Lunatic Revenge

by Sharon Sala

  “Then let him go. Let him get well, then I’ll be the go-between for the both of you. I’ll tell him everything you want him to hear. I’ll be your voice.”

  Instead of an answer, O’Mara took a step back and was swallowed up by the mist.

  Tara was scared. She didn’t know what O’Mara was going to do next, but she couldn’t leave without telling Flynn how to come back.

  “Come back, Flynn! Please, come back. Listen for your mother’s voice. Listen for mine. Follow the love, Flynn. Follow the love.”

  Chapter Eight

  Two days later, Tara was released from the hospital, but the drive home was nerve-wracking. Every time they met a car she grew tense, and when the cars in front of them began slowing down for red lights, she grabbed hold of the door with one hand and her seat belt with the other.

  Pat knew she was upset, but there was nothing he could do to make the ride any easier, except to keep reassuring her.

  “It’s okay, honey. I’m being careful and so are they. No one is speeding. No one is driving erratically, see?”

  Tara nodded, but her heart was pounding so hard she could barely think. She kept expecting someone to hit them, or to ram the car from behind, and wondered if this fear would ever pass.

  He decided to change the subject. “I got a phone call from the police last night. They want to get your statement about the accident. Apparently the driver of the sports car is claiming it was the truck driver’s fault because something fell off the truck and caused him to swerve. He’s denying all claims that any of it was his responsibility.”

  Tara was immediately angry, which was what he intended. “That’s just crazy,” she said. “He was speeding. He tried to pass that truck on the bridge, then whipped back into the lane behind the truck and clipped it. He hit the truck. He caused the trash to fall off and he’s the one who hit us. Twice. “

  “Glad you remember that,” Pat said. “He knows Flynn is unconscious, and I think he was hoping you would have no memory of the accident.”

  “I remember everything, right up to the moment when I felt the water going over our heads.”

  “Lord have mercy,” Pat said, his voice shaking.

  “I’ll tell them all of it. When is this happening?”

  “I told them I’d call when we got home and set up a time.”

  “Is the creep still in jail?”

  “I think so, although you know he’ll make bail.”

  “But he almost killed us.”

  “That’s how the law works. However, you just tell the police what you saw. They’ll do the rest.”

  Tara nodded, but the anger she was feeling overshadowed her fear of traffic and before she knew it, they were home. Pat pulled up into the drive and then parked.

  “Welcome home, baby girl.”

  Tara blinked. “We’re here.”

  “Hold on a sec and I’ll help you out.”

  She was grateful to be getting out of the car, and then noticed the back of the car was full of flowers.

  “What about all those?”

  “I’ll bring them in after I get you inside.”

  Tara waited as he circled the car. When he opened the door, she stepped out. There were so many bruises appearing on her body that she looked like she’d been in a fight. Her legs still felt a little shaky and her chest hurt if she took too deep a breath. She was thankful for his support as they went inside.

  “I never appreciated how good it is to be home,” Tara said, and then immediately felt guilty that she was home and Flynn wasn’t.

  “Do you want to go to your room, or settle in here on the sofa?” Pat asked.

  “The sofa, please. I’ve just spent the past two days in a bed. You can put my stuff in my bedroom, and be careful of my dream-catcher, Uncle Pat. Would you put a nail in the wall just over the headboard of my bed? I want to hang it there so I can see it when I lay down.”

  “I sure will. You settle in while I carry in the rest of the stuff, then I’ll see about making us some lunch.”

  Tara sat down, but she couldn’t stay there. As soon as Pat began bringing in the flowers, she started moving them all over the house, leaving some in the living room, a couple of the potted plants in the kitchen, and a small pot of violets in her bedroom. She took the asparagus fern into the bathroom, knowing that the moisture from their baths and showers would be good for it.

  She’d never had flowers before, and now the house was full of them. It was a shame she’d had to drown for it happen. The good part was that she got to come back to this crazy world in which she lived. If only Flynn came back whole and healthy, she’d never ask God for another thing as long as she lived.

