Authors: Sharon Sala
“No sir.”
“He didn’t say a word?”
Tara sighed. “No. I could tell he was bothered about it, but he tried to pretend he wasn’t. I’m not hiding anything, but I know more about this than Flynn thinks I do.”
Allen took a step forward. “Exactly how do you know—”
Rutherford elbowed him. “Remember who you’re talking to.”
“Oh. Yeah. So, what do you know?” Allen asked.
“I know what Millicent told me.”
Rutherford ran a finger around his shirt collar, as if it had suddenly gotten too tight. This was where writing up a report on their interview with Tara Luna was going to make them look like a pair of dumb asses.
“You
are
referring to your ghost and not a living breathing person who you know?” Rutherford asked, then looked nervous and added. “Uh
. . .
meaning no disrespect or anything, but exactly what do you call someone like her?”
Tara was getting angry, and a little bit hurt. She thought they’d already cleared the air between them with this stuff.
“I call her Millicent. Now, do you care what I know, or are we going around the mulberry bush again and pretend you’re surprised by all this? You both know I see ghosts. We dug up a decades old murder victim out of our backyard so you both know I’m psychic. How many times do I have to prove it before you all get over it?”
“Well, damn it
. . .
excuse my language,” Rutherford said. “We didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but it was a surprise to see you in that tape.”
“It is a bigger surprise to me that the man I saw this morning is now dead. You both need to sit down so you can write your notes.”
They went back to their chairs.
Pat slid a hand across her shoulder. “Are you in any danger, honey?”
“No, of course not, Uncle Pat. We just picked up Flynn and took him to school.” Then she turned her attention to the cops. “Are you ready?”
They nodded.
“So, here’s the scoop, and FYI, Flynn does not know I know this, because we haven’t talked about it, and he doesn’t want to be around me, so I’m guessing he thinks if he keeps his distance, I won’t know. But I digress. According to Millicent, the man who pushed Flynn up against the wall isn’t actually interested in Flynn, other than his connection to someone else. It’s about his father, Michael O’Mara.”
Detective Allen frowned. “But he’s in prison.”
Tara nodded. “And that’s the problem. It has to do with money. Before Michael O Mara went to prison, he was with a gang of bad guys. He hid a bunch of their money and then got sent to prison. The men were waiting for him to get out so they could split it up, I guess. At any rate, they don’t know where it is and now they are running out of time.”
Rutherford had quit writing and was just staring at Tara in disbelief.
She paused. “What?”
He shook his head. “I’m hearing this come out of your mouth, and I still can’t believe it. You just ‘know’ stuff that would take us weeks, maybe months to find out, if even then. I’m sorry, I interrupted. So they don’t know where the money is? What’s the big hurry all of a sudden to find out? I mean, O’Mara’s been in the pen for almost three years now.”
“Because Michael O’Mara is dying of cancer and they probably found out. Now the men are going to try to get to the father through the son before it’s too late.”
“Did you see Flynn at school during the day?”
Tara frowned. “We all went inside at the same time this morning. I saw him at noon on his way to the counselor’s office to discuss some school credit issue, and I did not see him after school, which isn’t unusual on nights he buses tables at Eskimo Joe’s. Why don’t you talk to him?”
“Because he’s gone missing. His mother is in a panic. Claims she has no idea where he’s at, and we have a dead man on our hands with a connection to Flynn.”
Tara jumped to her feet. She was starting to panic, too. He shouldn’t be missing. This wasn’t good. “What time of day was the man murdered?”
“The M.E. says before noon.”
Tara frowned. “And did you talk to Flynn’s teachers to see if he was in all his classes?”
Detective Allen fidgeted with the pen he was holding. “According to the teachers, he answered roll in every class and didn’t ask to be excused in any of them.”
Tara gasped, and when she did, the lights started going on and off in the room and pages started flying out of Detective Allen’s notebook. He was too scared to move. She was so angry her voice was shaking.
“I can’t believe you just did this. You knew all along that Flynn had nothing to do with that man’s murder, and yet everything you said to me earlier was deceptive. You let me talk, then you led me to believe Flynn could be responsible for this dead man and were viewing him as a suspect, when all along you knew he was missing!”
“It’s called interviewing a witness to a crime,” Allen said.
“Well then, you’re both sitting in the wrong house, because I did not witness a crime today, and you both know Flynn didn’t either. Are you looking for Flynn? Is there a missing person’s report out?”
“Well—”
Tara stomped to the door and yanked it open. All the papers that had been flying around the room went shooting out the door. “If I find out anything else that will be of benefit to your case, I will call you.”
Pat stood up. He was as aggravated at them as Tara was, but knew it was wise to err on the side of courtesy.
“Gentlemen, if you’re done, our supper’s getting cold.”
Since Detective Allen had already booked it out the door, Detective Rutherford was trying to maintain his composure. “Right. So, if you hear from Flynn, you’ll let us know?”
Tara’s voice was shaking. “I just told you that people are trying to force Michael O’Mara to give up the hiding place of a bunch of money and use Flynn to do it. Now he’s missing, and you think he’s hiding out? You don’t know Flynn. He would never run off and leave his mother at the mercy of these people. If he’s missing, he’s in trouble. He needs your help.”
Tara burst into tears and ran out of the room.
Rutherford paused at the threshold. “I like your niece, okay? Tell her we’re sorry we upset her.”
“I like her, too, and she’s right. You both knew coming in here that the boy wasn’t a suspect, and yet you let her think it, trying to trick her into saying something that would incriminate one or both of them. If someone has snatched Mona’s son, then find the boy and you’ll find your murderer. I think we’re done here.”
