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

by Rebecca Patrick-Howard

  This was no dream.

  With her bedroom door open she could see the flames in the living room, engulfing the chairs and leaving a burning trail into the dining room. The flames licked the ceiling in there, the black smoke rising and spreading into her bedroom.

  Taryn jumped from her bed and ran to the door, the thick smoke blinding her. The front door was ablaze, and as she looked towards the kitchen she saw in horror that the back exit was blocked as well. “Shit, shit!”

  Trying to remember everything she’d learned in her fire safety class in elementary school Taryn dropped to her knees and crawled back to her bed. She tried putting as much distance between herself and the smoke that would surely kill her before the flames. Quickly pulling a pillowcase from her pillow, Taryn tied it around her head, covering her nose and mouth. She found her sandals by the bed and slipped them on. Somewhere along the way she’d read that one should wear closed-toed shoes when they were flying so that, if there were a crash, they wouldn’t get cut on the debris. That felt relevant now, somehow.

  The nearest window was just a few feet away and Taryn crawled to it now. When she tried raising it, however, she found it wouldn’t budge.

  The first real waves of panic sank in and she was nearly blinded by fear as she dropped back to the ground and cried. The flames from the other room were getting closer now and she heard the sound of more glass breaking. She had to get out of there. Through the murkiness her grandmother’s ring sparkled, and Taryn suddenly felt a new burst of energy.

  She could do this.

  With new determination she crawled to the second window and tried it. It was also stuck. The lamp on her nightstand was heavy, so she pulled on the cord and yanked it from the wall. Using all her strength, she slammed it into the glass, yelling like a mad woman.

  Nothing happened.

  Something happened in the air just then, a shimmering that wasn’t caused by the fire. The air around her seemed to part for just a second and in the clearing the figure of a woman appeared. It was so brief that Taryn couldn’t be sure it was even real, but when the ethereal arm pointed towards the bathroom Taryn understood. As she stood to run from her bedroom the diary, still on the bed where she’d left it upon falling asleep, caught her eye. She grabbed it, stuffed it into the back of her pajama pants, and ran into the bathroom just as a cloud of flames burst into the bedroom behind her.

  The tiny window over the toilet was only about fourteen inches tall and twenty inches wide, but it was all she had. Balancing on the back of the toilet, Taryn pushed at the glass and screamed with relief when it opened, the cool night air rushing to her face. She thought she could hear someone calling her name from the outside, but she ignored it and focused on pulling herself up by her arms. Her bedroom was engulfed in flames now, the heat licking at her feet and legs. She kicked at it by instinct as she wiggled through the small opening, straining against the tight sides. When half of her body was out in the open, strong arms came from out of nowhere and grabbed hers. For a horrible instant she thought she’d be stuck but then the other arms pulled again and she was free.

  David caught her in his arms and began to run with her, his long hair wrapping around her shoulders. She continued to cough and cry as he hurried to the road. There were others there with him, faces she didn’t recognize. In Taryn’s confusion, she wouldn’t understand until much later that they were firefighters and that the second sound of shattering glass had been them breaking through the front door to get to her.

  “It’s okay,” David murmured, gently removing the pillowcase from her face. It was covered in black. “It’s okay.”

  In a wild panic, Taryn struck at him and pushed him away. “What are you doing here? Did you do this!? Did you try to kill me!?”

  David looked at her, hurt in his eyes. “No. No! I thought, I knew. I–“

  “Did you set the fire?!” Taryn screamed again.

  A man in a cumbersome hat and uniform walked up to her then. His face was streaked with black, his eyes red and watery. “Ma’am,” he spoke softly, tapping her on the shoulder. “Ma’am, your friend here saved you. He’s the one who called us. The police have the one who did this. He’s in the car over there.”

  Taryn turned and looked at the police cruiser parked in the middle of the road. Other people had filed out of the houses, watching her house go up in flames while the firefighter attacked it with the force of water, unlike anything she’d ever seen. Some were gathered around the cruiser, not hiding their curiosity as they looked inside.

