Taryn's Camera: Dark Hollow Road Part 3

After walking the perimeter and taking a few casual shots of the house, grounds, and sky she ducked into the thicket of trees. There were several paths in the woods, made by four-wheelers if she were to guess since the deep ruts were parallel to one another.

Inside the trees the air was still and not as cold since the wind had trouble penetrating the thickness. Still, she huddled deeper inside her jacket. Taryn didn't mind being by herself on a walk; indeed, she enjoyed it. There were few things she liked better than being alone with her thoughts, taking walks, and capturing pictures. With her ongoing dialogue with herself, sometimes aloud, she sometimes worked out her problems.

Not that she really felt like she had any problems at the moment. Her bills were all paid, for once, and she even had a little extra spending money.

But, like most women, Taryn was a brooder and a thinker and it was hard for her to be content; she was always worrying about something. Had she remembered to turn the stove off when she left? What would she do for money once THIS job ended? Where was her relations.h.i.+p with Matt going? She needed to get up to her Aunt Sarah's house and see what needed to be done about the estate and that was weighing on her mind. Why did she continue getting these awful headaches and were her joints really hurting more than usual? Was her favorite character on her favorite television show really going to get killed off? Who all did she need to send Christmas cards to this year?

She was so lost in her thoughts she didn't realize how far she'd gone or how long she'd been out until she stopped and looked behind her and couldn't see the entrance where she'd come in. The sky was growing gloomier overhead, it was getting darker faster these days, and her toes and fingers were growing numb. A glance at her watch showed her she'd been out for more than an hour. Matt might be back by now, or at least on his way home, and she was hungry.

Taryn was just about ready to turn around and start back, when something up ahead caught her eye. The light was a little brighter there and the trees thinner, suggesting an opening. Thelma had told her there wasn't another house or business for miles and she knew she hadn't walked that farmaybe half a mile at most. Curious, she quickened her pace and continued on. Although she a.s.sumed it was probably just a field, Taryn was feeling a little adventurous and when Matt got home she wanted to be able to say she'd done something with her time while he was gone.

Only it wasn't just a field. When she reached the clearing, the land opened out in front of her and revealed a farmhouse.

It wasn't architecturally interesting by any means, and certainly hadn't been lived in for many years, but Taryn was instantly drawn to it. An old, abandoned farmhouse? That was just her thing.

Taryn walked closer, snapping pictures as she neared the structure. It was in remarkably good shape from the outside, despite the fact that the once white faade was now a dingy gray and the windows had almost all been broken out, leaving shards of gla.s.s on the ground that she had to tiptoe around.

The roof was missing some pieces and there was a gaping hole over the back, but the porch was st.u.r.dy and when she stepped on it, none of the boards buckled under her weight. The front door was missing, letting her peek inside. It was definitely empty, but she didn't feel like exploring any farther at the moment. She'd save that for another day, a day when she was trying to find something to do with herself. She might want to take pictures, after all, and the current lighting situation was not ideal.

About one hundred feet away to the left of the house she caught the remnants of a bonfire pit, complete with blackened beer cans and food wrappers. Logs were positioned around it in a circle. Multiple tracks in the gra.s.s suggested a variety of vehicles coming and going to this spot. In front of the porch was a very large stack of wood, suggesting more activity to come. A popular party site, then, although it didn't appear to have been used for a while. The house didn't look to be damaged by anyone; the windows could have come out for a variety of reasons. There were no signs of vandalism.

Hands on her hips, Taryn surveyed her surroundings with an eye for detail. It was a beautiful spot, isolated enough from the main road to offer quite a bit of privacy and flanked by the woods and fields. The remains of a barn could be seen in the distance, and Taryn could imagine a time when this had been a working farm with a rich vegetable garden, grazing cattle, and maybe even horses running through the tall gra.s.s. If she closed her eyes she could catch the smell of bacon wafting out of the house on Sunday morning, see a lazy hound dog sunning himself on the porch, hear the flapping of towels and sheets as they dried on the line. This had once been a home and a family had lived here, laughed here, and worked here. Now it was empty, nothing more than a vacant sh.e.l.l. It made her sad in the pit of her stomach.

Before it got too dark Taryn walked around a little more and took pictures of the towering chimneys, littered fire pit, and deep tracks in the gra.s.s. Then, realizing she'd spent far more time than she'd planned, she turned and headed back for the woods. It had been quiet while she walked around the remains of the farm, almost eerily so, but the moment she stepped inside the trees the silence was cut by a wail so deep and loud it penetrated her down to the bones and made her jump nearly out of her skin. In shock, she turned around, fully expecting to see a woman standing just feet from her, clearly in agony. But there wasn't another soul for as far as she could see. The farmhouse, dark and dreary against the pale sky, was the only thing watching her. And if it had secrets, it wasn't talking.

