“I know, I know. I shouldn’t have taken anything but I need proof,” he declared as he straightened and began pacing again. “I knew they’d find something. I wonder how long it’s been going on.”
Taryn kept mum about her own experience and gingerly ran her fingers along the handle of what looked like a knife. “I don’t know. Are you going to tell anyone?”
“Well yes, of course,” he answered. “In the morning. It’s just…have you seen anything going on?”
His penetrating gaze cut through her to her soul and Taryn shifted away her gaze, pretending to study the tiny skull. A warning bell went off in her head. What if David was lying? What if he was in on it? What if he was behind the whole thing and, rather than trying to help preserve he was a grave robber, and they were doing this for him? He could be fishing for details from her, trying to ascertain how much she knew.
It could happen.
Or, then again, it was possible she’d just been watching too much television.
“No, nothing,” she answered at last. “I haven’t seen a thing.”
Chapter 20
Ivy House was finished.
Taryn had the painting safely tucked away in its case back at the house. For good measure, she’d slid the case under the couch. She was paranoid and knew it, but there was something rotten in the state of Denmark. Until she could figure out what it was, she wasn’t going to take any chances, especially where her paintings were concerned.
She was sad that this was her last day with Adena Cottage. She really felt like the two of them had bonded.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she set up her easel. “I don’t know what you want. I’m trying.”
It made zero sense to her that it was the hotel that had burned, yet it was the cottage calling to her. She’d put the majority of her attention on the hotel and had received nothing in return. Why the cottage?
“You escaped the fire,” she muttered aloud, dabbing at the sky above the slanted roof. “You didn’t fall in until much later. What happened here?”
She’d gone through a dozen scenarios.
Rachel was actually murdered in the house (not the hotel) and her body was hidden in her room to cover it up.
William had been having an affair with Georgiana in the cottage and had killed his wife to get her money and be with his mistress (the most logical explanation).
Some kind of secret meeting was held in the house and they’d plotted Rachel’s murder there. (That seemed unlikely. She’d found nothing that pointed to Rachel’s involvement in anything.)
And, well, that was all she had. Basically nothing.
Taryn had never before been involved in such a convoluted mess. It was stressing her the hell out.
“Look,” the house whispered, and Taryn stopped and looked up.
Adena Cottage was quiet, unassuming. A light breeze had the Spanish moss dangling above her swaying gently back and forth. A large European hornet attacked a blossoming bush a safe ten feet away. The trolley tour ambled down the road, the echo of the guide’s voice reverberating through the speaker’s static. The dank, thick smell of the nearby marsh mixed with the sweetness of the magnolias.
“Look.” The honeyed feminine voice wafted through the gentle breeze and wrapped itself around Taryn, demanding something of her she couldn’t give.
“Look at what?” she cried, throwing down her brush in anger. “What do you want me to look at?”
Miss Dixie rested on the ground beside her, her strap wrapped around Taryn’s foot. She didn’t like taking chances with her camera, either. The strap tightened now and squeezed her ankle, the pressure sending a shooting pain up her leg. Like a vine, the strip of fabric climbed higher and higher until it reached her thigh and the camera was dangling in the air, brushing her foot.
“Look.” The voice was sharper now, demanding.
Taryn swallowed hard and with shaking hands reached down and tugged at the strap, loosening it from her leg and gently pulling it away. She held it in her hands now and studied the LCD screen. She’d already taken hundreds of pictures of the cottage. There was nothing left to look at.
Still…something was insisting that there was.
“This is it,” Taryn said with more conviction than she felt. “This is your last chance. If you have something to show me, then you’re going to have to do it now.”
Taryn moved around the house one last time, taking pictures in a steady rhythm as she tried, once again, to go over every inch. She even aimed the camera at the lawn, figuring this time she’d cover all the bases. When she finished, she returned to the golf cart where the top offered a slight shield and allowed her to see her screen more plainly.
Nope, nothing. There wasn’t a single thing that stood out in her pictures. They were all ordinary shots.
“I tried, okay?” she grumbled, strolling back to her canvas. “I did my best. There’s nothing there.”
“Did you finish your painting lovey?” Eldean smiled indulgently at Taryn as she poured her another glass of ice cold sweet tea. It had taken Taryn awhile to be able to drink tea again after what happened to her at Windwood Farm, but she loved it so much that she couldn’t give it up forever.
“Yep,” Taryn replied, patting the case beside her. “Finished it this afternoon.”
“Wonderful! But I gather that means you’ll be leaving us soon.”
Taryn nodded. “I’m leaving in three days, Sunday. I hate to go. I’m starting to feel settled here.”
“It happens,” Eldean smiled, her eyes crinkling. “That’s why so many people are building over on St. Simon’s.”
Taryn was surprised at just how settled she really was feeling. There was still a darkness that ate at her, still an undercurrent of something that nipped at her skin when she was out at night. A general feeling of uneasiness still frequently fell over her and threatened to unsettle her.
And yet…
She thought about sitting out on the back patio, watching the fireflies and smelling the marshes and the peace that came with having her own space.
