by Sharon Sala
“When I hit the brakes, you get out and shoot her with this. I’ll grab her, toss her on the floorboard, and we’re out of here.”
“What if someone sees us?”
“Look around. It’s cold. Drapes are drawn across windows. That football game is starting that everyone has been talking about. No one will be looking out a window.”
“Oh, man,” Vince muttered, and grabbed the Taser. He knew how to use it, but he’d never used it on a person before.
Marsh gunned the engine. Vince’s hand was on the door handle. They were less than a dozen feet behind her when Marsh hit the brakes. Vince jumped out on the run just as Tara spun. He caught a glimpse of a pretty girl with a very frightened expression on her face. As she turned to run, he pulled the trigger.
TARA SAW THE old black pickup as it passed her, but thought nothing of it. When her cell phone rang, and she saw it was Flynn, the pickup was quickly forgotten.
“Hey, Flynn.”
“Hey, honey, I meant to call before kickoff, and now it’s about to happen. I knew you’d be glued to the set so I thought I’d better talk fast.”
She laughed. “I’m not even home. I got sick of being in the house and went for a walk. I’m already on the way home though. I have to hurry, or Uncle Pat will eat all the good stuff I made.”
Flynn’s chuckle rolled through her like warm water on snow, melting her from the inside out.
“Are you having a good time at your aunt and uncle’s house?” she asked.
“Yeah, but more important, so’s Mom. She’s had a hard time dealing with all that’s happened. You know how parents are—they’re either on a guilt trip, or laying one on you.” Then the moment he said it, he sighed. “My bad. You don’t know that, do you, Moon Girl?”
“I have a parent. Although he’s my uncle, it doesn’t change the parent aspect, and I get it. Don’t go apologizing for—”
Millicent’s voice was suddenly screaming in her ear. Run, Tara run!
She heard tires screeching on the street behind her and spun around, thinking someone was about to have a wreck. Instead, she saw a man jump out of the same black truck that had just passed her a few moments earlier, and he was running toward her. Her heart dropped. It was happening!
“Help! Flynn! It’s happening,” she screamed, and turned to run, felt a sharp pain in the back of her thigh and dropped into the snow, unable to move or talk, shaking convulsively from the Taser’s electrodes.
Flynn heard the tires, her cry for help and the warning, then nothing. She was being abducted! Why wasn’t she running? Why was she suddenly silent? Why wasn’t he picking up on her thoughts anymore? God in heaven, what had they done to her?
His heart was hammering so hard against his chest that he thought he’d pass out, but he knew exactly what was happening. Her nightmare was coming true, and he was too far away to help.
He was about to hang up and call Pat and the police when he realized he could hear men’s voices. She must have dropped her phone, and the line was still open. He held his breath, listening intently to everything they were saying, praying he would hear a name or recognize a voice.
“GRAB HER!” Marsh said.
“I downed her. You’re the big shot. You grab her.”
“Damn it, Vince, at least get her feet. We don’t have all day here.”
Vince yanked the electrodes out of her leg, pocketed the Taser, and did as he was told. But the moment they put their hands on her, they were enveloped in a swirling wind of cold and snow. It blistered their skin and eyeballs so fast they nearly dropped her.
“What’s happening? What the hell’s happening?” Marsh yelled.
“Stop talking! Hurry up and open the damn door,” Vince shouted, squinting against the blast of ice crystals slicing his face.
Within seconds they had her in the truck, took off with a screech of tires, took a right at the next block, and disappeared down an alley.
It took exactly fifteen seconds—a far easier snatch than they could ever have imagined. By the time they cleared the city limits without a cop car in sight, they were laughing hysterically.
“We’re half-way to more money than we’ve ever had before,” Marsh said. “The rest is up to her.”
FLYNN LISTENED until he heard car doors slamming and the sounds of an engine disappearing, and then he was running, yelling at his mom as he went.
