Muddy Creek: A Paranormal Mystery (Taryn's Camera Book 7)

by Rebecca Patrick-Howard

  Taryn shook her head and tried to clear her mind. She needed to focus on her painting. It would be finished within the week and then she’d be gone. On to the next adventure and job. Only, without closure to this one, she might not truly be moving on at all.

  For a moment Taryn let herself forget about the worries that plagued her and, instead, absorbed herself in her painting. It was looking good if she did have to say so herself. The school had never looked better. Well, perhaps when it was first built, but it certainly hadn’t looked better in a very long time. And it wasn’t pink in her painting, either. (Although, truth be known, she was kind of fond of the acid pink walls. They added color to an otherwise dismal place.)

  “I tried to like you,” she insisted as she dipped her brush in green and worked in some shading on the landscaping at the front entrance. “I wanted to like you.”

  But she hadn’t. From the moment she’d pulled up to the school, Taryn had been uneasy.

  How could it be that this place, which had apparently brought joy to hundreds of children over the years, could make her feel so disconcerted?

  “It’s not a good place,” she muttered. “It’s not.”

  When the clatter came this time, Taryn tossed down her paintbrush and began marching towards the building with something not unlike anger.

  “I am going to do this, and I will not be scared,” she cried.

  She slipped through the back entrance with ease; she was becoming an old pro at getting in and out of the school at a rapid pace. This time, however, she didn’t pause to wonder about which direction she should go in. She went straight to Classroom Number Five. Mrs. Evans’ room.

  Now she stood in the doorway and surveyed the shambles. “What do you want?” she screamed. “Who are you? Mrs. Evans, what did you do?”

  “Taryn.” The voice was soft, but commanding. Taryn startled at the sound and turned quickly in the direction it came from. It came from the principal’s office. “Taryn,” it came again, this time with more urgency.

  The cry that rose in Taryn’s throat was unavoidable. “Sarah,” she sobbed as she sprinted towards the little office. “Sarah, wait! Don’t go anywhere!”

  Taryn was not capable of rational thought as she hurried through the door and whirled around the small room, spinning around and around in circles, looking for one of the few people in her life who had truly loved her. Her parents had liked her, that was true, but they’d never shown her love. Distance, coolness, aloofness. That’s what she’d received from them. The love was all from her grandmother and aunt. And now they were gone. Gone with Andrew. She was all alone, except for Matt.

  “Aunt Sarah!” Taryn wept again. “Please, I need help. Tell me what to do!”

  But the room was quiet. If Sarah had been there, she was gone now. Taryn couldn’t feel a single ounce of energy that she couldn’t see.

  Feeling completely defeated and crushed, Taryn dropped to her knees and whimpered, the tears hot and searing on her cheeks. She didn’t let out dainty, feminine cries; these were gutted, wretched sounds that echoed up and down the hall.

  She cried for herself, cried for Matt and what she knew she could never give him, cried for Andrew, cried for her aunt who had died alone in the woods, cried for the poor kids in Lucy’s class who had never had real chances to be adults before passing away…she even shed tears for the dead deer she’d seen on the side of the road on her drive over there. She let it all out.

  Then, when she was finished, she stood. Dry-eyed now, and feeling raw yet somewhat stronger, she started for the door.

  And watched in horror as it slammed shut in front of her. “Hey, what’s going on?” she demanded.

  When Taryn reached for the knob, however, it turned bright red and burned her hand. She pulled back, shocked by the blisters that were already starting to form through the broken skin.

  “Wha–”

  The clatter. At first, she thought it was coming from across the hall, from the storage closet. But then Taryn realized that it wasn’t from the closet at all, but from the classroom behind it. She didn’t have to look to know that things were once again flying around the room, soaring through the air as though the objects had wings of their own.

  Scared and nervous, Taryn slowly backed up to the desk until her bottom hit the edge of it. There was no window in the door, but she didn’t have to look to know what was going on; the noise was loud enough.

  It sounded as though a tornado was ripping through the building. The din was terrific. Glass broke, shards scattered. Chairs crashed against walls and fractured into pieces. Then there was a popping sound, soft “thuds” that reminded Taryn of guns with their silencer on.

  “Good Lord,” she whispered. Was someone getting shot?

  No, not that kind of sound. But bad.

  She stood there and listened until it was over. It didn’t last more than a minute or two, but it was long enough. Her ears rang from the racket, and she rubbed at them vigorously, trying to stop the ringing.

  “Taryn,” the voice behind her spoke again. Taryn straightened tall but did not turn around. She wouldn’t risk the hope again.

  “Aunt Sarah?” she asked hesitantly.

  As though in answer, the Chicago song from the jukebox began ringing out from down the hall. “Look Away” drifted into the office, a peace offering for what had just transpired. The voice was not that of the famous band, but of the teacher. Just a soft, beautiful sound after the uproar she’d just experienced was jarring.

  Taryn watched as the redness faded from the door knob. She could leave if she wanted but without warning, she could suddenly feel her aunt’s unhappiness closing in around her. They shared that moment of sorrow together as Taryn realized what her aunt had wanted to tell her.

