by Sharon Sala
Mr. Whiteside was still there loading up limbs when Uncle Pat came home. Tara saw him drive in, then stop to talk to their landlord before coming inside. The closer the time came to go visit Flynn, the more anxious she’d become. She’d already laid out clean clothes for Pat. All he had to do was shower and change and they’d be off.
A couple of minutes later, he came inside.
“Hey, honey. You look all pretty and rested. Was the day too boring being here alone?”
Tara grinned. Between the news crew, the bird attack, the detectives checking out a complaint, her run-in with Dracula, and Mr. Whiteside’s chainsaw, it had been anything but boring.
“It was fine. I laid out your clean clothes. All you need to do is clean up and we’re good to go.”
Pat kissed her cheek as he sailed past. “You are a sweetheart. I won’t be long.”
He paused halfway down the hall and yelled back. “Hey, did you decide where you wanted to go eat?”
“Except for the Hideaway Pizza, I don’t know which places have opened back up since the tornado.”
“Oh, well, then I’ll think on it while I’m showering and then you can pick from the ones I know about, okay?”
She nodded, but the truth was she didn’t much care. Food still wasn’t the priority it had been. It hadn’t occurred to her that she was associating the thought of food with what had happened to her and Flynn, because they’d been on their way to Texas Roadhouse to eat when the wreck occurred.
As she sat down to wait for Pat to clean up, she saw yet another car stop down at the curb in front of the house.
“Not again,” she muttered.
It’s not what you think.
Sure enough, Millicent was right. The last person Tara would have expected to see walking up to the house was her nemesis, Prissy. Only Prissy wasn’t alone. She was holding a little boy’s hand, and he was crying.
“Oh no.”
It’s still not what you think. Stop expecting the worst and face it.
It wasn’t often that Millicent called her down, so when she did, Tara knew enough to pay attention. As soon as they knocked, she reluctantly opened the door.
“Prissy . . . this is a surprise.”
Prissy looked as uncomfortable as Tara felt. “I know. Hey, I saw you on TV. What you did after the tornado was amazing, and I’ll tell you that we may not be friends, but I will never dis you again. I also want to tell you I’m so sorry about what happened to you and Flynn. I’ve been saying prayers that he gets well soon.”
Tara blinked. This was the last thing she would have expected to come out of Prissy’s mouth.
“This is good to know,” Tara said, and then glanced down at the little boy. “Who’s your friend?”
“My little brother, Raymond. He’s seven, and he has a problem that I hope you can fix.”
“Ah,” Tara said. At least now the visit made sense. “Hi, Raymond. It’s nice to meet you.” She pointed at the object in the little boy’s hand. “What do you have there?”
Raymond’s eyes welled. “It’s Wilson’s leash.” Then he hid his face against Prissy’s leg and began to sob.
Prissy gave Tara a pleading look. “Wilson is Raymond’s beagle. The meter reader left the gate to the back yard open today and he got out. We’ve been looking all afternoon and can’t find him. Mom and Dad are still at work, and they’re going to blame me for letting it happen. Like it’s my fault the meter reader was a jerk. I know you don’t owe me a thing, and I wouldn’t ask it for myself, but I’d do pretty much anything for Raymond, even bug you when I know you pretty much hate my guts.”
It was the honesty that sold Tara—that and the little guy’s sobs.
“Can I hold the leash for a minute?” Tara asked.
Prissy handed it over, and the moment the leather touched Tara’s palm, she saw the dog. The good part was that he wasn’t already road kill, but he was curled up against a fence licking his leg, which made her think he could be hurt. She closed her eyes so she could concentrate on the surroundings through which it was moving.
“Can you see anything?” Prissy asked.
Tara’s eyebrows knitted as she focused on the scene inside her mind.
“He’s sitting against a fence licking his leg. He might have gotten hurt, which is why he didn’t come home.”
Prissy patted her little brother’s back. “Don’t cry, Raymond. Tara is helping us find Wilson, okay?”
He wiped the snot on his upper lip on the back of his sleeve. “Where is he?” Raymond asked.
Tara kept watching the scene unfold. In her head, it was like zooming out from the dog, to the sidewalk, then the houses, then to a street sign. When she saw a very familiar business, her eyes popped open. She had the location.
“He’s in the alley next to Eskimo Joe’s. The aroma of food probably led him there. I don’t know what’s wrong with his leg, but I have the feeling that he can’t walk on it.”
Tara handed the leash back to Prissy, who was slack-jawed and staring in disbelief.
“How do you do that?” she whispered.
Tara shrugged. “I don’t know. I was born this way.” Then she knelt down. “You and your big sister will have Wilson home before you know it, okay?”
All of a sudden Raymond threw his arms around her neck. “Thank you for using your magic,” he whispered.
Now Tara was the one with tears in her eyes. “You’re welcome, Raymond. See you around, okay?”
Tara walked them to the door. “You should probably hurry. I didn’t see anything bad happening, but to be on the safe side, the sooner he’s in your car, the better.”
Prissy paused. “Thanks, Tara. You are one serious lunatic, but I will defend your right to be whatever you need to be.” Then she held out her hand. “Truce?”
