Lunatic Revenge (21 page)

“You’re a coward, Michael O’Mara! You’re an unnatural father, putting your only child in danger and then hiding behind this weak excuse for precipitation. What kind of a man does this? As for this stunt you just pulled, it’s nothing. It can’t hurt me. You can’t scare me. But you’re killing your son. Let him go! For the love of God, let him go!”

The vortex stopped as suddenly as it had begun and Michael O’Mara was standing before her, but this time he wasn’t alone. Without speaking, he put Flynn’s hand in hers and disappeared.

Flynn looked at Tara, almost as if she was a stranger.

“It’s me,” Tara said. “It’s Tara. Come with me and I’ll show you the way home.”

“Home?”

“Do you remember home?”

He shook his head.

“Do you remember me?”

He looked like he was going to cry.

Tara’s heart sank. He’d been in here too long. This didn’t bode well for what he’d be like when he woke up—if he woke up.

“It’s okay, Flynn. I’ll remember for you. Come with me. I know the way back.”

“Give me about fifteen minutes and then come and get it,” he said.

Tara waited until she heard him leave the bathroom across the hall and then she got up and went to wash her face and brush her hair. She grabbed a hair band, put her hair back in a ponytail and then returned to her room to dress. Fall of the year was closing in and the mornings were cooler. She dug a pair of house shoes from the back of the closet and slipped them on, then stopped in front of the mirror over her dresser.

She still looked the same—a too-tall girl with long dark hair. She used to fool herself by thinking if she squinted her eyes just right, she almost looked like Angelina Jolie. But she didn’t see that today. All she saw was a girl with a bruised and battered face and an out-of-control life.

Before the tornado, it had seemed as if time was standing still. Being a high school senior was like standing on the edge of a high diving board without being allowed to jump into the pool. They were waiting for the time when they’d be out on their own, finding out what growing up and being an adult was all about. So many devastating things had happened since the storm Tara felt like time had taken wing, and the faster it went, the farther it was taking her from Flynn.

“Breakfast is ready!” Pat yelled.

Tara stuck her tongue out at herself and headed for the kitchen.

But Tara didn’t go back
to bed when her uncle left for work. She put a load of clothes in to wash and then got her iPod and stretched out on the sofa to listen to some tunes. When the washer stopped, she put the load into the dryer and then stopped in the kitchen to get a cold can of Pepsi before going back into the living room.

She glanced at the clock as she sat back down, marking the time so she’d know when to check on the dryer. She was shuffling through her playlist for something upbeat and missed seeing a van pulling up at the curb in front of the house.

Henry popped up at the end of the sofa and started waving his arms and pointing toward the door. Tara took the ear-buds out of her ears and laid the iPod on the coffee table. She was about to go see what had stirred him up when she heard a knock at the door.

Ah. That explained the warning. She peered through the curtain, saw the logo on the side of the van and knew it was from a Tulsa television station. How had they found where she lived?

They knocked again, only louder and longer.

Tara hesitated. She’d told Uncle Pat she’d be fine, but she hadn’t counted on the media running her down.

We’ve got this.

Tara hesitated. “I think I should call someone
 . . .
maybe the police?”

Au contraire, mon cher.

Tara rolled her eyes. Usually, when Millicent began speaking French, weird things happened. She peered through the curtains again, careful not to let the news crew see her, and recognized the woman from late-night news casts. The camera the man was carrying gave away his reason for being there.

Just as they were about to knock again, a huge flock of blackbirds suddenly appeared out of nowhere, flew across the yard, and swooped under the porch roof. Between the cacophony of chirps and squawks, and the random unloading of bird poop, the pair on the porch never had a chance to duck.

The man began swinging the camera and cursing in intermittent bursts and shrieks as he jumped off the porch and made a run for the van.

The woman’s scream was a high octave E Flat as she tore down the steps, waving her arms and pulling birds out of her hair as she went. She jumped into the van and then slammed the door behind her.

Tara watched as the driver took off, laying rubber halfway down the block, with the flock of birds following them, dive-bombing the windshield and the side windows as they sped away. She could only imagine what they must be thinking, but she doubted they would be back.

Confident that her troubles were over, she went back to the sofa.

“Thanks guys,” she said, as she picked up her iPod.

No problemo.

Tara laughed. “So we’ve moved from French to fake Spanish?”

