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

her finger. “I need the money too much.”
    A crash rang out from the inside in answer.
    When the tour groups with their history and ghost tales filed by, the house snubbed its nose at them as well. She imagined it crossing its arms and turning its back on everyone. Unlike Adena Cottage, Ivy House didn’t yearn for attention or preen under watchful eyes. It wanted to be left alone.
    Taryn didn’t envy the people who would eventually have to work inside it for the restoration.
    By the end of the afternoon she had a rough sketch of the front of the house and she was quite pleased with herself. While she worked, she’d stood under a large oak tree that offered plenty of shade, making the experience a tad more comfortable than the open lawn of Adena.
    When she finished, she turned the sketch around and showed it to the house. “See? I think I did you justice.”
    The house seemed to consider her canvas for a moment and then, suddenly, a beautiful configuration of shadows fell across the front, providing mesmerizing contours and contrast.
    Taryn laughed. “Well, you’re welcome then.” A woman passing by pushing a stroller with a sleepy toddler stopped in her tracks and glanced at Taryn before shaking her head in worry and quickly moving on.
    “It’s okay, ma’am,” Taryn wanted to assure her. “I was just talking to the house.” But she kept her mouth shut. If they couldn’t hear it, they probably wouldn’t understand.

S ince she had a few hours before her speaking engagement, Taryn zipped back to her house to get ready for the evening. She needed to sort through her photos and find some that were worth sharing and discussing. Some were intensely personal to her and sharing them with anyone other than Matt felt like an invasion of privacy. Others, though, were okay. At least in a room full of amateur ghost hunters they’d probably be appreciated.
    Taryn was surprised to see another vehicle in her driveway. The front door was open a crack so she knocked first before going in. When nobody answered she stepped just inside, ready to bolt in case it was someone who wanted to hit her over the head with something and drag her away.
    When she heard the roar of the vacuum cleaner in the bedroom she knew she was safe. It was just the cleaning service.
    Taryn let herself on into the house and closed the door behind her. Not wanting to disturb the woman who was pushing the vacuum and singing Madonna at the top of her lungs, Taryn stayed in the living room and fired up her laptop. She had thousands of photos saved on her external hard drive and it would take hours to get through all of them. She didn’t have that much time. She was in desperate need of a better organization system. She tried creating folders and sub-folders and all of those good things but then she forgot what she’d labeled them.
    Lost in her files, she didn’t hear the roar of the vacuum stop or the footsteps coming into the living room.
    “Oh my God!” the other woman screamed.
    Taryn jumped a foot off the couch, knocking over the Coke that she’d set on the coffee table in front of her.
    The terrified housekeeper dashed into the kitchen and returned with a roll of paper towels. Together they attempted to clean up the mess before it ran across the floor.
    “I am so sorry,” Taryn apologized. “I didn’t want to bother you so I just thought I would stay in here. I figured you’d see me.”
    The other woman was in her mid-forties, very attractive, and had dark, curly brown hair that just skimmed her shoulders. Her face, tanned from the sun, was nearly the same shade of chocolate as her eyes.
    “It’s my fault,” she replied as she gathered the wet paper towels in a plastic bag. “I had my ear buds in and got lost in my own little world. I’m Carla, by the way.”
    “Taryn,” Taryn introduced herself. “And you certainly don’t need to clean up after me. I can do it myself. Just sit down and take a break if you can’t leave yet or