Photographs in Time Read online

  Photographs in Time

  By Terry Segan

  For the people in my life that have supported, encouraged, tolerated, endured, and, at times, even loved me, this book is for you: Paul, Amber, Bree and Greg

  A special thanks to a wonderful group of writers, editors and friends: Brenda, Glory, Jessica, Logo, and Taylor

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission of the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Copyright © 2018 by Terry Segan

  All rights reserved

  Cover art by Bree Dagdagan

  Chapter 1

  Trying to reason with the distraught woman before me, I attempted a brief explanation of the process that led her to this time. “Amanda, somehow the Collector got this one wrong. All of the men are supposed to be thoroughly checked out and cleared as Suitors.”

  Amanda snapped her head back and glared at me. “Collector? What Collector? You’re not making any sense.”

  “Please, we’ve only got minutes left. The Collector interviews and researches the history of the men for a match then I, as the Photographer, match a Betrothed with an appropriate Suitor. Somehow, the photographs got switched. I didn’t know he was an imposter. Amanda, we can talk about this later. There’s too much to explain. Trust me. You’re in danger; Ronald isn’t the man he seems to be.” Why couldn’t I have found her sooner? I don’t blame her for not wanting to believe me. I needed more time. “Amanda, honey, you have to come back with me now,” I implored the young woman.

  “But you said I belong here. Ronald is my perfect match. Sami, you can’t dangle that in front of me then snatch it away. You just can’t!”

  Taking Amanda’s hands in mine, I tried again, “Look at me, honey. You must believe me. I was wrong about Ronald. He isn’t who we think he is at all. Please, we’re running out of time. I had twenty-four hours to find you and time is almost up. We only have eleven more minutes.”

  “How could you be wrong? Ronald is a sweet and loving soul. I knew from the moment I gazed into his eyes. All I saw there was love—for me! Nobody has ever looked at me the way he looks at me.”

  “We have to leave now. I will explain more when we get back.”

  “Back!? Sami, I’m not going back.” Panic crossed her features, and she yanked her hands out of mine. Eyes widening, she looked around as if surrounded by wild animals poised to pounce. “No. I won’t lose everything.”

  A lock of silver hair drifted across my cheek as I risked a glance at my Timex. Tucking the strand behind my ear, I see my window slipping away. Only eight minutes left. It had to be enough.

  Closing my eyes a moment, I searched for the right words to get Amanda to listen to reason—a tough sell in this already bizarre situation. I had to try. I wouldn’t lose another one!

  Gently, I reached out and took Amanda’s hands again. I wasn’t completely sure this would work, but if we stayed firmly connected, we should both be transported. Theoretically, my Collector said this would work. He himself had never done it before, but he knew of another who had tried. Unfortunately, that Collector loosened his grip at the moment of departure and only a portion of the other traveler returned with him.

  Even if Amanda didn’t believe me, I could keep talking and hope she wouldn't realize my plan. Suddenly the clock slowed. A moment ago, time moved swiftly, yet now when I needed it to expire, the minutes lagged. I mentally willed Amanda, Just stay connected.

  The younger woman looked lost—the effect exaggerated with her short, oversized dress cinched in at the waist, engulfing her petite frame. Luck had been on my side. I found Amanda at the bed and breakfast she set up residence in while being courted by Ronald. We always required the Suitor to offer a safe living space for the Betrothed for three to six months during their courtship.

  Getting her alone without drawing the attention of the innkeeper came easily. I wore an outfit befitting the time period and blended in well. We found Amanda nestled on a couch, paging through a copy of Good Housekeeping Magazine dated June 1963, the current month. It featured a picture of a woman wearing a bathing cap that looked like a head of lettuce.

  Since she obviously recognized me, the proprietor had discreetly allowed us privacy and left the room.

  The moments ticked down. “Honey,” I played for time, “I know you had your hopes up, and this can all be set right.” Only seconds remained. All I had to do was hold tight and keep her attention focused on me.