  Whatever had happened in that school, the principal had known about it. She couldn’t have not known. She’d heard everything that went on. And what had she done? Ignored it? Looked the other way? Was it really that literal?

  Her aunt had been a principal, a beloved head of school. She’d protected her students, protected everyone she’d known. And now, in death, she’d used one of her last wild cards up her sleeve to show Taryn that not only was she not alone, but that someone had failed those children in the worst way.

  “You didn’t fail me, Aunt Sarah,” Taryn murmured. “Not ever.”

  Taryn stayed until the song was over and then she quietly slipped from the office. One more picture of the classroom and she was out.

  * * *

  SHE FINISHED HER WORK in silence; she didn’t even turn her music on. The din in her mind was enough to supersede the quietness. She had enough of a racket going on inside of her, didn’t need to add more.

  Three hours later Taryn rinsed her brushes with bottled water, carefully wrapped up her canvases, and stored everything in the back of her car. She was ready to get back to her room, back to Matt.

  But before she drove away, Taryn paused and really studied the building opposite her. For the first time since her first day, she took a good, long look at what stood before her. The weeds pushing through the cracks in the concrete, the vines wrapping themselves around and within the windows. The damaged roof, the crumbling plaster. The mold. Festering rot.

  “Like a person,” she whispered aloud. “You couldn’t hide, could you?”

  The school did not reply, but it was listening.

  “All of those years you were a stately building, a solid edifice of learning. You wore your stout cinderblocks and sparkling windows with pride. But then, little by little, you began crumbling. This, this ugliness that’s here now…it was here all along. This is what you were hiding beneath the layers of new paint and Windex and fresh asphalt. Decay and corrosion. Just like a person. Like someone who tries to hide their real selves behind a glossy, polished façade. Until that becomes rancid, too, and you’re left with nothing but the putrefaction underneath. You can’t hide forever.”

  Taryn turned then and slipped inside her car.

>   “You can’t hide forever,” she repeated. “And you won’t.”

  Twenty-Six

  “You sure you feel like going out? You’ve had a long day.”

  As though she needed to be reminded. “No, I’m good,” she smiled. “Besides, it’s your last night. Let’s get out of here.”

  Their plan was to drive to the next county over. They’d heard of a mom ‘n pop steakhouse that apparently had fantastic barbecue ribs. Matt was all about the ribs.

  “Good, because I was going a little stir crazy in here,” Matt admitted. “I got caught up on my emails, took a walk, grabbed some lunch, and sat outside and read for about an hour. Wasn’t sure where else to go with the day after that.”

  “It sounds kind of nice to me,” Taryn told him. As she talked, she slipped out of her jeans and sweatshirt and tried on a lightweight floral dress. The loose-fitting cardigan she layered over it would help with the chill. She’d bought both from the thrift store in town. It had gotten a lot of her business since the vandalism. The vandalism that the motel and police had never gotten a lead on.

  “Your day does a little more eventful than mine. You want to tell me anything else about it?”

  Taryn shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m feeling kind of fragile at the moment. I have a million thoughts rushing through my head. Would kind of like to take my mind off of it.”

  Matt came up behind her and tugged her hair free of her collar. Using his hand, he smoothed her curls over her shoulders and tucked one long, loose over behind her ear. “Pretty girl,” he said.

  She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the nose. “I felt my aunt today. It was nice. I don’t think I’ll see her again. But that was fun while it lasted.”

  “What makes you think you won’t see her again?”

  “Just a feeling,” Taryn replied.

  Matt wrapped his arms around her and drew her into him. “Well, I’ve learned that those are usually pretty accurate.”

  They stood there in a kind of half-dance, just leaning into one another, and might have remained for awhile except the knock on the door interrupted them.

  “I’ll get it,” Taryn said. “Might be Sandy for that album.”

  But it wasn’t; it was Frieda.

  “Hey Taryn,” she said. She stood in the doorway and leaned against the knob. Her hair was disheveled and her clothes baggy. It appeared as though she’d lost some weight. The trial had been hard on everyone. She no longer heard the rowdy reporters laughing and socializing as much in the evening. Now they were much more subdued. The reality of the situation was closing in on them. Most were ready to return home to husbands, wives, kids, and their regular baristas.

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “It’s going,” she replied curtly. Taryn and Matt had watched her early on her show. She’d been fired up about something one of her was saying. Her face had never been redder with anger. “You coming back to hang with us in the courtroom?”

  “Probably,” she said. “I need to finish my real job first. But I’d like to support Lucy.”

  Frieda cocked an eyebrow and studied her. “Huh. So you don’t think she did it?”

  “She did it. But I am not judging until I know why.”

  Frieda chuckled. “So killing seven people is perfectly acceptable as long as you have a good reason?”

  Something about her words sent a jolt through Taryn. She’d had the same one earlier that day, at the school. Now, Taryn tried to hold onto the feeling, the little spark. There was something about it that she was meant to remember. It slipped through her mind as soon as it entered, however. Maybe it would come back.

  “I knocked on your door because, uh, there might be a little problem.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “That little red number out there yours?”

  Concerned, Taryn walked over to where he stood. “Under the streetlamp? Yeah, why?”