“Truce,” Tara said.
They shook on it.
She watched as the brother and sister headed back down the driveway at a fast pace. Raymond was talking non-stop as they drove away.
“Who was that?” Pat said, as he walked into the living room.
“Just a friend from school,” Tara said. “So what are my choices?”
Pat grinned. “Besides Hideaway Pizza, Red Lobster is open. Mexico Joe’s is open. Sonic Drive-In is open, and the Braum’s Ice cream just off Western is open.”
“Braum’s. I want a chocolate malt and you like their bacon burgers. Is that okay with you?”
Pat gave her a quick, easy hug. “Honey, anything you want is okay with me. So, let’s head that way, okay? I called Mona and told her I’d bring her something for supper when we came to visit. This will be perfect.”
Chapter Ten
When Tara and her uncle walked into Braum’s, the first thing the diners noticed were her bruises, then she saw their gazes shift to Pat. She heard their thoughts, wondering if it had happened in the tornado or if he had abused her. Even though it was the farthest thing from the truth, she hated that they would think that of him.
So don’t let the assumption slide.
Tara blinked. Millicent’s advice was so obvious she didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it herself.
“I would like a large chocolate malt, Uncle Pat. I’m going to get a booth, okay?”
“Sure honey. Do you want anything else?”
“No, thank you. Just the malt.”
Pat watched until she got to the booth then went to the counter to get in line.
Tara sat down and immediately smiled at the people sitting at the table just across the aisle.
“That looks good,” she said. “Hot fudge sundae?”
The woman nodded as she stared at Tara’s face even harder.
“I’m a mess, aren’t I?” Tara said. “My boyfriend and I were in a wreck on Lakeview Road the other day. We went over the bridge into the water. I’m still pinching myself that I’m actually here ordering ice cream. I thought I was dead.”
Her voice carried just enough to end the assumptions the people had been makin
g, which was her intent.
The woman’s expression shifted from suspicion to disbelief.
“Oh, my word, we saw that on the news the other night. Bless your heart. Is your boyfriend okay, too?”
“No, ma’am. He got hurt pretty bad. He’s still in ICU, but we think he’s taken a turn for the better.”
The woman smiled again as she and her husband got up from the table. “Glad you’re doing okay. Have a nice evening, honey.”
“You, too,” Tara said. She eased herself to a more comfortable position and then caught the man in the booth in front of her staring.
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You’re the girl who helped search and rescue after the tornado, aren’t you?”
Here it comes, she thought, and nodded.
“My brother died that day.”
Tara gave him a closer look. “You’re Tom Lewis’s brother, aren’t you?”
His hands started to shake. “How did you know?”
“You look alike.”
“Did you know him from before?”
“No sir. I only saw him that day after the storm.”
“But he died in the storm. You couldn’t have—”
Tara watched the reality of what she’d said appear on his face and she wanted him to understand that his brother was okay.
“He’s the one who showed me where he was. He didn’t want to cross over until his body had been found. I told him I would wait until the rescue people came, and that I would make sure they knew where to find his body. After that, he walked into the light.”
The man’s hands started to shake. “Lord have mercy. What a treasure you are, child. What a treasure.”
He shook his head as he got up from the table, dumped the rest of his food in the trash, and then walked over to where Pat was standing in line.
Tara saw them talking, and then they shook hands. The man looked back at Tara one more time, and then walked out of the store. A couple of minutes later, Pat came to the booth and sat down.
“That man just bought our supper. He said to tell you, thank you for what you did for his brother.”
Tara leaned back, then looked out the window, watching the man as he got in his car and drove away. It looked like he was crying.
“Maybe I was wrong, Uncle Pat.”
“About what, honey?”
“People being weird about me. Maybe they don’t all think that way, after all.”
He grinned. “See. I told you it would be okay.”
A woman behind the counter called out. “Pickup, order 223.”
Pat glanced at his ticket. “That’s us. Hang on, honey. I’ll be right back.”
Tara felt like she was standing outside of herself as she watched her uncle going back to the counter to pick up their food.
She could see all the other diners eating and talking, some laughing—a couple of them quietly fighting—but she imagined that they couldn’t see her. In that moment a wave of déjà vu washed over her that left her reeling. It seemed that she’d been through times like this before—great worry and sadness, and yet an observer without ever participating—but in other centuries—as other people.
And then her uncle turned around. He was smiling as he carried the tray with their food back to the booth and just like that, the feeling passed and she was her sore and bruised self again, waiting for that chocolate malt to arrive.
“Here you go, honey, one chocolate malt for my best girl.”
Tara smiled as he set the frosty cup in front of her, then tore the paper off her straw, poked it through the lid, and took her first sip. It was cold and sweet, and when she swallowed, the taste of chocolate stayed strong all the way down her throat.
“Taste good?” Pat asked, as he bit into his bacon burger.
She nodded and took another sip. All in all, it was turning out to be a better outing than she’d expected, and they finished eating without incident.
When Pat went back to pick up his to-go order for Mona, Tara headed to the bathroom. She locked the door behind her, used the bathroom and then quickly washed up, anxious to get to the hospital. She was drying her hands when someone rattled the knob.