Mona came running from the kitchen. “Flynn! What on earth?”
“Tara has been kidnapped. Call Pat. I’m calling the police.”
Mona gasped. “How do you know this?”
“I was talking to her when it happened! I heard her scream once and then nothing. I heard them talking after they grabbed her. Hurry! Tell him the police will be at his house soon, and that I know why it happened. Tell him we’re on our way home.”
“Oh, dear God!” Mona cried.
Ignoring the shocked looks on her family’s faces, she ran for her cell phone as Flynn stepped outside to make the call to the police.
Unlike Tara, he did not have the Stillwater Police Department on speed dial and took a few moments to pull up the info. As soon as he got the number, he made the call and waited for it to be answered.
“Stillwater Police Department.”
He was talking fast, his voice shaking in an effort to get it all said.
“I need to report a kidnapping, and you need to contact Detectives Rutherford and Allen. It has to do with a case they worked.”
And so it began. Questions as to how he knew and what he heard, and then even more questions.
“Look. My mom and I are out of town. You have all my information. It will take about forty-five minutes to get home. As soon as I get back to Stillwater I’ll help the detectives any way I can. In the meantime, contact her uncle, Pat Carmichael. He might have known more about her location when it happened.”
IT WAS TWO minutes after kick-off when Pat’s phone rang. His delight in hearing Mona’s voice ended the moment she started talking. He couldn’t believe—wouldn’t believe—and was arguing until she screamed his name.
“Pat! Stop! How do I know? I know because Flynn was talking to her when it happened! He heard her scream. He heard the kidnappers talking. He said to tell you to stay home, that the police will be there within minutes. We’re on the way home and will be there within the hour. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I’ll be there soon. You’re not going through this alone.”
Pat’s heart was hammering so hard he couldn’t breathe. His worst fear had just been realized. The very thing that set her apart from normal people also made her a target. As soon as Mona hung up, he tried to call Tara. It rang and rang and then went to voicemail.
Breath caught in the back of his throat as he jumped up from the sofa. By the time he ran out onto the porch he was sobbing. This had to be a mistake. Any second she would appear, see him standing out on the porch and wave. But he couldn’t see the end of the porch for the tears and staggered back into the house to get his coat. He didn’t care what Flynn said about waiting for the cops. She was his life, and some creep had snatched her. It didn’t matter why they took her. He was going to get her back.
He had his coat on and was heading out the door when a police cruiser pulled up into the drive. When an unmarked car pulled up beside it and he saw Detective Rutherford getting out, his legs went out from under him. He sat down on the steps to keep from falling.
TARA WAS TRYING to focus, but her body was in too much pain and shock. She tried to think Flynn’s name in the hopes that he would ‘hear’ her, but her mind was blank. She could feel saliva running out of the corner of her mouth, and her heart was racing too fast. She tried to scream, but her jaw was locked; her teeth clenched together so tightly she couldn’t open her mouth enough to form a word. They’d tossed her inside the pickup like an unwanted backpack and fastened her hands and feet together with duct tape. The two men were talking as if she wasn’t even there, verbally patting themselves on the back at how easy it had
been. When she finally got a good look at the driver, it was a visual punch in the gut. It was the man from her dream—the man with the pockmarked face. Her nightmare was coming true.
She tried to scream again, but nothing came out but a moan. If she could only move, the driver’s knee was within kicking distance of her foot. But before she could take another breath, the truck tires that had been humming along the highway suddenly fell off onto a rougher surface. She could hear the wheels spinning, trying to gain traction in the melting snow.
They were no longer on a highway! Where in God’s name were they taking her? She needed to sit up, to at least see where they were going so she could send a message to Flynn, but the two men were still talking as if she wasn’t even there, and all she could see was the underside of the dashboard.
The driver suddenly cursed, and before Tara could brace herself, the truck fell off into a pothole. The jolt bounced Tara upward, slamming her forehead against the underside of the dash, knocking her unconscious.
