Jekyll Island: A Paranormal Mystery (Taryn's Camera Book 5) by Rebecca Patrick-Howard

Hotel and getting ready for her day was the last place she thought she’d be recognized.
    “It’s Taryn Magill, right?” The man who towered over her had to be in his mid-to-late thirties but had a voice so deep and powerful that it made her table vibrate.
    Assuming he was someone from the hotel, and probably someone she should know, she looked up and smiled politely. “Yes I am. Hello.”
    “Jerry Guillen ma’am,” he said in that booming voice again, and stretched his hand to her. It was warm and soft but massive; it swallowed Taryn’s tiny hand and she watched it disappear in fascination as he held onto it. “I’m a big fan of yours. Big fan. Just love what you do.”
    “Huh?” Completely confused now, Taryn was afraid he might have her mixed up with someone else. Unless he was into oils and watercolors and historical architecture she doubted he’d seen much of what she did. “My paintings?”
    “Your photography !” Jerry grinned, wide-eyed. “Most of us in my field spend our lives imagining the past. The fact that you’re able to see it is incredible.”
    It became clearer then and Taryn nodded. He still hadn’t let go of her hand. “Oh, yes, well, it’s…pretty incredible to me too sometimes,” she finished lamely.
    “I’ve read everything about your story that I can find,” he said enthusiastically. “ Everything ! I know all about it.”
    She highly doubted that. Nothing, for instance, had been written about her time at Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill and people knew very little regarding her involvement in northern Georgia and the case of missing teenager Cheyenne Willoughby.
    “Well, thank you. I think.”
    “Listen,” Jerry began with marked enthusiasm, finally releasing her and pulling up a chair. “I’m one of the event organizers this weekend and we had a guest speaker cancel. Would you be interested in filling in maybe?”
    Taryn paled. She wasn’t terribly good at talking in front of crowds. The brief teaching stint she’d done had been awkward enough. “Um, I don’t really have anything prepared for that kind of thing.”
    “Oh, you don’t need anything formal! Just show up with some of your pictures. We’ll hook you up to the computer, and you can do a slide show presentation or whatever. People will love it,” he promised.
    “Oh, I don’t know. I am here on a job, and I don’t know if that would be a conflict of interest or anything,” she hedged.
    “Don’t worry about that. I’ll talk to the manager. We could really use the help. People pay a lot of money to come to this and we strive to give them the best experience we possibly can. So, are you in?” He’d barely given her a chance to think about it.
    Feeling pressured, Taryn caved. “Okay. When do you need me?”
    “How about 9 o’clock tonight? We have a ghost hunt at 11:00 pm so you’d be finished in about an hour. And then you’re welcome to come with us on the hunt. See if your camera can pick anything up?” he asked hopefully, looking like an eager puppy.
    Taryn smiled. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight. I can’t promise that I’ll be very good, though.”
    “You’ll be terrific,” Jerry assured her. “I have a feeling this will be the highlight of the weekend.”
    Taryn remained unconvinced.

Ivy House remained unimpressed by her presence. Taryn was bound and determined to make friends with it by the time she left but, at the moment, it was doing all it could to snub its nose at her. And it knew exactly what she was trying to do.
    If she attempted to sketch the edge of the porch, a clump of Spanish moss would fall from the roof above and land on the exact spot that she was attempting to draw. If she noticed a particularly beautiful pattern of shadows across the curve of a column then the moment she began capturing them, clouds would suddenly block out the sun, and she’d lose it.
    “I know what you’re doing and you’re not going to drive me away,” she called out to the house, wagging