Secondhand Sinners

by Genevieve Lynne

  She stood, washed her mouth with some Scope she found in the medicine cabinet, and stared at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t leave Jack. Alan would have to kill her to get her away from her son. How was she going to get away from Alan? How was she going to find Jack?

  She opened her makeup bag to pull some foundation out when her hand hit on something skinny and round. Jack’s B12 shots. She’d put the shots in her makeup bag to keep them from getting lost in her suitcase and forgot to put them in Levi’s refrigerator when she got to town. If she did it fast and did it right, she could make Alan think it was a syringe of bleach.

  Perfect.

  She pulled it out, uncapped it, and positioned it in her hand with her thumb on the plunger. She took a deep breath and put her hand behind her back, ready to walk out of the bathroom with a new resolve. She wasn’t just going to get Alan to tell her where Jack and Abby were, she was going to make him pay. Or she was going to die trying.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-ONE

  Miller

  Miller pulled up to the house of the address Jenny Abernathy had given him. Except it wasn’t really a house. It was a trailer. He’d taken forever to get there because he couldn’t find Lilac Street. Had he known Lilac Street was one of the many gravel roads made up by the owners of the trailer park, he wouldn’t have verbally abused the GPS on his phone for not knowing where the hell it was. Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure if anyone even lived in the rusted metal building with the sagging middle, which was at the end of the row of more rusted metal buildings.

  His phone vibrated, altering him to a text message with Jenny’s address. Miller shoved his phone back into his pocket. Too little, too late, Capricorn.

  He got out of his truck and knocked on the door. There was no answer.

  He checked the door. The knob gave a little resistance so it might have been locked, but it was so old it didn’t take much to turn. While there wasn’t a single light on in the place, the setting sun was at exactly the right angle to fill the room with a soft light. He resisted the urge to call out for Abby because he had no idea who was there, if anyone, or what he was walking into. The room looked like something he’d imagined once when he was reading a true crime novel about a woman who disappeared from her home. Neighbors knew something was wrong because her house was a wreck. Signs of a struggle. That’s what they called it in the book, and that’s what this room looked like. Only he wasn’t Jenny Abernathy’s neighbor, so he had no idea if this was normal or not.

  From the outside, it looked like the trailer couldn’t have more than one bedroom. The only thing Miller knew to do was go through that closed door on his left and see for himself. There was no knob on the door, so he pushed it ajar and stuck his head in. “Hello?” he asked softly. “Is anyone there?”

  There was no answer.

  “Hello?” He opened the door farther and stepped inside the room, which was dark with only a few slivers of light coming through the curtains. After his eyes adjusted, he could see the outline of what may have been a person in the corner. “Is anyone here?”

  He found the light switch on the wall and flipped it on. There was no one in the room. The sight of all the used needles, bongs, and empty coke bags sickened him. Had they kept Abby in here? Did they do drugs in front of her? He took out his phone and snapped a picture of the room. Owens might like to get a look at the drug den of Alan’s girlfriend.

  After checking the rest of the trailer, including the tiniest, most disgusting bathroom he’d ever seen, he stepped out of the crumbling metal house completely deflated. Where was his daughter? He walked around the sad excuse for a building, and stared out into prairie, which ended at a thicket of trees.

  His eyes hit on a bump in the ground, the telltale sign of a storm cellar. Of course there was a storm cellar. With all the tornados, most everyone in Oklahoma had one or knew someone who had one. In a trailer park, it was an absolute necessity.

  He jogged over to it, lifted up the aluminum door, and stepped down into its darkness. “Hello?” he called out when he was halfway down the steps. “Is anyone down here?”

  Though there was no response, he could swear a shape in the corner shifted.

  He didn’t want to call Abby’s name. He actually hoped it wasn’t her because if it was her, why was she hiding in the dark corner of the dark cellar? And why wouldn’t she answer him? He steeled his resolve, swallowed hard and asked, “Anyone in here?”

  The only response was the slow dragging sound of metal sliding against metal, which ended with a distinctive click. Someone had cocked a gun. He didn’t have to see it to know it was aimed at him. Instinctively, his hands went up in front of him to reason with the unseen threat.

  “Get out of here, or I’ll blow your head off,” a female voice said.

  “I’m sorry,” Miller said. “I must be in the wrong place. I was looking for my daughter, Abby.”

  “Daddy?” Abby’s voice came from somewhere in the dark. “Daddy is that you?”

  “Abigail?” Miller’s heart wanted to feel the relief his brain was telling him was okay to feel. He needed to see his daughter. “I can’t see you. Where are you?”

  A light in corner with the shape flicked on, revealing Jenny Abernathy with red-rimmed eyes and smudged makeup holding a flashlight. She swung the beam of light into another corner where Abby was standing, sporting that same hopeful smile she wore when she was three and asked to ride the automated horse outside the Piggly Wiggly.

  “Oh, Abby.”

  There she was, and she might as well have been three years old again because he was not going to let her out of his sight for the foreseeable future. He rushed down the stairs, wrapped her up in his arms, and relished in the relief his heart had been longing for since Alan answered her cell phone. Miller could feel her relief too as she buried her head in his chest and cried.