  “Did you call the police?” Tara asked, as Pat came in with the last of her things.

  “Yes. I told them we’d come down after lunch.”

  “Good. I’m going to get a cold pop.”

  “I’ll get it, honey. Sit down and take it easy.”

  Tara sat, but she couldn’t quit fidgeting. She couldn’t get that dream about Flynn out of her head. She hadn’t had it again, but it still gave her the creeps.

  It wasn’t a dream.

  Tara moaned. “No. You mean that’s really happening?”

  He’s lost.

  Tara panicked. “Can you make O’Mara come see me again?”

  He’s like Flynn, caught in between. Neither here or there. I cannot communicate.

  Tara felt sick.

  “Here’s your pop, honey. I poured it over ice.”

  Tara took the can and made herself shift focus. There were things that she needed to think about.

  “Thanks, Uncle Pat.” She took a sip of the cold Pepsi and then set it on the coffee table.

  “I’m going to see what’s in the fridge,” Pat said.

  “I won’t want much. The thought of food makes me queasy.”

  “Okay. Hang tight. I won’t be long,” Pat said, and patted the top of her head just like he’d done when she was little.

  The gesture was touching but she quickly blinked back the tears. She was done crying. It was time to declare war – war on the fool who’d nearly killed them, and war on a dead man who wouldn’t let go of the son he’d left behind.

  The police station was busy as Tara and her uncle walked in and approached the information desk.

  “My niece is here to give a statement on the wreck she was in. The officer who’s expecting us is named Blakely.”

  The man picked up the phone. “Have a seat. I’ll tell him you’re here.”

  They moved to a row of chairs against the wall and sat down.

  A woman sitting nearby gave Pat a long, studied look. Tara saw her staring and frowned. When the woman realized Tara was watching her, she quickly looked away.

  OMG. I can’t believe that woman was thinking about hitting on my uncle.

  Your Pat is a nice-looking man, Tara. I always thought he was a cutie pie—

  Millicent! Do not finish that sentence and expect me to face you again.

  Well, technically, Tara, you have never faced me, so I fail to see the point of that threat. However, I will desist.

  Thank you.

  Still, you have to admit that he’s—

  No! I don’t want to hear this.

  Tara heard a giggle, a pop, then saw a brief flash of pink smoke. Millicent was being outrageous today, dropping hints and not finishing them, talking about her uncle’s sex appeal. Tara was so not in the mood.

  At that point, a man came out of a hallway and called out her name. “Tara Luna?”

  Tara and Pat stood up.

  “I’m Officer Blakely. Follow me.”

  And just like that, everyone in the outer office did an about face as they recognized the name. She was the psychic who’d found people in the wreckage of the tornado—the same girl who’d been rescued from Boomer Lake.

  Tara felt their gazes, and had to block out the random thoughts from the room behind her as she and her uncle followed the officer back to his des
k. He picked up a tape recorder, then led them to an interrogation room for privacy. After a few basic questions to establish her identity, the officer turned it over to Tara.

  “Now, tell me, in your own words, exactly what happened and how the wreck occurred.”

  Tara began ticking off the incident, from the time they pulled out onto Lakeview Road to when they approached the bridge.

  “He was driving way too fast and kept trying to pass the truck.”

  The officer stopped her. “Are you referring to the truck loaded with debris?”

  “Yes. The truck and another car drove onto the bridge at the same time. They were both in the east-bound lanes of the bridge. You know that’s a four-lane bridge, right? So the guy in the sports car tried to pass both the car and the truck, only there was traffic coming from the other direction. He slammed on his brakes and swerved back into the eastbound lane to keep from getting hit head-on. When he swerved back, he cut it too close. He missed the car, but hit the back-end of the truck. We saw him hit it. It was a really hard jolt and his car was already spinning out of control when the debris came loose.”

  Tara’s hands were fisted in her lap, remembering the panic that she’d felt as she continued the story. “Flynn yelled at me to watch out, and was already braking when the debris hit the sports car, and then the car hit us. The driver hit us once on the front bumper, and when we started to spin, he hit us again on the rear bumper.