  Frieda shook his head and grimaced. “Someone did a real number on it.”

  “What!?”

  Taryn was flying out the door before she could finish her thought.

  Her car was only about five yards away and parked right under the glaring light. It was in the well-lit part of the parking lot, something her father had told her to ensure when she was alone. And, sure enough, as Frieda had said–someone had done a real number on it.

  It was keyed from the rear tire all the way to the front grate. Long, deep marks that, from a distance, could be racing lines. To make matters worse, if that were possible, they’d also dumped a bucket (or something) of white paint right on top. It had spilled down owner the front and sides, peppering her windshield and hood to that it appeared her car had been parked under a tree filled with infuriated birds.

  “Oh my God!” Taryn cried. She began stomping her foot, having a tantrum right there in the middle of the parking lot. “No, no, NO!” she wailed with each stamp.

  Matt, who had come running out behind her, grabbed her by the arm. “We’ll fix it,” he soothed her. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay an extra day. I’ll get it done.”

  “Bastards!” she seethed. “Who did it, Frieda? Do you know?”

  Frieda shook her head, looking sheepish. “I literally just got here. Saw this and came straight to your door.”

  “I’ve only been home for half an hour,” she muttered. “They worked fast. Has this happened to anyone else?”

  “Not that I know of,” she replied.

  “Taryn? Taryn, is everything okay?”

  She recognized the voice without looking up. A voice that smooth, that practiced-polite, could only come from Heather.

  “Someone damaged my car,” Taryn said, pointing at the damage.

  Heather walked across the parking lot to where Taryn stood. When she saw the vehicle, she grimaced. Taryn was too busy noticing the woman next to her, though, to pay attention to the blond beauty. Louellen, from the PTA meeting, accompanied Heather that night. Taryn didn’t even know they were friends, although she assumed everyone probably knew who Heather and Jamey were.

  Louellen did not share the same look of concern and disbelief that her friend wore. In fact, it might have been Taryn’s imagination, but she thought she might even look…pleased.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Heather asked. “Call someone?”

  “We’ll get it taken care of,” Matt said smoothly. “Thank you, though.”

  Taryn nodded numbly and thanked the women as they walked away. When they were out of earshot, she turned back to Matt and Frieda.

  “Did you all notice anything odd about that that?” she asked.

  Matt shook his head. “Did I miss something?”

  Frieda slapped him on the back while shaking her head in amazement at Taryn. “I saw it, buddy. You are talking about the splotches of white paint on the ugly one’s shoes, right?”

  Twenty-Seven

  “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

  “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Taryn assured him. “They’re coming to get my car this afternoon. Going to give it a whole new paint job.”

  “I didn’t mind paying for it, you know.”

  “I know.” Taryn leaned into Matt and rubbed her head against his arm. “And thank you. But I can afford it now. I’m working in Muddy Creek, after all. Bringing in the big bucks!”

  “Well, I am glad I was at least able to get you the rental for a few days.”

  And she’d let him do that. Because Matt liked feeling useful. She had also let him take her out for breakfast before they took off to the airport. Now, as they walked back to the motel, hand-in-hand, she held onto him and moved slowly. They still had some time, and she wasn’t ready to let him go.

  “I can stay another day or two if you need me to,” he reminded her.

  “No, I can’t be the one responsible for you missing so much work,” she said.

  “I can quit my job, Taryn, and go with you.” He stopped walking and tu
rned her to face him. In the early morning light, his face looked older. He’d become a man somewhere along the way. She didn’t remember that happening and yet, there he was.

  “I can’t be the one responsible for you giving up your dreams,” she said.

  “I have new dreams.” He had both hands on her shoulders, and now he gripped them tightly, willing her to take him seriously. “I want to do this.”

  “I can’t, Matt,” she said with sadness. “I can’t do that to you. I can’t do that to me. I’ve known you most of your life. You’re one of the few people in the world that're living their dreams. If I was even partly responsible for you not doing that anymore…I couldn’t take it. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t see that happen to you.”

  “We’ve got to do something,” he pleaded. “Because of this? It isn’t working. I need more of you.”

  “You’ve had plenty of me,” she joked, but he didn’t smile.

  “I promise, Matt, we’ll figure something out. I’ll straighten myself up, and we’ll do what we need to do. But not right now. Not right this minute. I need to get myself sorted first.”

  Matt sighed and let her go. He didn’t begin walking right away, however. Instead, he turned and looked up and down Main Street. “Ever get jealous of these people?” he asked.

  “What people?” There wasn’t anyone out on the street that early. Not yet. They’d come in about an hour.

  “The ones who can live here, have ordinary lives with children and houses and dogs and family vacations to Pigeon Forge and RVs when they retire. And they make it work because they enjoy it.” Matt rarely looked or spoke so seriously. Taryn found it unnerving.

  “Sometimes,” she admitted. “I am envious of those whose dreams feel smaller than mine. I am envious of those who are easily satisfied.” Because she, Taryn Magill, rarely felt satisfied. She constantly felt as though she were reaching for the next big ring on the ladder, following stars she could never reach. And hell, Matt actually DID reach for the stars.