The next thing she knew, someone was wiping her face with a cold rag. She opened her eyes, saw a room straight out of a TV episode of a reality show about hoarding, and this time the scream came up her throat live and in color.
DIG WAS HOLDING a snow-packed rag on the knot on Tara’s forehead and unprepared for her return to consciousness. When she screamed, he stumbled backward and would have fallen flat on his backside but for Vince. And no matter what he did or said, the bitch just kept screaming.
Marsh came flying into the room, his clothes awry and his hair standing up on top of his head like he’d been running his fingers over and over through the greasy strands.
“Shut it, girl! We’re miles from nowhere, and no one can hear you scream,” he yelled.
All of a sudden doors began opening and closing, and pictures hanging on the wall hit the floor, shattering the glass into thousands of tiny pieces. Boxes stacked against the wall on the other side of the room began to tumble, and the trash that had been loose was now flying through the air, creating a maelstrom from the debris.
Dig screamed and started running for the door, but it wouldn’t open.
“It’s her! She’s making it happen!” Marsh shouted and ran toward Tara, yanked her up from the sofa where she was lying, and slapped her so hard her nose began to bleed. “Stop it! Stop it now, or I’ll take a knife to your face!”
To prove his point, he popped his switchblade and jabbed it against her cheek.
Tara moaned and reached for her nose, swiping at the blood with the back of her hand. “Stop, Millicent! Stop!” she cried.
The paper in the air dropped to the floor. The silence was almost as frightening as the chaos had been.
“Who’s Millicent?” Vince cried.
Tara shuddered as Marsh pushed the tip of the knife a little bit deeper into her cheek. Any more pressure, and it would cut her. “You can kill me. I can’t stop you. But you sign your own death warrants if you do. Millicent will peel the skin off your bodies and hang you from the rafters.”
Oooh, good one, Tara. If only I could, it would already be done.
Marsh’s eyes widened. “Who’s Millicent?”
“One of my ghosts.”
Marsh’s hand was suddenly trembling as he moved the knife from her cheek. “Your ghost?”
“I have two,” Tara said. “They’re always with me. Always.”
Vince moaned. “Why didn’t we know this ahead of time? I’m done. I want out of this. Now.”
Marsh waved the knife at Vince. “It’s too late for all that.” He turned and glared at Tara. “You do a favor for us, and when we get what we came for, we’ll let you go.”
No, they won’t.
I know that. Find Flynn and tell him.
He can’t hear us. He hears only the living. You have to tell him where you are.
But I don’t know where I am.
This house is a long way from the city. There is no number, no name on a road, no name on the mailbox. I will find a way to help you.
Don’t leave me!
Henry is here. Stay strong. I will be back.
Tara stifled a sob and made herself focus on what the men were saying.
“What favor do you want?” she asked.
“Tell us where Michael O’Mara hid the drug money, and we’re gone.”
“Michael O’Mara is dead, and I don’t know where he hid the drug money.”
Marsh grinned. “But that’s why you’re here. You can talk to the dead. Just ask him.”
“I can’t call up the dead. I don’t go to them. It doesn’t work that way. If they need something, sometimes they come to me, but O’Mara is a spirit who has no reason to tell me anything, so he won’t.”
Vince moaned. “This is wrong. We shouldn’t be messing around trying to conjure up spirits and make ghosts angry. What if they follow us home?”
Marsh looked nervous.
Dig started to cry.
Marsh spun toward Dig to shut him up and accidentally knocked over a small mountain of trash bags. They fell over onto Tara and Vince, who promptly disappeared from view.
FLYNN WAS SICK, staring blindly at the scenery flashing by as his mother sped down the highway toward home. He kept trying to lock into Tara’s thoughts, but it was as if she had vanished. Either she was unconscious or already dead. He wouldn’t let himself believe they would just kill her without trying to find the money first. It made no sense.