Of walking along the sandy beach, the one that felt like it was all hers, and watching the waves roll in while she picked up sand dollars.
Of driving to Brunswick for groceries or visiting the farmer’s market by the roundabout over on St. Simon’s. Of how much fun it had been to cook in her own kitchen, the hot smell of supper drifting through the rooms of her tiny house.
Walking under the Spanish moss as she unloaded her art supplies from her golf cart and listening to the sounds of children’s laughter and bicycle wheels speed by while she painted.
Going for the late afternoon bike rides of her own, feeling the wind in her hair and the invigorating pull of muscles in her calves.
She hadn’t hurt nearly as much since she’d been down there. If she could just learn to live with the spirits, learn how to cast away the darkness better…could she learn to be happy there?
Taryn’s phone dinged just then and she pulled it out and checked her messages.
“Hey doll! I found something else out about our Mr. Hawkins. Check your email. Matt.”
Since her food hadn’t made it yet, Taryn pulled her laptop out and fired it up. That was the third thing she wasn’t taking any chances with that day, either. All of her photos were saved on it. If someone got ahold of it, why, it would feel like she’d lost half of her life. She still hadn’t found her other memory card.
When her inbox popped up on the screen she opened Matt’s latest message and read:
“Hello my queen! So, more digging on my end…I have something new for you. Remember how I said we knew next to nothing about William’s family? As it turns out, there was a reason. He apparently had a daughter out of wedlock. She was four years old at the time of his death and lived in Boston, Massachusetts. His financial records show that he sent money back to her mother each month. Of course, I have no idea if Rachel knew about this but it is obvious that this was an affair he had. I suppose at least we c
an say he tried to do the right thing. Write back soon! Love you. Matt.”
“Well,” Taryn said out loud as Eldean placed a Cobb salad in front of her.
“Everything okay dearie?” her server asked, glancing at her computer. “Bad news?”
“Weird news,” Taryn corrected her absently. “Hey, you might know something about this. William Hawkins?”
“The jackass who burnt the hotel down?” Eldean nodded? “What about him?”
“Did you know he had a daughter? That he’d had an affair?”
Eldean’s forehead creased while she considered this and then smoothed out again. “Nope, can’t say that I did. Don’t surprise me none, though.”
“Yeah, nothing surprises me anymore,” Taryn agreed. “Oh well.”
As Eldean walked away and Taryn attacked her salad it made her laugh to think that Matt had been able to dig that up. How did he accomplish such things? Had Rachel found out about his child and threatened a divorce? Would that have been possible in that day and time? Taryn didn’t know.
When Eldean came back to clear her plates, Taryn thanked her. Eldean waited longer than necessary, though, and watched as Taryn shut down her laptop. “Say, I was wondering,” she began shyly.
“Yeah?”
“Could you show me your painting? I mean, if it isn’t too much trouble?”
Taryn smiled. “Sure. You can tell me what you think.”
She unzipped her portfolio bag and carefully removed it. Carrying it over to a nearby table, she moved back the salt and pepper shakers and smoothed it out, using the shakers to hold down the edges. “Okay,” she said when she was ready. “Tell me what you think.”
Eldean walked over and studied the painting. She looked at it long and hard and then finally let out a deep whistle. “Wowee! That is really something else. No wonder they hired you! Looks like you could walk right through the front door!”
It was the best kind of praise Taryn could receive. “Thank you!”
“I mean, look at that,” Eldean continued in awe. “That tree right there looks so real you can feel the breeze blowing the moss. And the porch is three dimensional, like you could walk right on it. How’d you do that?”
Before Taryn could answer, Eldean was moving on to something else. “And the windows? You even made the clouds reflected in them. Very clever of you! And I especially like the touch of her standing there with the Bible in her hand!”
Taken aback by her last words, Taryn leaned forward and looked at where Eldean was pointing.
“B-but–“ Taryn stammered.
“Everything looks so real,” Eldean gushed. She gave Taryn a big thump on the back that nearly sent her into the table.
Taryn, unable to speak, couldn’t tear her eyes away from her painting. Sure enough, in the top window stood a young woman. She was almost certain it was Georgiana. Although she had no memory of painting her and was certain that the figure hadn’t been there that morning, Georgiana was plainly staring out the window right at the viewer, a thick book in her right hand.
Considering that she was only meant to come out twice a month, when she got back to the house Taryn was surprised to find Carla stomping around her living room. As she muttered to herself she waved a dust rag in one hand a bottle of furniture polish in the other.
“Hey Carla,” Taryn called, trying to balance her laptop, knapsack, and portfolio case. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” Carla fumed, taking an angry swipe at the television stand before quickly moving on to the coffee table. “Sorry, just agitated.”
“Okay. No problem. Been there.”
Taryn put everything on the floor and then began taking her laptop from its case. “Are you not coming in next week or something?”
“No.” Carla blew a stray strand of hair from out of her eyes and then slumped her shoulders. “I just had something on my mind and forgot that I’d already been here. Figured while I was here I’d just go ahead and clean.”
“Gotcha.” Taryn desperately wanted to ask her about her missing memory card but didn’t want to offend her if she hadn’t really bothered it. She hoped there would be a way to slide it into the conversation later.