  Taryn stepped away from David then and walked towards it, the diary still stuffed in her pajama bottoms. The people around her stepped aside as she neared them, some reaching out to touch her as she passed, offering their sympathy in quiet tones. When she reached the window she bent down and looked in.

  It wasn’t anger, but sheer disappointment and sadness that filled her when the familiar eyes gazed back at her.

  “Oh,” she said sadly, backing away.

  David strolled over to her and herded her back to where the detective and fire marshal were standing.

  “He works at the hotel, right?” the detective asked.

  When Taryn couldn’t answer, David nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “He’s the head valet. Steve Parkinson is his name.”

  Taryn burst into tears then, grief swelling inside of her.

  “Taryn? It’s okay,” David said, giving her a squeeze. “You got out. It’s okay.”

  “Not it’s not,” she sobbed, crying as if her heart would break. It would never be okay again.

  “Is it Steve?” he asked.

  “NO,” Taryn wailed. Lifting a shaking finger, she pointed at the smoldering inferno. “It’s my camera. Miss Dixie’s still in there. She’s gone. I’ve lost my best friend, David. I’ve just lost my best friend.”

  “It’s my fault,” Amy cried again. Taryn sat up in the hotel’s comfortable bed and hugged a pillow to her stomach. Amy had been with her for almost an hour and had, so far, done nothing but apologize. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know; I swear I didn’t know.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Taryn replied.

  Amy looked miserable. Her bloodshot eyes were glassy from crying and her pixie hair was disheveled, sticking up every which way. The day before, when Carla had visited her, she’d informed Taryn that Amy had apparently made a scene at the police station. She’d screamed at Steve and went so far as to picking up a stapler from a nearby desk and hurling it at him.

  They’d restrained her for his safety.

  “He knew where the spare key was to your house. He got in through the front door,” she spat in disgust.

  “Was it him–“

  “With the snake?” Amy finished.

  “And the alligator?” Taryn asked.

  Amy looked down at her feet, ashamed. “Yes,” she whispered.

  But it hadn’t been him who stole the memory card. That had been Carla’s brother. He’d been in the house with them when it went missing. Carla hadn’t expected Taryn back so soon and had made him hide, afraid she’d lose her job since he had a criminal record. When Taryn left the room he’d slipped out, but not without grabbing the card first.

  “I’m sorry Taryn,” Carla said the day before when she’d visited Taryn and returned it. “He saw the card on his way out. He thought you might have taken pictures that night on the beach when you found the sea turtle.”

  Like Amy, she’d been ashamed of her loved one’s part in it. Like Amy, she had also thrown a fit at the police station.

  “And for what?” Taryn asked bitterly. “For what? For a hotel?”

  “I know,” Amy nodded. “It’s ridiculous. When they found those pirates’ graves, though, and all of those artifacts the project manager knew they’d be held up for weeks, maybe months. He’d lose his bonus, the general manager was upset. You know how people get over money.”

  “So they paid their own crew to go in at night and remove what they could?” Taryn pressed.

 
“Yes. And Steve had been promised a good position there. Head of Guest Services. It was going to pay real well,” Amy dabbed at her eyes with her fingertips. “When they saw you there on the beach they thought you’d talk. He just meant to scare you. He wanted to impress his new boss.”

  “Um Amy, that’s more than just fetching coffee. That’s psychotic.” Taryn tried to be diplomatic in the way she pointed this out but failed.

  “He’s always been obsessed with money,” Amy agreed. “And sometimes he could be hateful. He, he was arrested for assault on his ex. But I just thought she was crazy. I guess she wasn’t. I guess this is him.”

  “I’m sorry,” Taryn said and did feel sorry for her. Amy had certainly dodged a bullet there. “But why did he come back last night? I was getting ready to leave.”

  “It wasn’t you; it was your friend.”

