by Sharon Sala
“I can’t believe I’m doing this. Nobody at the university better find about it,” Nate said. “By the way, my aunt is probably the only woman in the state who’s ever been overjoyed to find out her son is in the pen. Er, um . . . thanks.”
“Glad to help. And I appreciate your help, too,” Tara said.
The process for mapping with a GPR was simple, really. Nate just wheeled it over the surface, in a pattern not unlike the paths one would make mowing a yard, while the radar read what lay below. With the laptop hooked up to it was possible to see the readouts as they occurred, rather than having to wait and look at print-outs later.
“What’s that?” Tara asked, watching the computer screen over Nate’s shoulder as they made pass after pass across the yard.
“It’s not a grave, and that’s all you need to know,” Nate muttered.
Suddenly, DeeDee appeared at Tara’s side. Tara felt her sadness all over again.
“We’re trying,” she said. “Just give us time.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Nate asked.
“Oh. I wasn’t talking to you.”
Nate paused. “Then who? If you hadn’t noticed, we’re alone out here. Do you talk to yourself often?”
“No, I do not talk to myself,” Tara said, but to her regret, Nate wouldn’t let it go.
“Then that begs the question, who are you talking to?”
“DeeDee. The ghost of the body you’re looking for. She’s here.”
Nate’s eyes widened as he glanced nervously around the yard. “I’m sorry I asked,” he said, and resumed his sweep.
Tara sighed. All she’d done was give him even less reason to trust her, but it wasn’t in her to lie just to assure Nate’s comfort. Not after what she’d done in his office the day before.
A few moments later, someone else appeared in the yard, but it wasn’t a ghost. It was Flynn, and when she looked up and saw him standing near the gate with a suspicious, almost angry look on his face, she figured she had some explaining to do.
“Hey!” she called, and waved him over. To her relief, he only hesitated briefly, before walking toward them. “It’s my boyfriend,” Tara said.
“God help him,” Nate muttered.
Tara frowned. “That wasn’t particularly nice.”
“I’m not running for office.”
“Really,” Tara huffed and hurried to meet Flynn. “Hey.” She threaded her fingers through his.
“Hey yourself,” Flynn said, and then pointed at the professor. “Who’s he and what’s he doing?”
“That’s Professor Pierce from the OSU Geology department.”
“Okay, but what’s he doing?” Flynn repeated.
“That’s a little tricky.”
“I have time,” Flynn said, eyeing the tall, brown-skinned, broad-shouldered male in his girlfriend’s backyard.
“He’s using Ground Penetrating Radar, alias GPR, to help me find a body.”
Flynn took a step backward. “Shut. Up.”
Tara nodded. “I know. It sounds a little weird.”
“You think?” Flynn watched the man make a sweep across the length of the yard. “Exactly whose body are you looking for, and why am I just hearing about this?”
Tara frowned. “Don’t get all macho on me, mister. I don’t tell you all my business just like you don’t tell me yours. You don’t hear me asking you where and what you’re doing when I’m not around.”
Flynn looked embarrassed, but he stood his ground. “That’s because you probably already know, being psychic and all.”
Tara rolled her eyes. “OMG. Like all I have to do is worry about what you’re doing when I have ghosts popping up around me on a daily basis? Get real! I haven’t even told Uncle Pat, and he’s higher up on my list of people I need to please than you are.”
Flynn watched her carefully.
“We’ve already had one break-up over my psychic stuff. I’d really rather not have another one,” she said.
“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. Can we start this conversation over?”
Tara fixed him with a steady gaze. “You can try.”
Flynn took a deep breath and started over. “So, how do you know there’s a body buried in your backyard?” Then he swiped a hand over his face. “I can’t believe I just asked that question.”
Tara touched his arm. “I realize my life is a bit strange for the uninitiated, but I am who I am. So, here’s the deal. There was a ghost in the house when we moved here. Without going into details about how I found out, I’ll just tell you the high points. Her name is DeeDee Broyles. She and her family lived in this house. After her parents died, she and her brother, Emmit became joint owners. Only here’s the rub. One day she was here and then she wasn’t. Brother Emmit never reported her missing, and all of a sudden he was the sole owner of the property. And since no one knew she was missing, no one knew to look for her. Her body is buried somewhere in this yard. She doesn’t know who killed her, or exactly where she’s buried, because it was so long ago that the yard and everything around it has changed. She only has a frame of reference for how it used to look. Understand?”
“Hell, no,” Flynn said.
Nate Pierce swept past where they were standing with the GPR. “Welcome to my world,” he said, then held out his hand. “I want to shake the hand of the guy with the guts to take this female on. I’m Nate Pierce. Assistant professor of geology at the university, and the loser of a bet between me and the witch doctor, thus the reason I am here.”
Flynn grinned and all the bluster drained out of him in the face of the older man’s irritation. “Flynn O’Mara. Nice to meet you.”
“See. It’s no big deal.” Tara kissed the side of Flynn’s cheek.
“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” Flynn asked.
“I never had anyone get jealous before. It’s kind of a rush.”
He grinned. “You are so crazy.”
