like he’d used Jack.

  “Come on, sweetie.” She offered her hand to Abby. “It’s almost over.”

  “Your hands are shaking. Are you okay?”

  That was a good question. She had to be. There was no other choice. Abby needed her to be strong. “It’s adrenaline.”

  “You don’t look good.”

  “It looks worse than it feels. I promise.”

  Abby took the hand Emily was offering. As they followed Alan out the back door, all Emily could think about was how Jack was all alone.

  “Why is he doing this?”

  Alan whirled around and took Emily by the arm, pulling her close enough so that she could see the red streaks in his bloodshot eyes. “I told you to keep her quiet,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “She’s scared, Alan.”

  Emily cringed with pain when he squeezed her bruised arm. “She can be scared and quiet, can’t she?”

  “I’ll be quiet,” Abby spoke up. “I won’t say another word. Please stop hurting her.”

  “You don’t like it when I hurt her?”

  Abby shook her head.

  “So if I do this,” he twisted Emily’s arm behind her back and pulled on it, lighting up the muscles in her shoulder, “you don’t like it?”

  Tears fell from Abby’s eyes as she bit her bottom lip and shook her head, keeping her promise to not say another word.

  “That’s good to know.” Alan released Emily’s arm and pushed her into Abby. “One more peep and I’ll do that again, only harder.” He pulled out his gun and pointed it at them one at a time. “Now you two go in front of me.”

  Emily held Abby’s hand in her own as they took the lead, hoping it would comfort and encourage the traumatized girl and praying Miller would soon be there to comfort and encourage Jack.

  Once they were all in Alan’s cruiser, he reached underneath his seat, pulled out a manila envelope, and handed it to her. “Open it. Look at what’s in there.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re the second owner of the box.”

  “No I’m not.” She plucked the envelope from him and looked through the faded yellow papers. “Why is my name on these?”

  “Like I said, you’re the second owner of the box.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You think I do? Imagine my surprise. After years of taking care of the son-of-a-bitch, I finally get him into that home, then finally get my hands on his papers, and all he has is that damn safe deposit box with your name on it.”

  “Maybe he had Daniel's name on it but changed it after he died.”

  “Look at the date on the top of that form.”

  Emily looked. She couldn’t focus on the tiny type. It was blurry, like when she woke up in the morning after sleeping in her contacts. She blinked a few times and was finally able to focus. “October of my freshman year. Daniel was still alive.”

  “Exactly.” He grabbed the papers from her and slid them back into the envelope, taking more care with that task than she believed he was capable after the last several hours with him. “What’d you do to get him to share his money with you?”

  “Nothing, I swear. Have you considered the possibility there’s nothing valuable in there?”

  “Why did you say that? Did you already take the money out?”

  “I didn’t even know about it until today. Hoyt never cared about how much money he had, so how do you know his treasure is money?”

  “It’s money. It has to be.”

  She was trying to manage his expectations, something she had to do with Jack all the time. Hopefully there was money in that box, though she still couldn’t help worrying that there was something twisted in there, like the mummified ears of hookers Hoyt had killed and buried in his backyard. As sad as it was, it sounded more reasonable than money.

  ***

  Once they were parked in front of the bank, Alan lit up a cigarette. After taking a few drags, he snuffed it out in the tray. “I’m going to go check out the scene. If either of you try to run, if you even try to open your door, I’ll shoot you and say you were evading arrest. And you can forget about me telling you where your kid is. Got it?”

  “Yes,” Emily answered for both of them.

  “And no talking either.”

  Alan got out and when he was looking through the glass into the bank lobby, Emily flipped the visor down and looked a
t Abby. “If you get a chance, I want you to run.”

  “He said he’ll shoot me.”

  “I’m going to try to talk him into letting you go. If he refuses, I’ll try to distract him or something. I won’t let him shoot you. I promise.”

  “What about you? He’ll hurt you.”

  “There’s no treasure in that box, Abby. He’s going to hurt me anyway when he sees that. If he starts hitting me, you take off. Get away from here, call your dad and help him find Jack. Please. Call the Sheriff, not Bokchito PD; they might all cover for Alan.”

