Latham's Landing by Tara Fox Hall Page A

tossing it down. “C’mon
Marie, let’s get going. You can illustrate a boat of college
students being dashed to their deaths on those pretty red granite
rocks.” He strode outside.
    Marie grabbed a pencil set, a sketchpad, and
an eraser, and went after him.
    Daryl turned to Nikki, who was rooting in her
bag. “Ready?”
    Nikki turned to him, digital camera in one
hand, and a small 35mm in the other. “Ready. Lead on.”
     
    By noon, they’d shot most of the house, Nikki
having long used all of her 35mm and switching to plain digital.
“You’ve got almost two hundred pictures,” she exclaimed. “I don’t
usually take that many at my relatives’ weddings. Developing that
many and blowing them up is going to be expensive. You’d better
view them first to pick the ones you want.”
    “ I want them all,” Daryl replied with a
grin. “Really, this is wonderful. I never dreamed that there would
be so many good locations all over the house. Instead of the one or
two I expected, we’ve got at least ten that look menacing with only
their natural shadows. We also got great shots of the balcony. More
than a few people hanged themselves there.”
    “ Yeah, this place is creepy,” Nikki
said, going to the next room. She twisted the key that lay in the
lock, then opened the door. “Hey, Daryl, look in here.”
    Daryl went to her side, then gaped,
blinking.
    All the other rooms had been vacant, a broken
frame and some moldering books the only trappings. This room was
not.
    “ It was a nursery,” Nikki whispered.
“Or a child’s room.”
    An ornately carved small bed, almost a crib,
was at the far side of the L-shaped room against the wall. There
was a large, intricate stained glass window with a seat built into
it. Below it, just distinguishable in shadow, were two shelves
holding a few old toys and one book, thick dust covering them.
    “ Do you know whose this was?” Nikki
whispered.
    “ I only know of the deaths on the
balcony and a few drownings in the lake,” Daryl admitted. “There
are other deaths, but the website didn’t say where in the house
they happened, or if they were inside at all.”
    “ There’s no mattress,” Nikki whispered.
“Why take that and not the toys?”
    Suddenly, the wan multicolored light from the
large picture window lessened, leaving them in semi darkness. Rain
lightly pattered on the window.
    “ Damn it,” Daryl swore, fumbling for
his flashlight. “That rain was supposed to hold off until
tomorrow—”
    A soft creaking sound pierced the silence.
Nikki clutched Daryl’s arm.
    He turned on the flashlight, aiming it at the
noise like a gun.
    A new toy was on the floor in front of them,
a tiger with wheels. Long ago, its frayed string had pulled it
along, the tiger’s wooden joints moving with the wheels, giving him
the appearance of running.
    “ He came off the bottom shelf below the
window seat,” Nikki said, relieved. “There are tracks in the
dust—”
    Rain spattered the window lightly, then hit
with shocking power. The darkness intensified, then lightning
flashed, illuminating the window in all its multicolored splendor,
the light playing over the derelict crib and toy
    “ Get a picture, quick,” Daryl hissed
urgently. “Hurry.”
    Nikki tentatively pointed the camera, then
clicked. As she did, a boom of thunder shook the house, startling
Daryl. He dropped his flashlight.
    “ Damn it—”
    “ Look,” Nikki squeaked. “It’s eyes.
They’re glowing.”
    Daryl gazed down in the blackness. The
tiger’s left round glass eye glowed back at him blankly.
    “ That’s phosphorous material,” he said,
grabbing his flashlight. “I didn’t know they had that back in the
twenties—“
    The tiger’s single shining eye became two
suddenly, its head turning to face them.
    “ Jesus,” Nikki breathed.
    “ Shoot it,” Daryl urged. “Take a pic,
hurry!”
    A frantic creaking sounded, as the tiger’s
eyes began to bob up and down, coming closer in the