He closed the door in their faces.
Rutherford looked at his partner, who was out in the yard picking up the papers from his notebook, then shook his head and headed for the car.
Inside, Pat went to Tara’s room and found her face down on her bed, sobbing.
“Tara, sweetheart
. . .
”
Tara sat up and threw her arms around her uncle Pat’s neck. “I’m scared, Uncle Pat. Something has happened to Flynn that isn’t good, I can feel it.”
Pat was sick, thinking of how frightened Mona must be. “Do you want to go over to his house after we eat?”
“Yes, oh yes, Uncle Pat. Maybe if I’m there I can pick up on something that might help find him.”
Pat gave her a hug. “That’s my girl. Thinking positive is always the best. Now go wash your face and let’s eat. I’m starved, and the food smells so good I can’t wait to dig in.”
Relieved that they had a plan, Tara washed the tears from her face and followed her uncle into the kitchen. He was already putting food on the table and making their drinks.
“Do you want iced tea?”
She nodded and started to help, but he shooed her toward the table.
“I got this. You cooked. After we eat, I’ll clean up and then we’ll head over to Mona’s.”
Tara ate without tasting the food, anxious to get out of the house. She kept sending mental signals to Millicent and Henry, but they’d made themselves suspiciously absent, which usually meant they knew answers to what she would ask, but weren’t allowed to tell her.
The lights were off when
Pat and Tara arrived at the O’Mara residence. Pat frowned. “Looks like she’s gone.”
Tara closed her eyes and focused. In her mind, she could see Flynn’s mother sitting in a chair in the dark. She looked terrified.
“No, she’s there, and she’s really scared, Uncle Pat.”
“That settles it,” he said. “We’re going in, no matter what. Come on.”
The moment they got up the steps Pat knocked loudly. “Mona, it’s me, Pat. Tara is with me. Let us in.”
Within seconds, the door swung inward. She took one look at them and then burst into tears. Pat hugged her as Tara locked the door and then followed them into the living room. Mona sat down between them and grabbed their hands.
“The police were here. They said Flynn had an argument with a man this morning and now the man is dead. He didn’t come home from school and he hasn’t called,” Mona whispered. “If he’s going to be late, he always calls. What’s happening?”
Pat frowned. “What did the police say to you?”
Mona started crying. “They want to talk to Flynn about the murder. Flynn wouldn’t kill anyone. I don’t understand why this is happening.”
Tara was furious. The police had been as deceptive with Mona as they had with them. “The police already know Flynn didn’t kill that man. They’re just trying to trick us into saying something incriminating.”
Mona blinked. “Us, trick us? Are you involved?”
Tara felt Mona’s emotions shift to a need to blame her for what was happening, but she couldn’t be farther from the truth.
“Only to the extent of seeing some man pin Flynn against the wall of a convenience store this morning. Because of the rain, Nikki Scott was giving me a ride to school. We saw Flynn and stopped to pick him up, too. When we honked to get his attention, the man who was talking to him ran away. We gave Flynn a ride, but he wouldn’t talk to me about anything.”
Mona moaned.
Pat squeezed her hand. “There’s more, Mona, and you’re going to have to be strong.”
Mona looked at Tara in horror. “You know something? Oh my God, is he dead? Is Flynn dead?”
Tara didn’t know how to answer without making it worse. “I haven’t been able to get a connection to him, but I know something about why the man was bothering Flynn. I’m sorry, but it has to do with Flynn’s father.”
Mona groaned. “What is it? Tell me.”
“There are some men who were associated with your ex-husband. He hid a bunch of their money, then got arrested and sent to prison. They don’t know where he hid it, and were willing to wait until he got out, but then they somehow found out about the cancer. They are afraid he’ll die without revealing the location and they’re trying to get to Michael through Flynn.”
Mona’s panic turned quickly to anger. “Even in prison he’s still ruining our lives.”
Pat took her hand. “Mona, listen to me. I’ve been thinking about this ever since Tara told us what was going on. I don’t know where Flynn is, but I’d lay big odds that they’re taking good care of him. If they want Michael’s cooperation, they will have to assure him that Flynn has come to no harm.”
She shivered. “Yes, yes, that makes sense. I pray that you’re right, because if anything ever happened to Flynn, I would die. He’s all I have.”
Mona’s despair was swamping Tara’s ability to focus. She needed to put some distance between them if she had a chance of making a connection with Flynn.
“Uh, Mrs. O’Mara, you know a little bit about how things work with me, right?”
“I guess so, but why?”
“May I go into Flynn’s room? Maybe if I touch some of his things I can get a connection with him.”
“Down the hall, last door on your left. Go, go, do whatever you do. Find my boy, Tara. Please.”
“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”
Tara got up quickly and left her uncle and Mona talking quietly on the sofa. Tara’s hands were sweating and her stomach was in knots. She had never wanted her skills to work as much as she did right now.
The moment she walked into Flynn’s room she felt sad and afraid. They were his emotions, not hers, and it made her even more anxious to find his location before something else happened.
Her voice was shaking as she moved to the dresser. “Millicent. Henry. Where are you guys? Why aren’t you helping me here?”
He’s alive.
Tara was so relieved that she started to cry. Tears were rolling down her face as she pushed his hairbrush aside to get some tissues, and the moment she touched the brush, she was in his head, hearing his voice, feeling his pain and his fear.
These ropes are too tight. I can’t feel my hands. I can’t believe this is happening. I need to get word to Mom. These guys are total screw-ups and they’ll come after her next. It’s all Dad’s fault. If he hadn’t gotten mixed up with them, none of this would be happening.