  “Are you okay?” He tried to hold her away from him so he could look at her, but she wouldn’t let go of the death grip she had around his waist. He held her tighter and leaned down to whisper, “Are you okay?”

  She nodded and looked up at him. “I didn’t think you’d find me. How did you find me?”

  He kissed her forehead and tried to smile. “I’ll always find you.”

  Miller glared at Jenny. “I’m taking my daughter home with me.”

  Jenny handed him the flashlight. “Go.”

  That was too easy. “Just like that? What’s Alan going to say?”

  “There was no money.”

  “I heard.”

  “Alan said he figured out a way to get something better, then when he terrorized that poor lady, I—”

  “Wait. Are you talking about Emily?”

  “Yeah. That’s her name.”

  “She’s in the hospital.”

  “Not anymore. He went and got her after he dropped your daughter off with me. He said he was going to get money from her, but he took her to the home and made her shoot that old man.”

  “What old man?”

  “Hoyt. He made her think I’d kill her son if she didn’t shoot him.”

  “Where is Jack?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t want to tell me, wanted it to be his secret.”

  “I have to go.”

  “That’s probably best. Alan’s coming. He’s going to kill me for letting your daughter go. You don’t wanna get hurt too.”

  “He’s not coming.” Miller shrugged her off. “That was me, using his Facebook to get your address.”

  “Good.” She let out a sigh of relief. “I have time to pack up and get out of here.”

  “No,” Miller said, pulling out his cell phone to show her the picture of her trailer he had taken. “You go to the police and tell them about Alan’s plan. Tell them everything, or I’m going to show this to Sheriff Owens.”

  “Alan will kill me.”

  “You tell them everything or I’ll hunt you down myself and have you arrested for kidnapping.” Then he led Abby up the
stairs and to his truck. When he tried to buckle her into the passenger seat, she scooted to the middle.

  “Can I sit next to you?”

  “I’d love that.”

  After he got himself buckled in, she laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. “So you haven’t found Jack yet?”

  “No.”

  “He must be so scared. Is Emily okay?”

  “That’s a good question.” He called the hospital and asked a nurse to have someone check on Emily. When the nurse came back and told him Emily and the new policeman on duty were gone, Miller told her to call the police.

  Alan had come back for her and taken her, and whatever he had done to her must have been pretty bad.

  The five miles back to Bokchito stretched in front of him like some kind of cruel joke. His daughter was safe, though neither of them would be happy until they found Jack and got Emily away from Alan. When he left her in the hospital, he knew his accusations about sleeping with Alan had hurt her. After he found the blue notebook and Alan’s stash of yellow pads, all he wanted to do was apologize. Had he known Alan was so hell-bent on taking control of her, he wouldn’t have been so self-righteous.

  Abby wrapped her arms around Miller’s and asked, “Are we going to find Emily?”

  “No. We’re going to find Jack.”

  “It sounds like Emily’s really in danger.”

  “I know.” It was going to be one of the hardest things he’d ever have to do, but he had to find Jack. It was what Emily wanted. He knew that because that was exactly what he would want. Emily had asked him to find her son, and he’d failed. He’d failed her all day long. No, he’d failed her for the last fourteen years.

  He tightened his grip on the wheel. “Hey, Abs?”

  “Yeah, Daddy?”

  “I need to tell you something. It’s very important. Emily and I were seeing each other in high school.”

  “I knew it.”

  “I loved her. A lot.”

  “You still do.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. When I told you that story about her running away, I left something out. She was pregnant with my baby.”

  Abby sat up.

  Miller looked at her, curious to see the look on her face.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Go Dad.”

  “She wanted to put you up for adoption, so without her knowing, her grandfather offered you to me. When you were diagnosed with Wilson’s, I assumed you weren’t mine. I guess I could’ve had a DNA test done. I didn’t see the need to, though, since you were diagnosed with a disease no one in my family had. Well, I found out today, that…I mean it’s not official or anything, but I’m pretty sure you got your Wilson’s from Emily.”

  Abby was quiet. Miller waited. He wanted to give her time to process what he’d told. After a few minutes passed without her saying anything, though, he couldn’t wait any longer. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

  “You had sex before you were married.”

  “That’s what you got from all that?”

  He could hear the smile in her voice when she said. “Emily’s my mom.”

  “Yeah. That’s right.”

  “And you’re my dad.”

  “Yes.”

  “So Jack is my half-brother.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “If the two of you were in love, why’d she run away?”

  “Her family didn’t want her to have you. She ran to protect you.”

  “Can you go a little faster? We need to save our family.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-TWO

  Emily

  When Emily opened the door to leave the bathroom, she nearly walked into Alan. She was so aware of the syringe that was in her hand behind her back that she knew she stiffened her arm too much. Alan’s gaze didn’t drift from her face, so she hoped he didn’t notice.

  When all he said was, “You didn’t cover up your eye,” she was sure he didn’t suspect her plan to take control of the situation.

  “I don’t have any foundation in that bag,” she lied, trying to carefully slide the syringe into her back pocket. There was no way she could get it in without engaging the plunger and squirting B12 all over her backside. If there was nothing in that syringe, she wouldn’t be able to make him think it was full of bleach.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Really. When we get to Dallas I’ll get some.”