Before Tara could answer, Henry popped up in front of her and started waving his hands.
“Millicent?” she said, thinking of the earlier bubble disaster. Then she realized Nate had stopped. “OMG . . . did he—”
Henry pointed to his nose, as if he was playing charades and she’d guessed the clue, then disappeared.
“He found something.” Tara started running.
Nate had squatted down closer to the radar and was staring at the computer screen.
“What? What? Did you find it?”
Nate shook his head. “The first hint of disturbance was visible on the previous two sweeps over this area, but I kept thinking it wouldn’t pan out. But it showed up on the third sweep, too. The disturbance of soil is the right depth down for a grave. It’s the right size. I can’t believe this.”
“Is it a grave?”
“I don’t know what it is. But it’s the right size and depth for a possible grave.”
“Can you print that out for me?”
He nodded. “Oh yeah.”
“Cool.” Tara looked up to find DeeDee hovering nearby again. “Hang in there, honey,” she said. “We’re closing in.”
“I’m sorry? What did you say?” Nate asked.
“I don’t think she was talking to us,” Flynn offered.
“Oh. Right.” Nate stood abruptly and stared at Tara as if he was the one seeing ghosts. “You are something,” he said. “I wish my Grandma Littlebird was still alive. She would be fascinated with you. In a good way, of course.”
“Whatever.” Tara pointed at the screen. “Is that it, DeeDee? Can you tell?”
The little ghost hovered over the area, then disappeared. Tara didn’t know what that meant, and DeeDee obviously wasn’t talking.
“Okay. I’ve got a phone call to make,” she said.
“W
ho to,” Flynn asked.
“The police, of course. They have to find a body before they can begin an investigation, and I promised DeeDee justice. She’s never crossed over because of all this.”
“Sorry I asked,” Flynn mumbled.
Nate Pierce chuckled.
Tara glared at both of them. “Don’t anybody leave. I might need a little backup from the professor before this is over.”
Nate started to argue, then subsided. “Got any more of those cookies?”
Tara nodded as she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, and pointed to Flynn. “Flynn, would you escort Nate into the kitchen? The cookies are on the cabinet in the cookie jar. Cold pop is in the fridge.” She glanced at her watch. “Uncle Pat is due home any time. I am going to be explaining this a thousand times.”
“Follow me,” Flynn said to Nate.
Nate left with Flynn, leaving Tara alone to make her call.
Tara didn’t know the number to the police station, so she had to go through information, which only made her more jittery when she finally connected.
“Stillwater Police Department,” a man answered.
“I need to speak with Detective Rutherford of the Homicide Division, please.”
“One minute,” he said. A few seconds passed, then Tara heard Rutherford’s voice.
“This is Rutherford.”
“Detective Rutherford, this is Tara Luna, the girl who found Bethany Fanning. Remember?”
“I’m not likely to forget you,” he said. “How can I help you? Oh wait. Let me guess. Since you’ve called Homicide, you must have found yourself a body, right?”
Tara gasped. “Oh wow!! How did you know? Are you psychic, too?”
There was a long, uneasy silence. For a few moments, Tara thought he’d hung up. “Detective! Hello? Are you there?”
“What the hell, excuse my language, do you mean?”
“There’s a body buried in the backyard of the house where we live.”
“And you know this because . . .”
“You don’t want to know,” she said. “But I have proof.”
“Like what? A map?”
Tara frowned. “You are psychic, aren’t you?”
“You have a map?”
“In a manner of speaking. Are you going to come out or not?”
“Right now? You expect me to believe all this crap, excuse my language, and show up at your house with a shovel or what?”
Tara resented the sarcasm and fired back with some of her own. “I expect you to investigate my claim, see the evidence, and hear what I have to say. We are tax-paying citizens of Stillwater, and I have just called you to report a crime. I expect you to respond to my cry for help. And if you’re the one who does the digging in cases like this, then hell, yes, excuse my language, bring the shovel.”
She didn’t know Rutherford was grinning. All she heard was a sigh that sounded a little like submission.
He’s going to come. He likes you. He just doesn’t want you to know it.
Thank you, Millicent. That’s something I needed to hear.
Finally, my information is being appreciated.
“Give me your address,” Rutherford said.
Tara rattled off her address, then added. “If you don’t mind, would you please hurry. I would like it if you were already here by the time Uncle Pat gets home from work. He doesn’t know about the body in the back yard, and I may need some backup. It’s been a long time since I got a spanking, but he might just reconsider after this bit of news.”
“Hang tough, Xena. I’ll be there shortly.”
Tara grinned. Calling her Xena was kind of cool. She pocketed her cell just as Flynn and Nate came back outside. Within seconds, Uncle Pat came out behind them.
Run while you still have the chance.
Shut up, Millicent. I do not run away from Uncle Pat.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Tara gulped. It wasn’t often Millicent offered sympathy. Tara decided that a friendly offense was better than a whiny defense.
“Hi, Uncle Pat. Just in time.”
“I’d like to ask, in time for what, but something tells me I’m not going to like the answer,” he said.