  “That’s when we went airborne over the railing and into the lake. I unbuckled our seat belts and was trying to get us out of the car, but Flynn kept saying he couldn’t breathe, and then the water was over our heads.” Tara stopped and took a deep breath to keep her voice from shaking. “It is that driver’s fault that the accident occurred. His driving was reckless and too fast. He caused it all and I’ll swear that on a stack of Bibles.”

  Officer Blakely turned off the tape recorder and stood up. “I’ll have this typed up and then you can sign it, okay?”

  Tara leaned back and closed her eyes as the officer left the room.

  “You okay?” Pat asked. “I mean, this isn’t too strenuous for you?”

  “I’m mad, not weak.”

  Pat relaxed. Anger was healthy. It meant she was moving past the shock.

  “Can we please go by the hospital before we go home? I still haven’t seen Flynn.”

  He hesitated. “If you’re sure you’re up to it.”

  “I can’t rest until I see him, Uncle Pat.”

  “Okay. I understand. But since he’s in ICU, we may have to wait a bit for the next visiting time. They’re very strict about it there.”

  “I don’t care how long I wait. I have to talk to him.”

  Pat frowned. “But I thought you said he wasn’t going to wake up for a while.”

  “He’s not, but he will be able to hear me.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. Seriously.”

  A short while later Officer Blakely was back. He slid the statement in front of her.

  “Please read that over to make sure there are no errors and then sign and date it.”

  Tara read it, signed it and then handed it back. Their hands touched, and in that moment she saw something about Blakely that he needed to know.

  “Who’s Shorty?”

  Blakely blinked. His mouth dropped. “Uh . . .”

  “Never mind. I don’t need to know his identity, but you need to know whatever he’s telling you is a lie. Don’t invest your money. It’s a scam.”

  Blakely already knew the girl’s reputation, but he hadn’t really believed it until now. “Shorty is my brother-in-law.”

  “Ouch,” Tara said. “Sorry about that. Have you already given him the check?”

  “Holy Moses,” Blakely muttered and took a step backward. “Uh . . . he’s coming by tonight to pick it up.”

  Tara frowned. “I think there are others. Maybe a dozen people who’ve already invested in his scheme. Go to the Deeds and Records office. I think the land deed he showed you is a forgery. The land in question still belongs to someone else. He’s going to take the money and run.”

  “Son-of-a-bitch,” Blakely mumbled, then realized what he’d said. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said—”

  “It’s fine,” Tara said. “I’m really sorry.”

  Blakely seemed to come to his senses and instead, shook Tara’s hand.

  “No, don’t be sorry. Thank you. I had a bad feeling about this from the start, but it’s my wife’s brother and she was so certain it would be a good deal. What I need to do now is check out that deed like you said and go from there. Thanks kid, thanks a bunch. I haven’t ever arrested a family member before, but I have a feeling it’s about to happen.”

  “Yes, well, good luck,” Tara said.

  Blakely grinned. “I don’t need luck. You already changed it for me by the warning. Come on, I’ll walk you out of the precinct.”

  By the time they reached the car, Tara felt lighter just from being able to help him avert financial disaster.

  Pat eyed Tara as she began to buckle up. “I’d like to be a fly on his wall tonight, wouldn’t you?”

  She shook her head. “Not me. It’s going to hit the fan big time. He doesn’t know it, but his wife is in on it. She has a gambling problem and her brother was going to give her that check for pay-off money to a loan shark. It will all come out in the wash, as they say.”

  “Oh lord,” Pat said, and then grinned. “You are something. I wish your mother had lived to help you through all this. With me, you’re just finding your way all alone.”

  “I’m not alone, Uncle Pat. I have you for the real stuff, and Millicent and Henry for the weird stuff. If I can just get Flynn to come back, it will all be good.”

  Pat frowned. “Come back? You mean, wake up?”

  “Something like that. Now can we go to the hospital?”

  “That we can.”