“So your fellar seemed nice,” Carla remarked, her voice softening some.
“Yeah, he’s a keeper,” Taryn replied absently as she opened her inbox. She had a million things to do, but first she wanted to write Matt and tell him about the figure in Adena’s window. The hotel office was already closed so she’d wait and take the paintings there in the morning. She needed to frame them at any rate. Steve had delivered the ornate gilded monstrosities before she left for New Hampshire and they were currently propped up against her dining room wall.
“Are you okay?” Carla asked tentatively.
Taryn glanced up and saw that the other woman had stopped cleaning and was staring at her with interest.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind, you know?” Taryn replied with a wave of her hand.
“Uh huh.” Carla did not appear convinced. “Hey, when I got here you had a visitor.”
“Really? Who?”
“Tall, good-looking Indian guy. Indian as in tee-pees and tomahawks, not as in people from the subcontinent,” she specified with a grin. “Kind of a hottie if you’re into that sort of thing.”
Taryn frowned. “That’s David. He’s here to keep an eye on the hotel builders. He works in preservation too, in another kind of way. Did he say what he wanted?”
“Nope, but it was weird,” Carla relayed, her forehead creased as she remembered the incident. “He was in your backyard when I got here. Walked around from the back of the house and made me jump a mile. Spoke for a second then got on his bike and rode away. Seemed distracted.”
Worried now, Taryn put her computer aside and settled back into her chair. “Did he say what he was doing in the back?”
“Nope. Just that he was looking for you. I don’t know, maybe he knocked and when you didn’t answer he thought you were out back. I mean, your golf cart was gone. He should’ve known better,” Carla pointed out. “He was kind of short. Not rude, but like he was worried about something. His hands were real dirty, too. So was his shirt.”
Taryn wondered if he’d been up all night and returned to the building site to poke around some more. She’d almost convinced herself that he was in on the crime she’d witnessed and had made up his own story about seeing the people just to see if she’d give anything away. Now, however, she worried that perhaps he’d been telling the truth and now he was in over his head.
“Carla, do you know anything about that new hotel going up?”
It might have been her imagination, but Carla seemed to avert her eyes for a minute and glance down at the floor, a slight blush rising up her neck. She quickly composed herself, however, and smiled lightly. “Not any more than anyone else. My brother works there. Says the general manager and project manager are real assholes, pardon my French. But that’s all I know.”
“What does your brother do?”
“He’s construction. He does foundations, you know? Footers and stuff. The early work.”
Taryn nodded. “I briefly dated a guy who did that after my husba–my finance,” she corrected herself, “passed away. They make good money.”
Carla shrugged again and looked uncomfortable. “He does okay. Could always do better I guess. It’s hard for him to keep a job.”
Taryn took a deep breath then and decided to go for it. “Has he said anything about maybe, oh I don’t know, finding anything while they’ve been excavating and digging around?”
This time, she was certain Carla’s discomfort was not in her imagination. Not only did she stare at her feet, but she also began wringing the cleaning rag through her hands until her fingers were coated with the amber polishing oil. Finally, she exhaled quietly and said, “No, not really. Just a bunch of old shells and stuff. You know. What you usually find when you dig around here.”
Taryn was convinced now that
Carla knew something she wasn’t sharing. She also knew when to stop, though.
“So you guys have lived around here your whole life?” Taryn asked, changing the subject.
Carla looked visibly relieved, and Taryn watched as her face relaxed. “Yeah, yeah. There’s six of us in my family. Big family, you know? My two youngest sisters are in college. One’s going to be a nurse,” she said proudly. “She’ll be the first one of us to graduate. The other one is going to be a teacher.”
“Wow, that’s really nice,” Taryn said encouragingly, and she meant it. “I bet your mama is real proud.”
Carla nodded eagerly and wiped her oil-stained hands on her work pants, leaving behind streaks of yellowish brown. She reached into her pocket then and pulled out her phone. After clicking on it a few times, she found what she was looking for.
“Look,” she said proudly, walking towards Taryn and holding her phone out. “Here’s my whole family.”
Taryn leaned over and looked at the screen as Carla pointed. “That’s my two sisters, my oldest brother Timmy and his kids and wife. My youngest brother Dewayne, he’s in the army, and that’s Johnny. He’s the one working the construction. He’s had a hard time, you know, in and out of rehab a few times and did a stint in jail for six months but he’s clean now,” she added in a rush. “He’s really trying this time.”
Taryn nodded absently, but she knew the color had drained from her face.
Carla’s brother Johnny, the construction worker and former addict, was the same man she’d seen digging around in the dark. The same one she’d almost run over that very afternoon.
Chapter 21
“Stunning,” Ellen gushed for the third time in as many minutes. “Absolutely stunning.”
Taryn bristled with pride, feeling the tips of her ears grow warm as she watched her current boss nearly touch her nose to the canvas and then back away again, continuing to study Adena Cottage. Amy stood off to the side and sent Taryn a wide grin and comical wink.
Jekyll Island: A Paranormal Mystery (Taryn's Camera Book 5) Page 19
