Jekyll Island: A Paranormal Mystery (Taryn's Camera Book 5) (18 page)

“
I
still say he’s been standing there listening to us the whole time,” Matt insisted.

“Dude, let it go,” she laughed. “Just let it go.”

She’d felt fine when they left the house. She even drove the golf cart herself, despite Matt’s insistence of letting him give it a spin. Now that they were at Adena Cottage, however, Taryn was exhausted. She’d broken into a sweat and her legs felt heavy. The beginning of a headache was annoying her. Still, she wanted to get out and show Matt her job sites. She’d been a terrible hostess. He was meant to return home that evening but had opted to stay one more night to ensure she was over the worst of it. Now Taryn was worried about his job. How long would NASA put up with that? Weren’t they already on thin ice budget wise?

“You
sure
you’re feeling up to this?” Matt asked in concern, glancing over at her as they wandered through grass.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” she swore, though she knew she was pale and had never truly been able to fool Matt–not even when they were kids. “Besides, we’re just going to walk around a house. We’re not swimming the rapids or climbing Kilimanjaro.”

Standing before the derelict cottage, Matt frowned. “You’re right. It’s not in very good condition.”

“Yeah, well, they’re going to start working on it in the fall,” Taryn retorted. She felt defensive of the aging beauty. It wasn’t her fault nobody had maintained her. “She’ll be a real showstopper then.”

“I’m sure she will,” he concurred, but his almost condescending tone had Taryn’s hackles rising.

“Here, just look up there at that turret,” she pointed. “Isn’t it magnificent?”

Matt tried to look appreciative but failed. “I’m sorry, Taryn, I know you love those features but I’m more of a simple guy myself. It’ all a little much for me. I’m probably more of a brick ranch house on St. Simon’s, to be honest.”

Taryn was inexplicably disappointed. She knew they didn’t have to have everything in common and that there were couples who were complete opposites and still managed to have totally healthy relationships. Still, the old houses and architecture were more than just a love and hobby for her–they were an essential
part
of her.

“Well, you can at least appreciate the porch, right?” she asked hopefully. “I mean, with a swing and some white wicker chairs…It would look pretty wouldn’t it?”

Maybe feeling like he’d disappointed her enough he slipped his arm around her shoulder. “It’s a fantastic porch,” Matt said. “It will be a great place to enjoy the sunset, drink lemonade, and relax. I do love a good porch on a house.”

Feeling pitifully better, and hating herself for feeling like she needed his approval, Taryn moved and began walking around the edge of the house, being careful not to get too close.

“I’d love to go inside but this is in bad shape, even for me,” she explained when they stopped by a large window.

“Considering your luck I don’t think it would be a great idea,” Matt agreed. “She might just get mad and fall down on you.”

“Oh no, Adena wouldn’t do that to me,” Taryn proclaimed. There was that defensiveness again. “She
likes
me. It’s Ivy House who has a problem with me, although we’re working on that. I think she’s caving, no pun intended.”

Matt didn’t say anything, just smiled.

Taryn, overcome with an exhaustion of a different kind, fiddled with Miss Dixie’s settings and cleaned the lens with a cloth she kept in her knapsack. “Listen, I’m going to take some shots of what’s left of the roof,” she said. “I’m having some trouble with it back at the house and I want to see if I missed anything.”

“Okay,” Matt sang cheerfully. “I’ll just mosey on around the property myself.”

Left alone, Taryn sighed and went to work. She was being too hard on Matt. He didn’t have to like and appreciate everything she did. The important thing was that he supported her, right?

“Right,” she assured herself out loud.

But she still wasn’t entirely convinced.

“
Let
me see that again,” Matt demanded, moving in to look at Taryn’s computer screen.

“See?” she pointed at the top left-hand corner. “I missed it the first few times myself. But it’s obvious now. Can’t you see his face?”

Matt pursed his lips and studied the image. “Yeah, I see it. Definitely a man.”

“And look…” Taryn brought up a copy of the image taken in front of Adena Cottage, the one containing Rachel, William, Georgiana, and her father. Taryn had taken a picture of the image while thumbing through the book in Ellen’s office. “It’s definitely him. It’s William.”

“I see it,” Matt agreed. “And it does look like William. You’re right about the house, too. It was attractive before it started falling apart.”

In spite of their individual feelings towards the older homes, they both took a moment to sit back and admire the beauty of the once-grand vacation cottage. In the picture Taryn took of the back of the house, it was perfectly intact. “Yeah. It did look good,” she said.

“So what do you think this means?” Matt asked, continuing to study the image, zooming in on the other windows to see if anything else stood out.

Taryn was ready with an answer. She’d been working on it for the past hour. “I think it means that William was having an affair with Georgiana. It explains why he didn’t have a solid alibi for that night. Or it explains why he killed his wife in the first place. It was her money and if he divorced her he wouldn’t get the cash. He tried to make it look like an accident.”

“And then, once an acceptable amount of time went by, he could marry the other woman?” Matt ventured.

“Yes! Or else he was sleeping with her at the time of the fire and it really was an accident,” Taryn mused. “But the fact that he’s upstairs in what has to be a bedroom and kind of lurking around, see that weird look on his face, means something.”

Matt nodded his head and considered this.

“And why else would he supposedly return to her grave every night put a candle on it?” Taryn asked with triumph.

“Love.”

“Guilt!”

Both answered in unison and then laughed at one another.

“Well,” Matt remarked drily. “It’s easy to see who the cynic is between us.”