I aim to please. Ta Ta, toots.

Tara was still smiling when she went to get her clean clothes out of the dryer and hang them up.

French Langdon witnessed
the incident from his hiding place across the street. Although he wasn’t sure what he’d seen, he was beginning to believe everything he’d heard about Tara Luna might have been understated. The thing with the birds was straight out of a horror movie. Still, he had his orders to keep an eye on her. She was no good to any of them dead, and all he needed to do was make sure she stayed in one piece.

It was after 12:00 p.m.
before Tara finally sat down to eat, but then the soup was too hot. She was blowing and stirring it, waiting for it to cool when the phone began to ring. When she saw it was from Mona, she panicked and made a quick grab.

“Hello? Mona? Is everything all right?”

“Oh, yes, honey. I’m sorry I scared you. It’s actually good news. The doctor just told me that Flynn is beginning to show signs of coming around.”

Tara was so relieved that she jumped out of the chair and began to pace as she talked.

“Oh! Oh wow, that is great, so great! Is he moving
 . . .
talking
 . . .
anything like that?”

“I don’t think so. Not just yet. But the doctor said his vital signs are changing. His heart rate is getting better and his blood pressure isn’t as low. He said that when they shine a light in his eye, the pupil contracts. These are all positive responses.”

“OMG, I’ve so been hoping this would happen. Thank you so much for letting me know.”

“You had a hand in this, didn’t you?”

“We all did. Is it okay if I come by again this evening to see him?”

“Of course.”

Tara hesitated. She didn’t want to be nosey, but she knew Flynn and his mom lived from paycheck to paycheck like they did.

“Are you okay? I mean
 . . .
are they giving you a hard time at Eskimo Joe’s about coming back to work?”

“No. They’re being wonderful. They even put up donation jars all over Joe’s to help with the hospital bills.”

“You aren’t going to have to pay those bills, Mona. The creep who caused the wreck is gonna be stuck with all that and then some. Talk to Uncle Pat. He can fill you in on what’s been happening.”

“I’ll talk to him this evening while you’re visiting Flynn. So, I’ll see you later then?”

“Yes, definitely, and thank you so much for calling me. This is the best news ever.”

“You’re welcome, honey. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Flynn. I hope you know that.”

Tara was dumbfounded. She stammered something she hoped was appropriate before Mona hung up, and knew she was blushing because her cheeks were hot.

OMG. The best thing? Seriously?

Alert! Alert!

Tara jumped. “Alert on what? What’s happening? Is someone else outside?”

It’s the cops!

Tara glanced at her rapidly cooling soup and then went back to the living room to check the front yard. Sure enough a car was pulling up into the drive, but when she saw who was getting out, she relaxed.

“Ease up, Millicent. It’s our two fave detectives.”

Rutherford is cute.

“No bird attacks, and I’m meeting them on the porch, so no interference. Okay?”

Not unless they overstep their bounds.

Tara rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Millicent. They’re cops. They have the right to overstep bounds and stuff.”

Not with you, they don’t.

“Yes, well, there’s that. Just let me handle this, okay?”

My lips are sealed.

Tara snorted lightly as she headed for the door, unwilling to invite them in. She was still miffed at them for trying to trick her into saying something that would incriminate Flynn in Floy Nettles’ murder.

Tara waited until they were about to come up the steps and then opened the door. Both men stopped in mid-step, obviously surprised by her sudden appearance as she stepped out on the porch, closing the door behind her.

Rutherford noticed it. So she wasn’t inviting them in. He guessed he understood. She’d had one hell of a week, and from what he’d heard about her boyfriend, hell wasn’t over yet.

Detective Allen smiled. He wanted on the good side of this girl so her crazy ghosts wouldn’t screw with them again.

“Hi, Tara. It sure is good to see you up and about.”

Rutherford decided to follow his partner’s lead. “Yeah, kid. You been through hell
 . . .
excuse my language
 . . .
haven’t you?”

Tara folded her arms across her chest and leaned against a porch post. “What’s up?” she said.

“Uh, we had a report that there was a disturbance at your house, and since you’re one of our favorite people, we told the patrol unit that we’d check it out for them. We wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Tara frowned. “Disturbance? What kind of disturbance?”

Rutherford checked his notebook. “Uh, well, the report that came in said a news crew was run off of this property by a flock of birds.”