  “David?”

  “Yeah. That was my fault, too. I told him about the stuff David found. He went to his house to look for it and couldn’t. He thought maybe David had taken it to your house and might still be there. He was just going to scare you, he said. Get you to tell him where those things were. But he used too much gasoline and the fire got out of hand. He just ran.”

  Taryn shook her head in disgust. She thought she could come up with at least a dozen ways of getting someone to talk that were better than trying to smoke them out. It didn’t seem like the appropriate time to bring them up, though.

  “I’m real sorry about your camera, too,” Amy said, her eyes filling with tears again.

  Taryn hung her head and stared at her pillow. She couldn’t think about Miss Dixie. Every time she tried she broke out into sobs. It was crazy to think about an inanimate object that way, but they’d been through so much together. The thought of her beloved camera, charred and broken, unloved. The firemen hadn’t been able to find her yet. When they did, she wanted to give her a proper burial.

  Sometimes life was too hard.

  Ellen’s face flooded with relief when Taryn walked into her office.

  “Oh my dear, I was going to come to you. You didn’t have to come all the way over here,” she said as she ran out from behind her desk.

  Taryn shrugged, embarrassed. “I needed to give this back to you,” she said and handed Ellen the diary.

  Ellen took it in her hands and smiled. “All these years. The answers were right in front of our noses. Who knew? You’ve provided a valuable service to us, Miss Magill. And poor Mr. Hawkins.”

  “Poor Mr. Hawkins,” indeed. He hadn’t murdered his wife at all. It had all been a terrible accident, and he’d been a willing victim to the gallows, fearing for his child’s life and protecting the ones he loved.

  “It’s a sad love story really,” Taryn mused thoughtfully.

  Ellen nodded her agreement. “It truly is. We might never know who threatened him, and why. But what a fine man he was to do what he did. How brave.”

  Taryn concurred. “And the ghost story about the candle on the grave…”

  “To protect his poor little wife from the dark she was so very much afraid of,” Ellen murmured. “Our island is a place of beauty and mystery. But also of sadness. You can’t have a place full of this much history without getting the bad along with the good.”

  Taryn knew that to be true.

  A knock on the door came then and Amy stuck her head in the office. “The gentlemen are here to see you Mrs. Russo,” she said nervously. Amy still acted nervous around Taryn, as though she wasn’t sure how to behave. Taryn hoped in time she’d come to realize that she was just as much of a pawn as everyone else.

  “Show them in, Amy,” Ellen ordered. She then turned to Taryn. “I was going to bring them to you but now that you’re here…I am sure you’ll want to hear what they have to say.”

  The men who entered the office were dressed in business suits and impeccably groomed. Taryn recognized expensive clothes and quality leather Italian shoes when she saw them. They shook Ellen’s hand first and then Taryn’s. Once they were all seated, the older of the two began to speak.

  “Miss Magill,” he began in an authoritative tone, “we’re from the Richfield Group and own the hotel and condo property going up on the other side of the island.”

  Taryn nodded, confused. She had no idea where this was going.

  “We’re aware of your situation and have spoken to Mrs. Russo here. Between us, we’ve all tried to come up with something that can repay you for your suffering.”

  The younger man, a pale gentleman with a thick head of light blond hair spoke up quickly, “Although we know nothing we can do would ever repay you for everything you went through…”

  “Yes, well,” the other man continued. “We think we’ve reached a conclusion that might help. Mrs. Russo here would like to extend you the opportunity to stay in the hotel until Labor Day if you’d wish, free of charge of course.”

  “All your meals, access to the water park, carriage rides, whatever you’d like would be covered,” Ellen smiled warmly.

  Taryn’s heart nearly stopped beating as she looked back and forth at the other adults in the room.

  “If that is not to your liking, we would also like to offer you accommodations at one of our properties,” the older man resumed his speech. “We have hotels and rentals all over the world. Or, you could choose to remain here on the Golden Isles. We have fourteen rental homes over on Saint Simon’s and I am positive we could find something that would suit you.”