  For all Emily knew, these could be the last words she’d get to say to anyone she cared about. There was no doubt in her mind that Alan was going to beat her when he realized that whatever was in that box was nothing of value. With his temper, he might not stop until she was dead. The back of her throat started to burn as she swallowed back her tears.

  “Tell your dad I’m sorry, and tell Jack he’s my Han Solo. I know that sounds ridiculous, but he’ll understand.”

  “Okay. I’ll…” Abby’s voice broke. “I’ll tell them. I promise.”

  “No matter what, please find Jack.”

  Abby gasped. “He’s coming back.”

  Emily put the visor back up. This is all going to be over soon, she told herself and whispered a quick prayer that somehow she was right.

  Once they were in the building and signed in, they took their seats in the waiting area. Emily’s head started to pound hard. The bank’s lighting didn’t help. She fished sunglasses out of her purse and put them on.

  “You okay?” Abby leaned in and asked.

  “Just a little headache.”

  “Alan?” A man who looked not much older than them approached, shook Alan’s hand, and introduced himself to Emily as Newton Longbow. “I hear you’re wanting to get into a box. You got the papers and the key?”

  “Got ‘em,” Alan said with so much enthusiasm Emily figured anything less than $100,000 would be a disappointment to him.

  Alan kept one hand on Emily’s back and the other on Abby’s elbow as they followed Newton to a room in the back. After he looked over the papers, she followed his instructions and turned her key in the lock. He did the same and pulled the box out of its drawer. He carried it to an adjoining room and set in on a table.

  He shook both their hands. “Let me know when you’re finished.”

  Alan nudged Emily over. “You open it.”

  She sat down and tried to raise the lid. It wouldn’t budge.

  “Well? Open it.”

  “Either it’s stuck or I’m too weak.”

  “There’s a latch.”

  “It’s stuck.”

  “Give it to me.”

  She pushed the box over to him, gave Abby a reassuring smile, and since Alan was distracted with the box, she mouthed, “Don’t forget.”

  Alan got the lid open and peeked inside. “There’s an envelope. It looks thick too.”

  Emily put her hand on Alan’s. “Even if there’s no money in there you—”

  “Are you crazy? Of course there’s money in there.” He opened the lid. “Look at it. It has structure, like a pile of cash. I can’t wait to go wave this dough in that old man’s face. I’ll show him who’s the dumb ass fool.”

  Emily realized then what she was really afraid of. She could take being hit, several times even, if it was for a good cause. However, she knew the whole ordeal of the day wasn’t worth whatever was in that envelope, even if it was a million dollars. Even if Alan got what he wanted, let her and Abby go and told her where Jack was, this entire day was spent in the shadow of someone…no…two people…who treasured a box in a bank more than the people in their life. This whole day had been squandered paying homage to Hoyt Thornton. She’d die for her son. She’d die for Abby and Miller. No way in hell was she going to die for Hoyt.

  Alan opened the clasp and retrieved Hoyt’s treasure, a worn blue scrapbook with peeling red heart stickers all over it. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me. A scrapbook?” He peeled one of the looser stickers off. “A scrapbook with fucking heart stickers?” He opened the book to the first page. Then the next. Then the next. And then the next. He slammed the book closed. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.”

  “What it is?”

  “Well it sure as hell ain’t money.”

  “Because he didn’t have anything. That’s not my fault. It’s not Abby’s or Jack’s or Miller’s, either. Please tell me where my son is and let us go.”

  Alan pounded both fists on the table. “This is bullshit!” His gaze darted from her to the book several times and finally settled on her. His eyes lit with some kind of recognition she could only imagine was another idea. “Stand up, both of you.”

  “Why?”

  “This ain’t over.”

  “Yes, it is.” Emily was feeling nauseated and weak again. Still, she stood up and moved in between Abby and Alan. Her head started swimming, her pulse pounding in her ears, and she had to lean on the table until the spinning stopped. When she was finally steady, she focused on Alan, who was inching his way closer to her and Abby. “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll call for help.”

  He put his hand on the gun holster on his belt and took another step toward them.

  “All I have to do is call out.”

