Free Dark Hollow Road (Taryn's Camera Book 3) by Rebecca Patrick-Howard Page B

runaway?” Matt asked.
    “Yes,” Taryn answered quickly.
    “That was fast. What makes you think she didn’t just up and leave? Get mad and go off to blow some steam?”
    “Because I wouldn’t be seeing her if she wasn’t dead.”
     

     
    T aryn’s sleep was restless. Although she’d never been a great sleeper, she’d been doing a lot better with Matt around. It was soothing to reach her foot or hand out in the middle of the night and touch his toe, his thigh, his stomach… Not only did Taryn have trouble falling asleep and staying there, terrible nightmares had plagued her since she was a child. Her parents had sought medication for her before she moved in with her grandmother full time (she’d promptly had Taryn stop everything, thinking it was probably making things worse rather than better and she was right) and even seen a therapist. Nothing but having an actual physical body there with her helped.
    Sometimes the nightmares were so bad she wondered if she maybe she wasn’t reliving some former past live and horrors that befell her back then. The recurring dream of burning in a fire, feeling her flesh smoldering and then peeling was much too vivid to come out of her random imagination.
    Tonight, the dream started out innocuous enough.
    The grass beneath her feet was brittle from the lack of rain, but the air was damp, foggy. It was sweet-smelling from the fire and the mixture of dampness and smoke clung to her hair, to her skin, to her clothing. She breathed in deeply, taking in the scent, and then let it roll off around her, engulfing her in its saccharinity.  There was a chill in the air, a small but biting one, and she found herself pulling her jacket closer around her, discovering warmth and protection in its thick, lined fabric.
    The sound of laughter was all around her, although she couldn’t see where it was coming from, and the noise was a comforting one. The sense of being surrounded by people, being a part of something, was tantalizing. The wine cooler she’d downed earlier set solidly on top of her stomach, a nuisance but not an unpleasant feeling. She felt loose, carefree, relaxed.
    Then, the air changed. It wasn’t a subtle change, but abrupt. Suddenly, she was conscious of the fact that she was alone. As the fog grew denser around her and the cacophony of voices dissolved a panicky fear she’d not known since she was a child clawed at her chest and stomach. In frantic circles she turned around and around, trying to peer through the thickness of the night. The fire was gone, replaced by a coldness that sank into her skin and bubbled there, mixing with the fear until a putrid stench erupted from her in tiny clouds; she could smell her own terror.
    The grass under her feet was slick as she tried to run. Her cowboy boots slid on it, torturously making her feel as though she were running in slow motion. When she fell to her knees, there was laughter from above her but it wasn’t friendly; it mocked her and chided her. “Mommy,” she cried piteously, calling for someone she hadn’t yearned for in years. “Mommy!”
    Then, the darkness settled over her and dragged her down, down, down until she was unable to breathe and simply clutched at her throat for air.
     

     
     
    S he knew this was a dream. She wasn’t caught up in it like she often was in her nightmares, but it didn’t make it any less terrifying. With Matt still sleeping on the other side, Taryn sat up in bed and let her feet rest on the cold hardwood floors. It was only 6:17 am and she didn’t technically need to be up for hours yet, but she doubted she could get back to sleep.
    A can of Coke and a shower later and she was starting to feel a little normal. The sadness clung to her like a heavy dress as she moved through the downstairs rooms. A young girl was undoubtedly dead, parents grieving, and a town confused. What had happened to Cheyenne? Was there any way she could help? If she went back to the farmhouse and walked