“You’ve always been a romantic, dear,” Taryn said fondly, patting him on the leg.

“I don’t want to be a fly in this ointment, but you’re assuming that was Georgiana’s room. What if it were her father’s? What if in this picture he’d been called up to talk to him?”

Matt’s question was reasonable enough but Taryn didn’t think that was it. To her, it was obvious that Rachel’s ghost had sent her the image to prove that her late husband had been fooling around with another woman. After all, it had to be Rachel who was sending her the messages and haunting her.

Taryn was sure of that. 

“
I promise you’ll like the beach
,” Taryn coaxed Matt, all but dragging him up the steep rise of sand. “This one is different.”

“I live very close to the beach at home,” he complained but continue to follow, lugging the beach bag that contained their drinks, blankets, and sunscreen.

“This is different,” she promised. “You live near Daytona Beach. Since you don’t really drink, never go to clubs, don’t like loud noises, and think driving a car or four-wheeler on the sand is profane you’ve never fully appreciated the area you live in. You’ll
like
this.”

Matt may have grumbled, but he’d go along with just about anything Taryn wanted and she often used this to her advantage. She knew what Matt would like, and what he wouldn’t, and this was something he needed to see.

When they crested the rise and stood looking out over the water, Taryn could feel Matt’s exhale, a sigh of relief. “Okay,” he relented with a grin. “You were right.”

“I knew you’d see it that way. Now come on,” she cried, running towards the water and leaving a spray of sand in her wake.

“Of course
you
can run. You’re not carrying anything,” he complained, but his mood was lifted.

Lately it seemed like when they were together they had little fun. Their time was mostly spent talking about work (his or hers) or him attempting to solve the many problems that plagued Taryn since her abilities deepened. The enjoyment of each other’s company they’d experienced as children and young adults often felt pushed to the wayside, ignored in favor of “real world” life and issues. For the first time in a long while they were able to relax, play in the sand, chase each other around, and act like they were a real couple.

While Matt floated on his back, enjoying his weightlessness in the salt water and the expanse of blue sky above him, Taryn walked along the shoreline, picking up shells and sand dollars. Occasionally they’d meet back on their blanket and apply liberal amounts of sunscreen to one another, sharing drinks and nibbling on fruit. They body surfed on the gentle waves together, Taryn always careful not to get too far out and Matt keeping his eye on her at all times, knowing she wasn’t a strong swimmer.

When the sun was high in the sky they returned to their blanket to rest, the back of Taryn’s head resting on his flat stomach so that she could watch the clouds. He brushed back her wet hair from her face with one hand and played with her fingers with the other. Taryn felt content and safe in a way that she rarely did when surrounded by people. The beach was quiet and empty. There wasn’t a single person in sight.

“It’s funny that the water bothers you sometimes, considering that you’re a water sign,” Matt mused at last.

“What? I like the water,” Taryn insisted. “I think it’s peaceful.”

“You like looking at it,” he corrected. “You don’t like being out on a boat, you definitely don’t like the big choppy waves when it storms, and you’re not big on swimming. You just like to kind of bob around in it.”

Well, that was true enough.

“Maybe I drowned in a past life,” she suggested. “Or something.”

“Have you ever considered the fact that you’re more drawn to fire than you are to water?”

Taryn turned on her side to face him. From that angle she thought he looked like a little kid again. It was both comforting and unnerving. “You think?”

“Sure,” he nodded. “When Nana used to burn her trash you’d always stand there and stare at the fire. I remember coming out of the house once with more boxes, and you were just standing there, not five feet away from the monstrous flames, and your hair was flying back out of your face. You were staring at it, kind of like ‘bring it on!’ You looked like the Firestarter or something. When I got up next to you the heat was so awful I had to take a few steps back. I don’t know how you stood it; you hadn’t even broken a sweat.”

“I don’t remember that,” Taryn frowned. Although, to be fair, her grandmother had burned her garbage a lot. Back then nobody cared as much. And Matt was always around offering to help out.

“And any time we’ve stayed someplace with a fireplace you always fall asleep in front of it, watching the logs,” he continued. “You have trouble sleeping alone and hate the dark but start a fire and you’re out like a baby.”

“Yeah, that’s true enough.”

“So maybe water is your birth sign but fire is your life sign. Or something,” he offered. “I don’t know a lot about those things.”

“You think that’s why I am so drawn to what happened at the hotel?” Taryn asked.

“Maybe. Or maybe that’s why it’s so drawn to you.”

Taryn would have to think about that some more.

“Hey, I have to get back and change and then run over to the hotel for a few minutes. You want to have a quickie here on the beach?” Taryn wagged her eyebrows up and down suggestively and traced a line over his chest with her finger.

The look of horror that flashed across Matt’s face had her laughing. “Here? In public?”

“Yes Matt, in front of all these people…” She gestured to the expanse of empty sand.

“I don’t know…all that sand everywhere…”

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t ask,” she warned him, rising to her feet. “I wanted to have sex, but you didn’t…”

“Hey now, that’s not fair,” he complained. “You knew I’d say no.”

They were still laughing and teasing one another after they’d packed up their bag and were walking through the woods back to her car.

Behind them, someone stood over the indentions they’d left in the sand. Fury permeated and bounced off them, creating waves of anger that rolled out in all directions. Overhead a seagull squawked in fear and decided against landing on that particular stretch of beach. The figure seethed and simmered, resentment filling them. And then they were gone.