Jekyll Island: A Paranormal Mystery (Taryn's Camera Book 5) (14 page)

Once
she hung up with Matt, Taryn was unable to get back into the zone again. Since it was getting too hot she decided just to call it a day and return to the house.

Of course, once she reached the house and took medication for the swelling and inflammation in her legs and hips she had nothing to do other than flip through the television channels.

Nothing suited her.

“Well, I can’t just sit around here all day and enjoy my pain medication,” she murmured. “I’ll fry my brain between the internet and the bad TV.”

She considered taking a nap but that seemed like a waste of a perfectly good day. Instead, she hobbled to her bedroom, tugged on her bathing suit (one piece because she was getting a little tummy and nobody needed to be exposed to that), and grabbed a towel and sunblock. If she was going to be miserable then she might as well be miserable in the sand.

“I will learn to be a beach person,” she stated. “I’ll learn to relax in the sand if it kills me.”

Taryn wanted to go back to the beach that offered more privacy but didn’t think she could do even the short amount of walking that was required to reach that glorious stretch of sand. Instead, she settled on the main beach across from the miniature golf course and pizza place.

Since it was still early in the afternoon, and low tide. The beach was crowded with families and young people. The former barked orders and slathered creamy lotion onto wriggling children while the latter tried desperately hard to check each other out without being obvious.

Taryn found herself a spot that wasn’t too close to anyone else and spread out her towel. It was a pleasant afternoon. There weren’t any bugs biting on her at her toes, no gale-force wind blowing sand in her face, nobody pumping rap in her ears at a raucous level... She’d brought a trashy romance novel with her since it was the beach and that’s what you were apparently supposed to do but she left it in her beach bag and opted to try the water first.

“Saltwater cures everything,” Dr. Culver, her primary doctor back in Nashville, had joked when she informed her of her new assignment. “You might come back a new person–new bones and joints and everything!”

It was just a joke, of course, since there was no cure for what she had, but the water
was
lessening some of the pressure off her joints and it was easier to move around. The Atlantic Ocean was surprisingly warm so early in the summer and the waves were small and gentle. Wary of jellyfish and other things under the murky depths she stayed close to the shore and waded up to her chest, sometimes pausing to float on her back and enjoy looking up at the sky.

When she looked at the sunny beach, the happy vacationers, and the modern hotel buildings and shops in the distance it was easy to forget the other stuff about the island’s history. It was easy to forget the pillaging of the early settlers, the fighting, the greed, the fire, the deaths…the hanging that would come. And then there was the horrible tragedy involving the slaves who were illegally shipped there after slavery was outlawed. She’d just read about that the night before, about how they’d jumped into the water and thrown their chains from their bodies as they struggled for the shore. Some said you could still see some of the chains when the water was at the right level.

Taryn shuddered just thinking about it.

“You okay there?” The woman next to Taryn was heavyset and wearing a two-piece suit in shocking yellow. Her pale skin was almost blinding and with it set against her wavy black hair she reminded Taryn of a Goth pinup.

“Yeah, just thinking about something,” Taryn said. “Sorry about that.”

“You looked like a ghost walked over your grave just then,” the woman smiled. Taryn was taken aback, remembering that the same phrase had slipped into her mind just a few days before.

The other woman appeared to be in her early fifties. Although she was up to her neck in the ocean she was still wearing rhinestone earrings (or maybe they
were
diamonds, Taryn couldn’t tell the difference sometimes), a thick gold necklace, and half a dozen flashing rings. She was also in full makeup, from her hard liquid eyeliner to her coral lipstick.

“My grandmother used to say that,” Taryn replied. “I was just thinking about the history of the island and it gave me a chill.”

The woman nodded solemnly and adjusted her top, almost causing a show. It looked to be at least one size too small and her heavy breasts were straining against it. Taryn hoped a big wave didn’t come.

“Yes,” she said, pursing her lips together. “Some awful stuff here on the island for sure. You here on vacation?”

Taryn shook her head. “A little work, a little vacation. I’m trying to take some time to enjoy myself while I can.”

“Good for you!” When the woman beamed she looked much younger. “We’re up here from Jacksonville with the grandkids. The beach is just better. Cleaner, if you know what I mean. Not a bunch of partying going on. Sorry, no offense if you’re into that.”

Taryn laughed. “My idea of a party these days is a gallon of ice cream and some Brad Pitt movies. Usually by myself.”

“Now that’s my kind of party,” the woman agreed. “By the way, my name’s April. It’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t related to me. I love my family, but I’ve gotten sick of them after not seeing anyone else for a week.”

The two women bobbed companionably in the water together, just a few feet apart. Considering they didn’t know one another, it was strangely intimate being so close to someone who wore such few articles of clothing. “Do you come up here a lot?”

April nodded, her earrings catching the sunlight and making lights dance across the water. “Yep. Every summer for fifteen years now.”

Sensing an opportunity, Taryn pounced on it. “Has it changed a lot?”

“Yes and no. The people seem to change more than anything else. It goes through phases I guess you could say. Sometimes it’s families who all want to come here. And then it’s retirees like me and my Murray. St. Simon’s gets a lot of the younger people, the ones looking for action and to be seen. The ones who come here want to get lost.”

Taryn could understand that. “It
does
have a special kind of feel to it,” she agreed.

“Oh honey, it has more than that. If this island calls to you then you
know
it. It shows itself in different ways. My daughter? She won’t step foot on it. Says there’s evil here, that there are things hiding or crawling around the island that she can feel but can’t see. My husband Murray?”