Without another thought, Taryn turned back to the woods and began moving her feet as quickly as she could.

Matt was waiting for her inside when she got back to the cabin. "It's not our imaginations," she proclaimed as she burst through the front door, her cheeks flushed and cold.

He'd been sitting in one of the overstuffed recliners but stood up as she drew closer to him. She thought she could see a trace of worry of his face and silently cursed herself for not leaving him a note. She wasn't used to living with another person who might care where she took off to.

"What do you mean?"

Taryn gently unwound Miss Dixie from around her neck and placed her on the coffee table. She let Matt help her with her jacket and boots while she talked.

"The sounds and stuff we heard? It's not just our imaginations and it isn't nature getting the best of us. I heard something today, real close. Oh! And I found a house," she added. Stopping for a moment, she turned and faced the kitchen and sniffed pointedly. "Food. I smell food."

"Chinese take-out," he waved in the general direction of the kitchen. "What did you hear? And what house? How far did you go?"

Trailing behind her, he followed her into the kitchen and watched while she helped herself to the cartons he'd lined out on the counter. "About a half-mile maybe? Not as far as I thought I'd gone at first. And the house is an old farmhouse, empty. Looks like it's been that way for a long time. And the noise was definitely a scream. Or a shout. But something of that nature."

She waited while he fixed himself a plate and then they traipsed into the dining room. He'd already poured gla.s.ses of wine and they were waiting on the table. "Oh, man," she apologized, realizing the trouble he'd gone to. "Sorry about making you wait. I actually thought I'd beat you back here."

"Don't worry about it. So the scream or shout... male? Female? Age?"

She hadn't realized how famished she was until she took the first bite and then she didn't want to stop. "Don't know," she shrugged, trying not to talk with her mouth full but unwilling to slow down. "A woman if I had to bet money."

"Scared?"

"Maybe. Same as before."

Matt gazed down at his spring rolls and noodles and contemplated. "If the house is old then there's the chance something could've happened there. That might explain what we've been hearing here."

She nodded, took a sip of wine. "Yeah, I thought about that. I wonder what it means, though."

"Maybe it doesn't mean anything."

Taryn sighed and downed the rest of her wine. "You mean you think maybe"

"That maybe you're just going to have to accept the fact you're tuned in to these things now, and they're going to be on your radar. Or you're going to be on theirs, depending on how you look at it. Not everything is going to mean you have to do something about it."

"Yeah, I get what you're throwing down," Taryn smiled.

"Are we gangster now?" Matt laughed, his eyes bright and warm.

"Just making sure you're still paying attention."

"The man on the beach last month..." He let his voice trail off, and Taryn lost herself in the memory. It was sunset and they'd been on Ormond Beach, taking a walk. She preferred that stretch of sand because it was rarely crowded, almost dead in the late fall, and it was a place where she could stroll and get her feet in the sand without stepping on anyone, or anything, like a beer bottle.

Matt had walked beside her, the wind whipping his hair and throwing it in his eyes. He'd been humming that Kenny Chesney song about the summer romance, the line about Mary liking to carry her shoes in her hand to feel the sand under her feet. Between the pleasant sound of his singing and the gentle lapping of the water against the sh.o.r.e she'd felt peaceful, despite the chill.

It had been a good moment, all in all. Then there'd been a man up ahead of them. His back was to them and he was staring at the water. Nothing unusual about him. Taryn had instantly felt for him though, the way his shoulders slumped and the distant look on his face as he watched the waves. Matt didn't seem to notice him. They were within fifty feet of the stranger when she'd looked over at Matt to say something, make some joke. Then, when she looked back, the man was gone. She hadn't seen him disappear; one minute he'd been there and the next minute he hadn't.

"That time it didn't mean anything, probably," she agreed. "I never saw him again, he didn't say anything to me. It was just a moment."

"And you will probably have more of them," he concluded.

Taryn thought about his, mulled it around her head. "Yeah, but you didn't see the guy. And you heard or felt something here. That might mean something," she pointed out at last.

"It might," Matt agreed. "But until it does, let's try not to make a big deal out of it and just enjoy ourselves."

Taryn intended on enjoying herself. She enjoyed her dinner, her extra gla.s.s of wine, the nice long bubble bath she took while Matt cleaned up (hey, he insisted and she wasn't going to argue), and even enjoyed putting her notes together for her next cla.s.s. While she went over them and perfected her Power Point presentation, she let her pictures from that afternoon upload. It wasn't late yet and she had plenty of time to play around with some of them, if any happened to be any good.

