Shaker Town (Taryn's Camera Book 4) (22 page)

“Yeah, okay, okay,” Matt replied calmly He was already trying to make a large turn so that he didn't have to go the length of the driveway. “Probably just some teenagers parked out here to get away from everyone. Just because we didn't do it doesn't mean others don't.”

Taryn tried taking deep breaths, telling herself that she was paranoid. Nothing was going to happen. Just because someone had already tried to kill her twice in the past year (the third time was just a misunderstanding) didn't mean she was cursed or that it was going to happen again. Still, thoughts of someone cooking meth in that house (and she'd almost explored it, too!) or checking on their marijuana patch or a hundred other things danced through her head. She wasn't anywhere near as young and brave as she used to be.

Matt was completely turned around and starting out to the main road when Taryn was able to breathe properly again. The moon was out now and lit up the pavement ahead of her like a spotlight. Gray slate had never looked better. She had the distinct feeling someone was watching her from the back and what she really wanted to do was high tail it out of there as quickly as she could. She didn't think she'd feel totally safe until she was back at the park.

The “thump” happened just feet from the exit and had them both jumping. It was dull and soft but the sound was unmistakable. “Oh my god, I've hit someone,” Matt muttered. Taryn covered her mouth and rocked back and forth in her seat. She was completely useless.

Matt quickly put the car in “Park” and began unfastening his seat belt. “Call 911,” he ordered her. “Tell them somebody's hurt.”

“What if they try to shoot us?” Taryn shrilled.

“I highly doubt the police are going to do that,” Matt remarked dryly.

He was already out of the car before Taryn could answer.

In a daze, she dug out her phone and dialed 911. The dispatch officer promised to send someone out right away and Taryn hung up, both worried and relieved. She could hear Matt talking softly to someone, using the soothing tone he often did with her when she was sad or didn't feel well, and her blood turned cold. Oh God, they
had
hit someone, maybe seriously injured them. But still, what in hell were they doing way out there in the middle of the night?

Leaving the keys in the ignition, Taryn slid out Matt's door (hers was up against a tree) and looked around. Matt was in front of the car; she could see the hairs on the top of his head catching the headlights. Between the brightness and the heat radiating from the bulbs, it gave an optical illusion of his head being on fire.

“There's a flashlight in the glove compartment,” he all but barked. “Can you get it?”

It
was
her car. She knew what was and wasn't in there. “No there's not,” she sputtered. I don't have a flashlight.”

“Yes you do. I put one in there last night. You're never prepared,” he lectured her.

The absurdity of the situation struck her as inappropriately humorous. There they were, standing under a dark canopy of trees where they'd probably run someone down, and they were arguing about a flashlight.

Sure enough, it was where he said it would be. He'd also neatly folded her road maps (she refused to have GPS and still liked darting into gas stations to get directions when she could) and had thrown away some of her garbage.

Now Taryn slid from the car a second time, flashlight in hand. “Are they going to be okay?” she called to Matt as she studied the driver-side door. She was having trouble figuring out if she should leave it open or close it–like that was the most pressing matter at the moment. She must have been in shock.

“I think so,” he answered. “Can you bring that here now?”

She'd not even taken a step when the sound of footsteps running through the brush cut through the night. “Oh God, oh God. What happened?!”

When Taryn turned, the beam of light she held in her hand focused on the figure who was now just a few feet from her. The look of terror and grief on his face was worse than the shock. He stared in horror at the front of the car where Matt squatted next to a limp figure, gently trying to feel for broken bones without moving them.

Taryn kept the flashlight on the new intruder. It illuminated his face and shone down on him like a beacon. “Dustin?” she asked conversationally, as though they were all simply out for an evening stroll. “What are you doing with that big pipe in your hand?”

I
t was five in the morning before Matt and Taryn made it back to the park.

“I'm going to take a long nap and then I'm going to take my easel out and do the last little bit,” Taryn yawned. “You get to the point where you know it's just time to go and move on to the next thing.”

“And what
is
the next thing?” Matt inquired as he slipped off his shoes and lowered himself to the bed. He ran his hand up her arm and she snuggled into him, her head on his chest.

“There are a few possibilities. Remember that fire that happened at that resort? It was way before either one of us was born, down at one of those islands in Georgia. A rich person's resort, killed something like fifty people?”

Matt nodded. ”The Monte Carlo Club. It still pops up every time one of those television stations does a countdown of the worst crowd tragedies or something. But I thought it was gone?”