  Taryn’s heart began to beat furiously. Stay there until Labor Day?

  “Of course, we would also like to provide all your meals and entertainment, wherever you go,” the younger man added.

  Taryn tried not to show any excitement. After all, they were offering this because, between the two companies, their employees had tried to kill her.

  While they let the proposition sink in, the older man reached into his briefcase and pulled out an envelope. “And this, of course, is for your trouble,” he said, handing it over to her. Taryn accepted it in trembling hands. “Of course, this is not to replace the previous offer. This is in addition to it.”

  Not to be outdone, Ellen fumbled around on her desk and produced an envelope of her own. “And this is from us,” she declared, handing it to Taryn.

  Taryn, dumfounded, sat in her leather chair holding both envelopes in her hand. She had no idea what to do. Was she meant to open them then and there? “So do I need an attorney or something?”

  The three of them laughed then, quick nervous sounds that amused Taryn. Yes, she probably did need an attorney. But Taryn wasn’t that kind of person.

  Rather than opening the envelopes there in the room, she stuck them in her knapsack. “I appreciate your offers, but I’d like some time to think about them if that’s okay.”

  “Perfectly fine,” Ellen replied.

  Taryn stood then and, in a daze, said goodbye to everyone. She was still in a daze as she walked across the grounds towards San Souci, the annex that held her hotel room.

  David was waiting for her on the porch.

  “Hey there,” he said shyly as Taryn neared the steps.

  “Hey,” she replied, feeling awkward. She still felt terrible about accusing him of setting fire to the house.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  Taryn nodded and then grinned. “I think I just got paid off for everyone’s workers trying to kill me.”

  “How’d you make out?” he teased.

  “I don’t know yet,” she replied. “I’m still too surprised to look.”

  “Listen, about what happened…”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Taryn said. “I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. Are we good?”

  “We’re good,” he said.

  “In that case, there’s someplace I want to go. You up for a ride?”

  Chapter 25

  “You’ve still got your wheels, I see,” David laughed as they turned out onto Riverview Road.”

  “Yep. They gave them to me,” T
aryn grinned.

  “Dang. What do I have to do to get one of these babies?”

  “Well, you apparently have to wake up with a snake in your bed, get chased by an alligator, and have someone try to burn you alive.”

  David shrugged, his long hair streaming behind them as Taryn picked up speed. “Eh, I’ve done worse for money.”

  “That’s what this was all about, wasn’t it?” Taryn mused. “Money.”

  “That’s what most everything is about these days it seems. So hey,” David said lightly, changing the mood. “I’m staying on a few more months. I’m going to head the excavation here.”

  “What?” Taryn asked in surprise, glancing over at him in delight. “Well, that’s awesome! So were the remains they found native?”

  “Depends on your definition of ‘native’,” he joked. “It looks like they were pirates. Either way, they’ve been here longer than us.”

  “I thought you worked with Native American history though.”

  “I’m an archeologist. I work with all of it. It’s just that Creek Indians are my specialty. This is a major job. It wouldn’t normally go to someone low down on the totem pole, no pun intended, like me. So I guess helping you out of the fire had advantages to me as well.” David reached over and patted her on the leg. “Not that I wouldn’t have tried to save you anyway, of course.”

  “So why were you at the house that night? It was two in the morning. I hope you weren’t trying for a booty call,” she teased him.

  He might have blushed, but his face was so dark it was hard to tell. “If I tell you, you might not believe me.”

  “Try me,” she challenged.

  “Someone had broken in on me that evening. I’d spent most of the night at the police station. They really ransacked the place. I’m guessing they were looking for the artifacts, but I’d already taken care of that. I spent the afternoon over in Brunswick, renting one of those climate-controlled storage units and putting them someplace safe.”

  So that’s why I couldn’t find him all day, Taryn thought to herself.