Closing down her presentation and exiting out of the web browser she was using for research, Taryn popped her knuckles and stretched her arms over her head. The pictures were finished uploading and she could take a look at them.

It only took two of them to pop up on her screen before she jumped up off the bed and let her feet hit the floor with a thud. "Matt!" she called down the stairs, letting her voice rise over the sounds of Shakira. Matt liked to dance while he cleaned, something she found endlessly entertaining. "Matt!"

"Yeah?" he hollered back, gliding out into the living room in his socks. "What's up?"

"Come on up here. I think we can start making a big deal out of it now."

Chapter 6.

In the past, Taryn had always emailed her pictures to Matt so that he could take a look at them and help her try to figure out what was going on. This was the first time he'd ever been there in person, a front seat ticket to all the action. If he was shocked he wasn't showing it, although he did crawl onto the bed and sit as close to the computer screen as possible, his brows furrowing and his fingers tapping repeatedly in a frenzied pattern on his knee.

"Well," he nodded at last. It was a statement.

Taryn, looking at his face to get his reaction rather than the computer screen, let out a big sigh. "So what do you think?"

"It's hard to say," he muttered. "I mean..."

Taryn let out a grim laugh. "I know what you mean."

Her pictures of the house showed nothing but the way it looked now. Her pictures of the bonfire debris, however, were another story. Standing on the edge of the charred sticks and logs, the faded beer cans, and cigarette stubs was the image of a young woman, maybe even a teenager. Her long black hair was tied up at the nape of her neck in a ponytail. Her legs extended from a pair of shorts and ended in cowboy boots. A jacket was tied around her waist. By the way she was staring at the fire (which, in the picture, was roaring and shooting its flames up into the sky) she looked pensive, possibly even worried.

The image was much clearer than other shots Taryn had taken in the past. Even the details of her jacket and s.h.i.+rt were plain. Except for the fact that in a few places you could see through her to the trees and barn on the other side of the fire, at first glance she might've looked like a real, living person.

The mystery girl was in one more shot. In this one, she sat crossed-legged in the gra.s.s, her hair down and spilling around her shoulders, almost touching the ground. Her face could be seen in full detail in this one and while it was an exceedingly pretty face, she appeared tired with just a touch of sadness. She leaned forward, her head resting on her hands, her elbows on her knees. Her jacket was on in this one, her hair loose around her shoulders.

There wasn't anyone else in any of the other pictures.

"She looks young," Taryn offered. "I'd say a teenager maybe. Very pretty."

"Do you think she's..." Matt couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Dead?" Taryn supplied for him. "Maybe. My first thought would be something someone who used to go there a lot, has a special tie to the place."

"What about the bonfire?" Matt mused.

"That's creepy as h.e.l.l," Taryn muttered. The thought of the pretty young girl losing her balance and falling into the flames (or worse, pushed) was terrifying.

Taryn herself was nervous around fires. She liked to watch pretty ones in a nice, contained fireplace with a smoke alarm and fire extinguisher handy nearby but she didn't really get into the whole bonfire thing. The way it could grow taller and taller, reaching for the sky, with little to contain it was something Taryn couldn't get onboard with. Not to mention the heat. Despite the fact she couldn't swim, she preferred the water, although that opened up a whole other can of fears for her.

Matt busied himself by flipping through the pictures one by one, just in case Taryn had missed something. He couldn't find anything.

Unable to reach any kind of conclusion, Taryn sighed. "I think I'm going to go watch TV for a while." She bounced off the bed and threw on her robe and house slippers. They had cat heads at the end and were hard to walk in, but they kept her normally frigid feet toasty warm. Matt actually wore matching pajamas and a complimentary robe. Together, with Taryn in her flannel nightgown, they figured they looked pretty much the way they would when they were elderly. She knew she should probably invest in s.e.xy lingerie, but she loved flannel and nightgowns that dragged the floor; they made her feel like she was stepping back in time.

She left Matt on the bed, still mesmerized with the shots. Knowing him, he'd spend at least an hour scrutinizing them and making notes before he wandered back out of the room, full of theories.

Back in the living room, Taryn plopped down in front of the television and flipped through the limited number of channels. She managed to find an old black and white movie called "The Uninvited" and although it was a ghost story, and probably not something she should've been watching considering the circ.u.mstances, she loved it.