“It is,” Taryn agreed. “They never rebuilt it. That was back in the 1920s and right after the fire the stock market crashed. The decadence and lifestyle kind of flew out the window, too. But anyway, some rich dude has bought half the island and wants to rebuild it on a smaller scale. They contacted me to work with the architect.”

“How much of it is left?” Matt asked.

“Almost none of it. It would be a long job, at least three or four months. Good, stable income and I'd get to live on an island for awhile.”

Matt opened his mouth and Taryn thought he might protest. If he did, if he asked her to return with him, or said he'd come to her in Nashville, she might turn the job down. She might go with him. That might be what was next. She was about to suggest it herself when he broke her thoughts and said, “You know, I think that's a great idea. And it's not too far away. I could probably come see you at least once. And you could come see me.”

Taryn was a little stunned. To see each other twice in three or four months? And it was only about a three-hour drive from Matt, another reason it appealed to her.

But she smiled thinly. “That's what I was thinking, too.”

But the elephant in the room, of course, eventually stomped.

“I can't believe it was Dustin and Lydia breaking into the houses and stealing from people,” Taryn swore. “I mean, we sat right here in this room and talked about it.”

“People slay me,” Matt agreed. “We all hide our true faces from the crowd.”

“Dustin looked so ashamed, and so petrified for his wife. I just wanted to hug him.”

“He's a thief,” Matt interjected. “He broke the law. A lot.”

“Oh, Dustin and Lydia aren't criminals,” Taryn argued. “Not in their arts. Maybe in their actions...Desperate times lead to desperate measures. They'll be out on bail soon and I want to see them.”

“You have a soft heart, Taryn. The reason you see your ghosts is because you're sensitive to everyone's plights, including the living.”

Taryn sighed. “And I cry and get angry at the drop of hat.”

“You take the good with the bad,” Matt said. “You don't get to turn one side off.”

Taryn settled back into her pillows and closed her eyes. Lydia was in the hospital. She had a slight concussion and broken arm but she'd be okay. NO charges were being pressed against Matt; it was an accident. A guard was stationed outside her door. Dustin was in the jail, although he'd been allowed to visit his wife. She thought they'd be out on bail soon, if they could find someone to post bail. Unfortunately, she didn't think there was anyone in their life who could do it. It was money that got them in the shape they were in in the first place.

“Why didn't they just declare bankruptcy?” Matt asked sleepily. She could tell he'd be out within seconds.

“Dustin said they tried, but the only kind they could get was the one where you have to pay it all back. It wasn't wiped off. And they still couldn't afford the monthly payments,” Taryn explained.

“And moving? For better jobs?”

“Their baby is buried here. They have ties to this place that go farther than just liking it and it being home. And with what money could they move? Relocating for a new job means renting a truck, getting a new place, putting down a deposit, turning on utilities...and if you don't have money to start with….”

Taryn was bitter. They were good people, just trying to do their best. They'd turned to stealing out of desperation. But at least they'd worked together; they were a team. And a tiny part of her was jealous of that.

The perfume bottle on her bureau rattled.

“
O
h my God, are you okay?” Julie squealed as she ran towards Taryn. The dining room was crowded but Julie pushed people aside to get to Taryn's table. “We all know everything.”

“I'm fine,” Taryn assured her. “Nothing happened to me at all. And Lydia will be fine.”

“I just can't believe it,” Julie moaned. “They're the ones who broke in on me and stole out of my house!”

Taryn flinched. “To be fair to you, it wasn't personal. They didn't know you'd moved. They never would've done that to someone they know.”

Julie caved. “Yeah, I know. They're my friends. They felt horrible when they found out and I don't think they were faking.”

Andy bustled in at that moment, his voice booming over the low roar of the crowd. “And to think,” he lamented to a small group following him. It was a fellow employee right here at Shaker Village who did it to me.”

As he slid past Taryn and Matt's table his volume grew. “Of course, they feel terrible about it. They're doing everything they can to make me comfortable.”

“I just bet,” Taryn muttered. “Of course he's going to milk this for all it's worth.”

The hostess seated Andy at the small, two-person table next to Taryn and Matt and she rolled her eyes. “I was really hoping to enjoy my breakfast this morning.”

“Oh, did you hear about the terrible thing?” Andy demanded. She thought his southern accent might have deepened a little, like a southern godfather's. “Oh, but of course you did. You were there after all. And to think you are the one who caught them in action!”

