Dark Hollow Road (Taryn's Camera Book 3) (5 page)

“What do you mean?” Matt asked absently, focused on the words in front of him yet still managing to rub her foot at the same time.

“I
feel
like something’s wrong,” she insisted. “I still can’t explain it.”

He patiently bookmarked his book with a receipt and placed it on the end table next to him. Turning his dark brown eyes to her, he studied Taryn intently. “You want to try?”

“I feel… disconcerted,” she finished lamely. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just restless or something.”

“You want to go back out and try to take some more pictures?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I don’t think it will help anything.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything earlier because it wasn’t a big deal, but I felt something myself this morning. While I was fixing breakfast,” Matt explained.

“What?’ Taryn asked, fascinated. Matt’s beliefs in the paranormal were uncertain. He believed in her, for sure, and had an extremely open mind but so far hadn’t really experienced anything himself that he couldn’t explain. He claimed that when he showed up at Griffith Tavern and was trying to get in to her on that last night he’d seen the faintest flicker of a shadow cross over his line of vision but it hadn’t been anything substantial. And, of course, the door had given him some trouble. But his rational mind had chalked it up to age and nerves.

“I was here in the kitchen and felt like someone was watching me. Not in a threatening kind of way. Just like, I don’t know, like maybe they were curious about me. Just wanted to see what I was up to. And then I felt sad. It hit me all at once, like a ton of bricks. The feeling didn’t last long, just a few seconds, but it was there and it unnerved me.”

Taryn felt the blood pushing at her temples, the beginning of a headache. “You think there’s something here, then?”

Matt’s eyes clouded over and he caught his breath, as though hesitating. “Maybe…” he admitted, slowly. “But it might not be anything, you know. It might just be a… presence,” he finished lamely.

“I don’t normally feel or sense something unless it wants something,” Taryn pointed out. She stood up in front of him, gazing down. Every so often she was struck at just how beautiful he truly was. Matt, with his dark eyes, thick hair, smooth skin… She’d known him since they were children and occasionally she found herself forgetting he was a man; she still saw him the same way she had when he was ten. It was different in bed. With the lights out and the silky thick curls of his legs on her bare skin he was all man. But in the daylight, here he was: Matt, young at heart and as safe as a childhood blanket.

“It doesn’t have to be scary, though,” he lectured softly. He reached up and took hold of her hand, his palm sliding over her wrist and down to her fingers. It was a soothing gesture, one he’d been doing for a long time. The familiarity of him and his touch was enough to have the oncoming pain in her head subside.

“At any rate, I think my class will be okay. Nobody fell asleep or threw tomatoes at me. No anarchy.”

“Well, there’s still time,” he teased.

Laughing, she plopped down and pulled him along with her, resting her head on his shoulder.

S
ince her class didn’t meet every day, she had the next day off. “I’ve got to get myself on some sort of schedule,” she mumbled sleepily as she gazed at the digital clock next to the bed. It was almost 2:30 pm. She’d been up half the night watching the Hallmark Channel. It wasn’t even Halloween yet, but they’d already started showing their holiday movies and she was a sucker for those, the more saccharine the better. It was an illness, she was sure.

Matt was gone but had left her a note; he’d be back in a few hours. All alone in the house, she decided to get dressed and take herself for a walk. The air was chilly and on its way to being downright cold so she made sure to bundle up. After slinging Miss Dixie around her neck, just in case, she stepped out into the bitter wind and began making her way around the property.

There wasn’t much to see within close proximity to the house. She’d seen most of the yard already. The trees that formed the barricade against the rest of the world were leaning gently away from the wind, except for the evergreens standing proudly, boasting their greenness and showing off to the others. The gravel road was starkly white against the brittle, dry ground and looked freshly laid. The owners did a good job of keeping the place up, especially since they claimed not to use it often.

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 relationship 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 far–maybe half a mile at most. Curious, she quickened her pace and continued on. Although she assumed 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 façade was now a dingy gray and the windows had almost all been broken out, leaving shards of glass 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 sturdy 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 grass 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 grass. 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 shell. 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 grass. 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.

M
att 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 glasses 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 any
thing
, 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 shore 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.”