If only real ghost stories could be as neatly wrapped up as the ones on TV, she thought. And if only cheap seaside mansions like the one in the movie truly existed. She wouldn't mind chasing after ghosts if it meant she got to live in a mansion by the water and have tea time on the terrace every day.

Wearily, Taryn rubbed at her throbbing temples and thought about the teenager her camera had captured. Who was she? What happened to her? Did she want something from Taryn?

The last question was a no-brainer. Of course she wanted something. They always did.

Taryn's students were waiting for her when she entered her cla.s.sroom two minutes late. They already had their notebooks out, polite expressions on their faces.

"Sorry I'm late," she apologized as she set up the computer. "We got behind a tractor coming in."

Everyone nodded their heads in understanding. Slow tractors and school buses were a given when one was running late in a small, rural town.

"I had to take a p.i.s.s once," a guy in overalls called out. "Got behind a tractor with about two dozen bales of hay on it. Didn't think I'd make it. Finally, after about ten minutes of driving 5 mph, I emptied out a c.o.ke bottle and used it behind the wheel."

"Good thing your aim was good," a girl with long black hair braided on both sides snickered. The rest of the cla.s.s laughed, including Taryn.

"Nothing worse than having to use the bathroom when you're out in the middle of nowhere or behind slow-moving traffic," she agreed.

Today, she planned on showing the students some of the paintings she'd done of houses that were almost completely destroyed and missing key architectural structures. Then she had a little a.s.signment for them.

"First I'm going to pa.s.s out some of these magazine pictures," she lectured. "Pick one out you like then pa.s.s them on to the next person. I'll talk while you're doing that."

It only took ten minutes for her to go through her lecture. She showed them five images, each one including a house or building with severe damage. First, she showed them the photograph then she showed them her painting. They all appeared to be duly impressed.

"Okay, now we're going to do a little art project. You just need a pencil for this one," she advised. "First, I want you to look down at your image. As you can see, it's a woman's face cut in half. Some of you all have pictures cut vertically so that you can only see one eye, half the nose, and half the mouth and chin. The rest have pictures where the image is cut horizontally so you get half the nose and both eyes. What I want you to do on your paper is place your image in the middle and draw the missing half. When you're finished, you should have one complete image of a woman."

Smiles flashed on most of the students' faces as they dug out their pencils. "I'm not good with faces," one guy professed as he studied the picture of Christie Brinkley he'd chosen. "It won't be good."

"It doesn't have to be good," Taryn promised. "I'm just trying to get you all in the mindset of figuring out what the other half looks like just by looking at the limited amount of information you possess."

She gave them twenty minutes for their a.s.signment. While they drew, she hunted through her computer image files and studied them. For her next a.s.signment, she was going to post five images of five different architectural styles and have them draw the houses as quickly as possible. This would help them learn the various time periods and what was popular during those times of construction.

The only sounds she could hear were the chattering of students from down the hall as another cla.s.s was released and the faint scratching noise of pencils. .h.i.tting the paper. "Mind if I turn on some music?" she asked. "I can't go long without it."

The students nodded their heads and kept working.

Taryn chose her Jason Isbell CD and turned the volume down low so that it wasn't overbearing. She didn't know how she'd gone so long without discovering him but at the moment she was hooked on his voice.

By the time cla.s.s let out she had a good handle on what her students were capable of. Most of them were quite good and the others made up in heart and enthusiasm what they lacked in skill.

When they began packing up their stuff to leave, Taryn called Emma to the front of the cla.s.sroom. The redhead was wearing a pair of beige capris, penny loafers, and a Nitty Gritty Dirt Band T-s.h.i.+rt with the words "Fis.h.i.+n' in the Dark" on it. She looked surprised that Taryn wanted to talk to her, but she waited until everyone was gone before she approached her.

"I loved the cla.s.s today," she confessed shyly. "I'm sorry my picture isn't very good. I guess I'm not much of an artist."

Actually, Taryn thought it was very good and told her so. "But don't worry," she added with a laugh. "I'm not going to hang them outside in the hall."

Emma relaxed then and perched her slender body on the edge of a desk. "Did you need to see me for something?"

"Yeah, you got a minute?"

Emma nodded. "I don't have to be anywhere for at least an hour."

Anxiously twirling a strand of curly hair around her forefinger, Taryn hesitated. She didn't want to put the girl on the spot but she wanted to talk to someone. "Okay," she began at last. "I have a question and was hoping you might be able to answer it."

"Shoot!"

"So the woman whose cabin we're living in. Do you know where it's at?"

"Sure," Emma replied. "I grew up around here. Everyone knows that area."