  “You call for help and you’ll never find your little boy, not in time, anyway.”

  He’d only have enough time to shoot one of them in cold blood. Moving slowly, she helped Abby out of her chair and moved them toward the door, using her own body to shield Abby. The girl’s whole body was shaking.

  “How are you going to explain shooting me? I’m unarmed. I haven’t broken the law.”

  “Have you forgotten? I put drugs in your car.”

  “You’re lying. You said that was one plan, something you didn’t have to do once you saw that video.”

  “I decided after that whole mess with your boy that I should probably have a little…oh I don’t know…insurance.”

  “Doesn’t matter. That’s not a good reason to shoot me.”

  “I came here as a favor to you. We are former lovers, after all. Since we’re so close, you decided to confide in me about your side business. Being an officer of the court, I couldn’t let you get away with something like that. No matter how hard you tried to bribe me, no matter what you tried to bribe me with.”

  “What in the world would I bribe you with?”

  “That dove in your pocket.”

  “Dove? What’s…?” Emily reached into her pocket and felt a small bag. She pulled it out far enough to see it was a bag of drugs. “You put that in there after you knocked me out? Why are you so determined to ruin my life?”

  “Why are you so determined to keep me from what I deserve?”

  “What’s in that book that’s making you so angry?”

  “Like you don’t know.”

  “I don’t. I swear. Listen to me…” She took a step back, pushing Abby closer to the door. Her ears were ringing. She only needed to move a few more steps before Abby would be able to run. “I can get you money. I can get it from my family.”

  “There ain’t a soul in this town who’ll believe that. Everyone knows…”

  Alan was still speaking, but Emily couldn’t understand anything he was saying. No matter how much she blinked, she couldn’t focus on him. It was like she was under water, going deeper and deeper below. “A…Ab…” She couldn’t make her mouth form the words. She used what strength she had left to call out to Abby and tell her to run.

  She was still standing, holding on to Abby, looking into her terrified eyes when everything went black.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Miller

  Miller sat in the waiting room turning his phone over and over in his palm while he waited for the doctor to come in and tell him what had happened to Emily. Owens and a few of his men were at the nursing home when the dispatcher’s voice came through all three men’s radios. Miller
heard the words bank and woman in her thirties and told Owens he had to go. Owens refused, saying something about how suspicious it was that he was the one who kept finding the bleach syringes. Miller wasn’t about to stick around.

  “You’ve got my number,” he said and took off, making it to the bank in time to see the paramedics load an unconscious Emily into the back of their truck. Newton Longbow filled him in. The first time Alan had come in, he claimed he was there on police business and needed to get into the box. Newton told him to come back with a warrant or the right papers and the key. Yes, there was a young girl with them. In all the commotion of taking care of the lady, he didn’t see where she or Alan went. Miller went to Alan’s and then home. There was no sign of Alan or Abby.

  So there Miller sat, waiting for Abby to call and tell him she was okay, waiting for Emily to wake up so she could tell him where Alan took his daughter and he could tell her he wasn’t any closer to finding her son, waiting for Sheriff Owens to come back so he could confirm what Miller already knew. Alan had taken Abby, and they both were missing.

  The doctor who told Miller he’d have to wait outside the room—Sorry, Mr. Anderson, family only—came around the corner. Miller stood, trying to read his facial expression. Damn doctor was probably a poker player on the weekends.

  The doctor gave him a quick nod. “She’s okay. Just a concussion. I want to keep her here overnight for observation and so our nurses can wake her every few hours. They’re moving her to a room now.”

  “That’s it?”

  Sheriff Owens walked through the door, took his cowboy hat off, and nodded at both of them. “Doc. Miller. How’s the patient?”

  The doctor nodded at Owens and then said, “She’s asking to see Miller.”

  Miller started to follow him to Emily’s room, but Owens held him back. “I have a few questions for you.”

  “Did you find Abby?”

  “Well, we’ve been out to Alan’s. Checked out your place too. Now when is it you claim your daughter went missing?”

  “I’m not claiming anything. Alan took her. He broke into my house when I wasn’t home and held Emily and Abby hostage. This was after he kidnapped Jack and beat up Emily.”