He was so angry at his father. Every bit of what they had gone through, and were going through again, was because of him and that drug money. He glanced at his mother, but her jaw was set and her eyes fixed on the road before them. He didn’t want to upset her any more than she already was. Like him, she felt guilty that it was her ex-husband who’d started all this mess.
His cell phone rang. It was Detective Rutherford.
“Hello?”
“Hey kid, it’s me, Rutherford. We found where they snatched her. Her phone was still there. We’re canvassing the area and have gotten similar comments from a couple of the neighbors. By any chance, do you know anyone who drives an old black truck? They think maybe a Dodge. It was loaded with firewood.”
Flynn ran through the names of people he knew, and none of them drove a vehicle like that.
“No, I don’t. Is that what the kidnappers were driving?”
“We’re not sure. But we have reports of it in the area this morning, as well as several days prior and always with the same load of wood. How far are you from Stillwater?”
“About twenty minutes.”
“Come straight to Tara’s house.”
“Yes, sir. See you soon.”
He dropped the phone back in his pocket.
“Who was that?” his mother asked.
“Detective Rutherford. They found Tara’s phone and where she was snatched. Asked me if I knew anyone who drove an old black Dodge with a load of firewood in the back.”
“Do you?”
“No. Does it sound familiar to you?”
She shook her head. “I can’t wait to get to Pat. He’s bound to be a wreck. That girl is his life.”
Flynn didn’t comment, but Tara Luna was the beginning and end of his world, as well. He couldn’t imagine a life without her in it. His eyes narrowed angrily as he stared out through the windshield, trying to figure out the best way to begin this conversation with his mother. He had put it off, but now was the opportune time to talk when they would not be interrupted.
“Mom, I need to tell you something and ask you something.”
She gave him a nervous glance and then kept her eyes on the road. “Like what?”
“Dad’s spirit came to try and tell me something last night while I was at Tara’s.”
She flinched as if he’d slapped her. “I don’t like this. He needs to go away and leave you alone.”
“Actually, he came to warn Tara that there were other people after her because of that missing money, but his energy is weak, and he couldn’t tell h
er much.”
“Oh my God! That money is going to be the death of all of us before it’s recovered.”
“Which brings me to the thing I need to ask you. Dad said you would know where it was.”
She gasped. “That’s a lie! I have no idea—”
“No. I said that wrong. Tara and I think he was trying to say that he hid it where only you would understand the clues he gave her.”
She frowned. “What kind of clues?”
“He said to tell you it’s with Aunt Tillie.”
Mona jumped. “Oh, dear lord! Yes, I do know what that means. What do we do?”
“Tell the detectives everything you know and let them worry about it.”
“Yes, of course. It just startled me so bad I wasn’t thinking.”
“Who’s Aunt Tillie?” Flynn asked.
“An old woman who lived in the house behind us when we were first married.”
“Do you know where she is now? What if she moved?”
Mona shook her head. “She definitely moved on, but I know where to find her.”
Flynn waited, but cryptically, she said nothing more.
MARSH AND DIG were throwing boxes and trash bags out into the yard with wild abandon, trying to get to Vince and Tara, who were at the bottom of the pile.
“Hurry, Dig, hurry!” Marsh cried. “They’ll suffocate if we don’t get them out.”
Dig was madly throwing things behind him, kicking aside boxes and carrying the other stuff out into the back yard and giving it a toss.
“It probably killed them both,” Dig muttered, as he dragged another trash bag off the pile.
“There’s Vince’s arm!” Marsh said. “Get those boxes off his shoulder!”
“And there’s the girl!” Dig said, pointing to a hand just visible in a space near Marsh’s foot.
Now that their targets had been located, it was easier to uncover them. Vince had taken the brunt of the load and was lying halfway across Tara’s body. Marsh dropped to his knee to check for pulses, and when he felt them both, leaned back with a relieved sigh.