  “Then you won’t have a problem if I check.” He tried to step into the bathroom.

  She blocked him. “Why would I lie about something so stupid?”

  “I don’t know.” Alan eyed her. “Might have something to do with whatever it is you’ve got behind your back.”

  “I don’t have anything behind my back.”

  “Lemme see your hands. Both of them.”

  Emily’s mind started to race. “What? Why?”

  “Because I said so.”

  She’d hoped to be able to come at Alan from behind and catch him off guard. She was going to have to do this now, when he was on full alert. But how? How did she give Jack his shot? She distracted him. That was what she’d have to do to Alan. Thinking of Jack steeled her nerves. Thinking of Jack all alone steeled her resolve. She counted to three and with one quick motion, balled her free hand into a fist and brought it out from behind her back, lunging it at Alan’s chest.

  He caught her wrist. “That was a dumb thing to do, Emily.”

  “You can’t blame me for trying, can you?”

  “What do you have in this little hand of yours? Another tiny perfume bottle?”

  “Guess.”

  “Open your fist.”

  “Make me.”

  “Haven’t you learned anything?” Alan chided. “You need to start obeying me. If you make me pry your hand open, you will regret it.”

  “I don’t think you can do it.”

  “Please,” he scoffed. He grabbed her fist with his other hand and started to pry it open.

  Emily was no match for his strength, especially in her weakened state and with her constant headache. With both his hands and his attention drawn to her other hand, this was her only chance. It had to be now, and it had to be quick. She put her thumb back on the plunger and jammed the syringe into his neck.

  “Holy shit!” Alan let go of her fist and touched the syringe that was inserted into his neck. “What the hell is that?”

  “Bleach,” she lied. “Move your hand or I’ll inject it into you.”

  He obeyed her. “Where the fuck did you get that?”

  “The hospital,” she lied again. “This is how all we Collins ladies deal with things we hate. If you move a single muscle without my permission, I will kill you with this. Understand?”

  Alan nodded.

  “Oh, Alan,” Emily pushed the needle harder into his neck. “I told you not to move a muscle without my permission. Do you understand?”

  He didn’t say anything, didn’t move anything.

  “That’s better. Now, let’s go to your bedroom. Slowly.” Emily pushed him along as he walked backward until the back of his legs hit the bed. “Now sit down.”

  He sat down next to his police belt.

  “Get your handcuffs, slide back on the bed, and cuff yourself to the bedpost.”

  He moved slowly, doing as he was told.

  She climbed on top of him, straddling him with her knee pinning his free arm to his side. “Now tell me where Jack is.”

  “He’s in the loft of the barn with the crime scene tape. He’s fine. I swear.”

  “How can you possibly know that?”

  “I drugged him with Benadryl. Twice.”

  “You drugged my son?” She slapped him. “Twice?” She slapped him again. “Did you drug Abby too?”

  “No.”

  “Where is she?”

  “With Jenny Abernathy.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “In the trailer park in Blue. Lilac Street.”

  “Where d
id you get those drugs you planted on me?”

  “I bought ‘em from a dealer in Blue. Jenny knows him.”

  “Where’s my phone?”

  “In the glove box of my car.”

  “Personal or police?”

  “Personal.”

  “Where are the keys?”

  “Kitchen. First drawer to the right of the sink.”

  “Good,” she said, then plunged the B12 into Alan’s neck, pulled it out, and showed him the empty syringe.

  “You bitch!” He tried to get free, but the more he moved, the harder she dug her knees into his sides.

  “The more you struggle, the faster the bleach will get into your bloodstream.”

  “You just killed me.”

  “I didn’t kill you. My mom did. Haven’t you heard she’s on some kind murdering spree?”

  “You’ll never get away with this.”

  “Oh Alan.” She leaned down over him until her face was so close to his, her hair was touching his cheeks and whispered, “I already have.”

  ***

  Emily took a few deep breaths while she waited for her phone to come on. Relief was starting to creep in. She’d call Miller and tell him where Abby was on her way to Levi’s barn to get Jack. They’d deal with the whole drug problem later; that was the least of her worries. She started Alan’s car and was about to put it in drive when her phone lit up with her missed calls alert. Her mom had called her seventeen times and left as many messages. She listened to the first message.

  Hello, Emily. Today’s a big day. I’ve already got your room ready, so don’t be late.

  The next message was more chilling because of the sing-song voice her mother used.

  Emily? Emily? I went to get Mother so she could be there for your cleansing too. You know how it always made her happy to know you were pure again. Then I remembered that Mother was dirty too. So I had to clean her. We’re all going to be clean soon, sweetheart. Please come home.

  She didn’t have the time it would take to listen to the other fifteen messages. After she got Jack and Abby back, she’d deal with her mother. What could she do? If she went anywhere near her mother, she’d try to stick her with a syringe full of bleach. The only smart thing to do would be to call Sheriff Owens. Smart for her. Was it the best thing to do for her mom? She couldn’t think about that. She needed to concentrate on finding Jack.