  There were more than a dozen students from their class in the ICU waiting room when Tara and Pat walked in. Tara stopped short, startled by their presence, but Mona jumped up and went to meet her.

  “Sweetheart . . . oh Tara,” she said, and gave her a gentle hug. “I can tell you were hurt. All those cuts and bruises . . . but I’m so glad you’re okay. Seeing you walking in like this gives me hope for Flynn.”

  Despite her intent not to cry, Tara’s eyes filled with tears. “He got hurt in the wreck before we even got in the water.”

  “But you helped save him. Pat said you unbuckled the both of you after the car was in the lake, and then held his head out of the water until . . . until . . .” Mona covered her face. “I’m sorry. It’s all so horrible.”

  “Yes, ma’am. It is, but I need to talk to you privately, and to ask your permission if I can see Flynn when it’s the next visiting time. I know they only allow one or two family members at a time, but it’s really important.”

  Mona looked startled, then took Tara by the hand and led her out of the waiting room and into a small alcove down the hall.

  “Talk to me,” she said.

  “You know what I can do, right? I mean, you’re okay with it and everything?”

  “Oh honey, I don’t know how it works, but I have the utmost regard and respect of you.”

  Tara nodded. “Okay, then here’s the deal. Flynn is still unconscious, right?”

  Mona nodded as tears ran down her cheeks. “The doctor is calling it a coma.”

  Tara sighed. “Yes. But here’s what you need to know. Flynn isn’t waking up because his spirit is not in his body. It was called out, and now he’s lost and can’t find his way back. When you’re with him, you need to talk to him and tell him to follow the sound of your voice, and that it will all be okay. He just needs to come home.”

  Mona looked horrified. “How does stuff like that happen?”

  “Your ex-husband did it. I saw him here yesterday. He followed Flynn into surgery and he’s the one who called Flynn out. I saw them both in a dream. I tried to t
alk to Flynn but he couldn’t see me. When he tried to follow my voice, O’Mara called him in the other direction. He doesn’t want him to leave. I challenged O’Mara and he’s mad at me, but I keep hoping he’ll do the right thing and let Flynn go. Flynn is scared and confused, and the only way we can help him come back is to keep talking him home.”

  Mona was so mad she was shaking. “That is just like him—selfish to the core. He ruined our marriage, nearly ruined Flynn and I financially, and just when I think he’s out of our lives, he won’t die.”

  “Oh, he’s dead, and he needs to cross over. I told him I’d gladly be the go-between for him and Flynn later, but Flynn needs to get well first.”

  “What did Mike say?”

  “He just disappeared.”

  Mona clutched Tara’s hand. “I’ll talk to Flynn every moment I get, and yes, of course you can see him. Anytime you want.”

  “You can also weigh in and do some one-on-one talking to your ex-husband, as well. Maybe you’ll have some influence with him. I sure don’t,” Tara said.

  “It’s going to be another thirty minutes before visitation. Let’s go back into the waiting room. You need to sit down,” Mona said. “Your fellow students have been so sweet coming and going, bringing me food and clean clothes from my house . . . even saying prayers with me. I never knew he had so many friends.”

  “Bad times either bring out the best or the worst of people,” Tara said.

  “They’ve been asking about you, too. They didn’t know you’d already checked out when they arrived, so they’ll be glad to talk to you.”

  Tara followed Mona back to the waiting room and was quickly pulled into the group, fielding hugs and well-wishes. It made her feel strong with all the friendship at her back.

  When the time finally came for visitors to go into ICU, Tara was on her feet and trying not to panic. She didn’t know what to expect and wasn’t ready to face seeing Flynn hooked up to a half-dozen machines that were keeping him alive.

  “You go alone this time,” Mona said, and pushed Tara forward. “Do your thing, honey.”

  Tara took a deep breath and went into ICU like she was going to war, with her head up and her eyes flashing. She followed Mona’s direction past the other patients and straight to his bed. Other than oxygen and a heart monitor, Flynn looked the same. But he was so still. If it hadn’t been for the repetitive beep of the heart monitor she would have thought he was dead.