Taryn took a bite of biscuit and said nothing. The bread was dry in her mouth and stuck. She had to take a sip of orange juice to get it down but she put on a good front and acted like she was doing nothing but enjoying herself. “It's a bad thing all the way around,” she said primly and turned back to Matt and Julie.

“I just can't believe it, he moaned to the hostess. The tables around them had stopped talking, too, tuned into the Andy Show. “So many things they stole! My television, my computer, my tablet...”

“I thought they were just stealing house parts,” Matt interceded. “And they targeted yours because it was being worked on and open.”

Taryn laughed. It was true; Andy had not mentioned any of the electronics previously.

“Well, the good thing is that insurance is paying for everything and I can stay here, free of charge of course, for the next week,” he babbled. “Who knew, though, that the Friday night I was enjoying my one evening at the movies those thieves were cleaning me out. And I get out to enjoy myself so little these days...”

Julie, who had been listening with a disgusted look on her face, frowned. “Hey Andy? When did that happen to you?”

“Two weeks ago on Friday,” he replied. “I'll never forget it. The Kentucky Theatre up in Lexington was showing Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid that night and I treated myself.”

Julie crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. “Dustin and Lydia were with me that night. I remember because they came over and got me around 5:00 pm and then we all went out to dinner together. I brought my boyfriend with me because they hadn't met him yet. After dinner they came back to my house and we played cards until almost 2:00 am. Neither one of them was ever out of my house.”

Someone tittered nearby and Andy's face grew red. Carol, who'd walked up behind Taryn without her knowing it, stepped forward.

“Do you have proof of that Julie? A receipt or something?”

“Well, yeah,” she reckoned. “I have the restaurant receipt because Tristan paid. Oh, and my neighbor saw them leaving, too. He was letting his dog out while they were leaving and after what happened to me he was worried and checked in because he didn't know who they were.”

“Well, maybe it wasn't that night,” Andy sputtered, uncomfortable.

“Maybe you should think about that a little, Mr. Tribble,” Carol suggested harshly. “In the meantime, can you come up to my office for a minute?”

“He totally made that up,” Taryn said after they'd walked off, Andy's shoulders slumped. “He didn't get robbed at all.”

“That's some funny shit right there,” Julie hooted.

“The ironic thing is that he didn't lie because he wanted the insurance payoff,” Taryn said wonderingly. “I think he honestly did this to get free nights at the park. Dream big, man, dream big.”

The women laughed together and continued to make fun of the insufferable man until Matt finally interrupted them. “I don't mean to break up the party but I am really, really hungry. Think we can make something happen about that?”

T
aryn knew she'd have her paintings done by the end of the day. She'd probably need another day for touch ups but if she applied herself properly there was no reason she couldn't have them technically finished.

“I hate to leave you alone,” she apologized to Matt.

“It's okay,” he shrugged. “I’m going to walk around and take in the sights. Maybe work on a report I brought with me. I'll find ways of entertaining myself, I promise.”

It was not a good day for Taryn pain wise. From the moment she woke up her left hand had throbbed, swollen red with inflammation. The only relief she got was when Matt squeezed it, applying just a little bit of pressure. But he couldn't stay by her side all day, holding her hand. Her hip was back to throbbing, too, but she didn't want to take any medication for it. She tried to save it for days when the pain was really bad and sometimes the hard stuff left her feeling fuzzy headed and mushy. She wanted to be as clear headed as possible while she worked.

Despite the horrible thing that had happened the night before, and knowing that both Lydia and Dustin were arrested, the day was bright and warm, the sun shining down without a care in the world. It was true, Taryn thought with some bitterness. The world really did go on no matter what happened. Life was unsympathetic to the plights of others. They all might as well be ants, or the stone in Mother Nature's shoe.

Taryn painted straight through lunch and it was late afternoon before her stomach began to rumble. She ignored it and continued to press on. When she got in the zone, especially when the end was in sight, she didn't stop. Though her hands throbbed, her hip was stiff and sore, and her back was hunched forward from the pain, but she was afraid if she stopped she'd never be able to pick it back up again. She needed to do this.

The landscape on her canvas had sprung to life; it was as detailed as a photograph. The little schoolhouse's open door was welcoming, inviting everyone who wanted to come inside and stay a bit. The other two buildings were structurally solid, ready for work. The green grass spread out before them like a shag carpet, soft and lush. The large canvas, nearly three feet tall, looked ready to walk right into.

Taryn painted furiously, dipping her brush into the blobs of paint over and over again, and blending them with what was already there. The trees were nearly three dimensional, the sky bright enough to feel the sun.