April gestured to a chair on the beach occupied by a skinny bald man with thick glasses and a can of beer in each hand. He alternated taking drinks from each can, both different brands, while he appeared to keep his eyes on a group of twentysomething women giggling with each other on a nearby blanket. “He’s never felt nothing but goodness here. Says it’s the most peaceful place he’s ever seen.”

“What about you?”

April shrugged. “I know what my daughter means, but I’m able to ignore it. I can put it aside and tell myself it doesn’t concern me.”

Taryn wished she were better at doing that. Building upon the rapport they seemed to be establishing Taryn pushed harder. “I’ve been engrossed in the hotel’s history, especially the fire and what happened at the turn of the century.”

April shivered dramatically. “Ooooh! That! What a terrible, terrible thing. All those people scurrying, trying to get out. Trampling each other. They said that by the time the rescue workers came over from Brunswick to help with the flames the whole front lawn was just littered with bodies. They couldn’t tell who was alive and who was dead. All those fine suits and evening gowns covered in soot and ashes and grass stains…just terrible.”

Taryn could envision it even then and for a moment could swear she caught the scent of smoke but then she shook her head clear of it. It was just her imagination acting up on her.

“And all of that just to get rid of his poor wife,” April continued, shaking her head in sorrow.

“So why do you think he did it?” Taryn asked.

“Money,” April replied. “Although I don’t know why. Back then the man pretty much held the purse strings anyway, even if she was the one who came into the marriage with the cash.”

Taryn nodded in agreement. She was right, of course.

“Of course,” April lowered her voice to a whisper and bounced closer to Taryn in the water. “Of course there are those who think there may have been something more sinister going on.”

Taryn bent her head forward and whispered back. “What do you mean?”

“All those rich men here, all those wanting to protect their assets. Some think they weren’t just here to shoot ducks and enjoy the view, if you know what I mean.”

Taryn looked at her in confusion. No, she really
didn’t
know what she meant. “Sorry, I’m not following…”

April giggled. “Well, I’ve never been one to keep up with these sorts of things but there is a very substantial rumor that several years later some of those same Club members came back and held a secret meeting amongst themselves and that’s when the Federal Reserve was created. It was all clandestine of course, very cloak and dagger.”

“And maybe William had something to do with that?” Taryn pondered aloud.

April straightened and patted her hair primly, her rings glittering again. Taryn was struck by her cherry red fingernail polish and the little rhinestone nail art on each finger. “Weelllll….Not everyone was on board with it or liked what was going on. And some of those people met a very unfortunate demise.”

“What do you mean? Other people were murdered?”

April laughed, a girlish sound that belied her years. “Oh my dear, just look what happened to the Titanic and who all was on board! Think about
that
for a minute and how some of those men had more than enough dough to buy their way off on a lifeboat but went down anyway…”

The skinny man in the chair stood then and called out to her. Both women turned towards the sand and Taryn saw him folding up his chair and gathering the towels. “Well my dear, it appears that I am being summoned. I must depart!”

Taryn said her goodbyes but continued to stand in the water, ignoring the tickle of ting fish fins against her legs. A fire that nearly knocked off half the country’s richest men? Secret meetings from Club members? The Federal Reserve? Murder? The Titanic? Taryn’s head was swimming more than her body; she was beginning to feel the start of an oncoming headache.

What the hell had
happened
on this island?

“
You
don’t honestly believe that the men on Jekyll Island had something to do with the sinking of the Titanic do you?”

Taryn could tell that Matt was trying to humor her but she also knew that he was about two seconds away from breaking out into hysterical laughter. She recognized that tone.

“I don’t know,” she muttered. “I watched this documentary on You Tube and–“

“Taryn? Really?” he asked, controlled patience edging his voice.

Taryn stopped pacing around her living room and slumped her shoulders. “Okay. Well, it made sense while I was watching it.”

“I think you’re getting spooked and your mind is getting cluttered,” he said. “Why don’t you take a step back and regroup and go back to the beginning.”

Taryn sighed and plopped down on the couch. Dangling her feet off the armrest she stared up at the popcorn ceiling and started at the point where she'd met the woman in the ocean. She laughed herself. “Okay, so I can see where I went astray. There’s just so much history here that it’s hard to keep it all straight. I can see what you mean about things being cluttered, though.”

“Well, I did a little sleuthing of my own and found some information about the hanging. I’m going to bring up with me tomorrow when I come,” Matt told her. “I think you should focus on the fire. With what you felt at the house with the smoke and fire and what you saw in the hotel room…”

“You think that had something to do with the fire at the hotel?” she asked. “But that couple’s grandson didn’t die there.”

“I don’t think it necessarily matters,” Matt replied. “I think one of the reasons you picked up on it is because of the fire that happened at the hotel. You know, maybe the receptors were more active or something.”

“Yeah, okay, that makes sense,” Taryn conceded. “So you think maybe it’s Rachel haunting me, trying to tell me something? Maybe seeking revenge or wanting help?”

“I think that makes more sense than anything else,” Matt agreed.

“But what about the cottages? Ivy House and Adena? How do they play into it?”

“I don’t think they do at all,” Matt said. “Taryn, we talk about this all the time. Just because a place is haunted doesn’t mean it has anything to do with you or that you’re meant to do anything about it.”

Taryn later hung up the phone but continued to stay on the couch. It was growing dark out and the shadows were moving across the room but she made no move to get up. Something was nagging at her. She should’ve been comforted by Matt’s words, but she wasn’t.

Matt was wrong. She wasn’t sure about which part, exactly, but she knew in her gut that something wasn’t right.