Tara threw her arms around him and gave him a big hug. “Don’t be mad. It’s all good, and if everything works out like I think, then DeeDee, the ghost living in our house, will finally cross over.”
Uncle Pat’s eyebrows shot upward as his mouth slid open.
Tara decided now was the time for some formal introductions. “Uncle Pat, have you met Professor Pierce? He’s from the university. This is his GPR we’re using. Nate, this is my uncle, Pat Carmichael.”
Nate shook Uncle Pat’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir,” he said. “Even under these circumstances. Being responsible for a kid like Tara must be a challenge.”
Pat managed a nod before focusing his attention back to Tara.
“I’ll get you a drink, Tara.” Flynn took one look at the expression on Pat’s face and retreated back into the house.
“What, exactly, needs to take place here in our backyard so that this DeeDee can do her thing?” Pat asked.
“Here’s the deal, Uncle Pat. DeeDee was murdered. She doesn’t know for sure who killed her, but she knows she’s buried out here somewhere.”
Pat’s mouth dropped. “In our backyard?”
Tara nodded. “Yep. Actually, her family once owned this house. She grew up here. I’m pretty sure her brother Emmit is the one who killed her because when I went to see him to ask about DeeDee, he claimed he didn’t have a sister.”
Nate gasped and stared at Tara as if she’d suddenly grown horns.
Pat blinked at her then sputtered, “You went to see a man you suspect murdered his sister by yourself?”
Flynn walked up with two cold drinks and handed one to Tara. Thinking he’d make a joke, he piped up with a “What did I miss?”
“Tara!” Pat yelled. “What in holy hell made you think it was okay to do that?”
Tara frowned. “Cursing does not become you.”
His face turned a dark, angry red. “Do not get all prissy with me, here, Missy. Just because your legs got longer doesn’t mean I’m no longer the boss in this family.”
Tara handed the pop can back to Flynn, threw up her hands, then put her hands on her hips in a gesture of defiance as she took a step forward and yelled back.
“Well, if you hadn’t been so unwilling to accept what I’ve been telling you about myself my entire life, I might have discussed the situation with you beforehand. But no. You wouldn’t ever let me talk about what I saw, let alone help me understand it. So explain to me exactly why I should suddenly decide to bring you in on what is business as usual for me while you constantly reject that part of who I am?”
Tara saw the impact her words had on her uncle in his stark expression. She’d seen the exact same look on his face lots of times—just before he reached for a bottle of booze. Then he seemed to shake it off. She couldn’t do the same now that the problem was on the table.
Uncle Pat started to hug her, but she threw up her hands and took an angry step back.
“Okay. You’re right,” Pat said. “I haven’t exactly been willing to accept that you were just like Mom and Shirley.”
“And you didn’t even tell me they had the same gifts until you were forced to,” Tara muttered.
“You mean there are more like her?” Nate asked.
Pat shook his head. “Not anymore. But all the women in my mother’s family for as far back as anyone can remember were like Tara. They just . . . they just . . . knew stuff, okay? Shirley was my sister and Tara’s mother. She died before Tara was one. I guess I thought if nothing was ever acknowledged, it might go away.”
<
br /> “Well, it didn’t,” Tara said firmly, then looked toward the back gate. “Oh, good. There’s Detective Rutherford.”
Pat gawked. “You called the police?”
Tara rolled her eyes. “How else is DeeDee going to get justice? Someone has to find her body, begin an investigation, and find her murderer before she can cross over. Dang . . . does anybody ever listen to me?” She stomped off toward the back gate to meet the detective.
When she flipped a glance back over her shoulder, Uncle Pat looked thoughtful, Nate looked about half impressed, and Flynn looked like he should have had hearts in his eyes like cartoon characters did when they fell in love.
Chapter Six
Only slightly mollified, Tara Luna scowled at Detective Rutherford instead of greeting him.
“Looks like the party started without me,” Rutherford said.
Tara rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me started.” Then she switched emotions before he got the wrong idea. “Thanks for coming so quickly. The grave we found is over here.”
“Wait!” Rutherford said.
“You can talk over there as easily as you can here, so if you’re going to argue, you’ll have to follow me.”
Rutherford sighed, but appeared willing to let Tara call the shots, probably on the assumption that the quicker he heard her out, the quicker it would be over. Whatever. Once he saw what Nate had found, he’d understand.
As soon as Uncle Pat, Flynn, and Nate reached them Tara began introductions. “Guys, remember Detective Rutherford of the Stillwater Police? We met when Flynn, Davis and I found Bethany Fanning. Detective, you remember Uncle Pat and Flynn. But the man who keeps frowning at me is Professor Nate Pierce from OSU’s geology department. He helped me find the location of the body.”
Nate looked dumbfounded all over again. “Hey kid, are you talking about that high school girl who was kidnaped? You found her?”
“I am not a kid and yes, we did,” she said.
“No, Tara. You found her,” Flynn said. “And if we’d been five minutes later, her body would have been in Boomer Lake.”
“No way,” Nate said, eyeing Tara with newfound respect.
But Nate wasn’t the only one surprised. Rutherford’s ears pricked up when he realized there was a bonafide professor in on this.