Beware.
Tara froze. Beware? Of who?
Henry said to tell you that when you get out, throw an elbow and run.
Tara was in a panic. OMG. What was happening here?
Just do it.
She took a deep breath, readied her stance and swung the door inward. She caught a glimpse of a big woman and a flash of gaudy red hair as the woman lunged forward, grabbing Tara’s forearm.
She threw her elbow up, and at the moment of contact, flashed on a face as she heard her grunt in pain. Tara pulled free of her grasp and ran up the narrow hall, hit the exit door with the flat of her hands and was outside and in the parking lot, running toward the car where her Uncle Pat waited.
She jumped inside and quickly locked the doors.
“Drive,” she said breathlessly.
Pat looked wild-eyed. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, but Millicent told me to run and I did. There’s a big red-headed woman who keeps showing up everywhere I go, and I just saw her again. She grabbed me as I came out of the bathroom but I got away.”
“I’m not driving away. I’m going to give that woman a—”
“No, Uncle Pat! Drive! Please!”
Pat was frowning as he put the car in gear, then backed out of the parking space and quickly drove away.
Tara looked back over her shoulder just as the woman came running out. She was holding her eye, and even though Tara couldn’t hear her, she knew she was cursing. Tara also knew now that the woman wasn’t stalking her to get her fortune read. This was the woman she’d seen in the picture with Sam Nettles and Michael O’Mara. She was definitely heavier and her hair was a different color, but there was no mistaking the fact that Tara had seen Michael O’Mara’s face when the woman grabbed her arm.
Tara pulled out her cell phone and made a quick call to Detective Rutherford. It didn’t seem strange to her that she had his private number on her contact list. Her life was so lunatic that she really should have it on speed dial. When he answered, she relayed her info quickly.
“Detective Rutherford, this is Tara. You remember I told you about that woman in Sam Nettles’ life?”
“Yeah. Don’t tell me you know where she is?”
“At the Braum’s just off Western, if you hurry?”
“How the hell, excuse my language, do you know this?”
“Because she tried to grab me as I came out of the bathroom. I gave her a bloody nose and ran. She was still there when we left, but I doubt she’ll be there long.”
“Did you see what she was driving?”
“No, but for the record, I realized it’s not the first time I’ve seen her. I think she’s been stalking me and I didn’t know it.”
“Go home and stay there.”
“Nope. On the way to the hospital to see Flynn.”
“Then don’t leave there until you hear from me.”
He hung up in her ear, which was fine with Tara. She’d delivered the message.
Pat took a deep breath as he braked for a red light. “You’re being stalked?”
“I think so, but I didn’t know it until just now.”
“You’ve seen this woman before? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She started to come into my room the first night I was in the hospital. I thought she was just another nut wanting me to tell them lottery numbers or something, but she got freaked about something and left without asking me anything but my name.”
“Good lord,” Pat muttered.
“I thought I saw her once after that, and then the incident just now. But one good thing came from our contact.”
“What’s that?” Pat asked.
“I know for sure she had a relationship with the guy who kidnapped Flynn, which means she could have known about that hidden money. I’m pretty sure she’
s the person who killed Sam’s brother, Floy. I hope they catch her. If they do, that will mean Flynn and his mother won’t be in danger anymore. Oh . . . and Detective Rutherford told us not to leave the hospital until we hear from him.”
Pat muttered beneath his breath.
“What did you say?” Tara asked.
He sighed. “I was reminding myself about the promise I made to God when I found out you’d been hurt.”
Tara frowned. “What did you promise?”
“That I would never take another drink as long as I lived if He’d just make sure you were all right.”
Tara gasped. “Did you really, Uncle Pat?”
“Yes, honey, I did. And you may not have noticed, but there’s not a drop of liquor left in the house. I poured it all down the drain the day I brought you home from the hospital. However, if you don’t quit scaring years off my life, I may have to resort to something else to calm my nerves. I may have to take up knitting or whittling, or something equally embarrassing to stay sane around you.”
Tara slid her hand across his arm. “That means a lot to me. I’m really proud of you,” she said softly.
He grinned wryly. “Yeah, I’m pretty proud of myself, too. If we can just get you out of this latest mess and get Flynn well in the process, I’ll be a happy man.”
“Me, too, Uncle Pat. I know Flynn is waking up, but I’m so scared that he won’t . . . that he will have . . .” She rubbed her face, as if trying to wipe away the bad thoughts. “That he won’t be the same.”
“I know, but at this point, Mona is willing to accept whatever his condition might be, as long as he lives through this.”
Tara understood that. But she was thinking about what Flynn would accept, and she knew him well enough to know he would rebel in so many ways if he came back with physical or mental issues he couldn’t control. Still, it was all out of their hands. At this point, all Tara could hope for was that the cops caught that crazy woman before she caught up with her.
French Langdon had traded his Harley for an SUV and was parked in the back of the Braum’s parking lot, waiting for Tara and her uncle to emerge. He saw her uncle come out on his own and get in the car, then kept watching for Tara. But when she finally came out, he didn’t expect to see a panicked expression on her face, or for her to be running.