  The younger woman’s breathing slowed as my sense of forced serenity washed over her. The tense crinkles on Amanda’s forehead smoothed.

  Risking a glance at my watch, I saw the second-hand pass nine and then ten. Ten seconds to go.

  “Amanda! Who is this woman?” demanded a stern looking man from the study door, his six-foot two-inch stature filling the frame. “What is she doing to you?”

  Whipping her head around, Amanda snapped her hands from my grasp. “No,” I screamed, as I stared into those now familiar, icy blue eyes.

  A menacing smile spread across his face, looking even more demonic beneath his red hair. He mouthed the words, “You lose again.”

  I lunged forward in a desperate effort to grab the younger woman back to me. Despite my sixty-two years, I was as agile as I had been at forty-two. But it didn’t matter. Time was up.

  Chapter 2

  I opened my eyes and found myself lying face down on the floor of the photography studio—alone. Engraved in my mind I saw Ronald’s face, or at least Ronald was who he called himself this time. And he was right. I had lost again.

  Turning my head and glancing up at the row of portraits along the wall, the same face from moments ago stared back, impassive, in the third picture from the right. For the first time, I noticed the slight cocky tilt of the subject’s head and the almost wink of his left eye. If only Jimmy had looked at the photograph sooner, I never would have sent Amanda back. While the portraits on either side of Ronald’s contained happy, smiling couples, his arms remained empty, as I knew they would.

  Tears escaped the corners of my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. Resting my forehead on the floor, I pounded a fist on the carpet. The fullness of its fibers absorbed and muted the blow. Maybe it was time to retire. The risks had become too dear. These women trusted me with their lives, and now for a third time, I failed.

  I sensed someone walking across the carpet toward me. Recognizing the scent of Jimmy’s aftershave, I breathed it in like a healing elixir. It failed to soothe me in my present state.

  “It didn’t work,” he said flatly.

  “I had her. Jimmy, I had her! Amanda’s hands were firmly in mine.” I sobbed and struck the floor again.

  He knew when to be quiet and let me collect my thoughts. With them scattered across the universe, this could take a while. As I rolled over and sat up on the floor, I watched him cross the room and sit on the overstuffed couch against the wall. He quietly waited for me to go on. My lord, that man had the patience of a saint!

  “She wasn’t convinced,” I finally said.

  “You didn’t think she would give in easily, did you?”

  “I didn’t care if she did or not. All I had to do was hang on to her until time was up! With only seconds to spare, Ronald appeared.”

  Jimmy reminded me, “You mean Carney. Ronald is the persona he stepped into for that meet
ing.”

  “Did you ever find out what happened to the real Ronald Hauptman?”

  “Not a trace. With no immediate family, there wasn’t anybody to go looking either. Carney may have set up the man’s exit before leaving that decade. Even in the sixties, records weren’t always accurate.”

  Slowly rising to my feet, I went over to sit beside him. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head as I rested against his chest. Once again, I breathed in his aftershave. It had a fresh scent that reminded me of clean ocean air, though I couldn’t remember the name of it right now.

  Jimmy’s hand massaged my shoulder, trying to loosen the stiffness. I leaned heavier into him and tried to let his warmth comfort me. Like the scent of his aftershave, however, it wouldn’t work. I couldn’t escape the thoughts in my head that I sent another woman to her death. “I feel like I’m as much of a predator as Carney. Different methods with the same result.”

  “Sami, don’t even think that. What we do has apparently been around for decades. Maybe even centuries. How can those in charge allow it to continue if it were wrong?”

  “Those in charge? How can you say that?” I asked, sitting back and meeting his gaze. “We don’t even know who is in charge. We don’t know how this whole process came into being. For all we know, it was created to spread evil.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Jimmy told me. “You don’t believe that either, otherwise you would never have agreed to be a part of this process.”

  Had I ever really agreed? Or was I so infatuated with the man sitting beside me that I would have done anything to remain at his side? After he told me his fantastic story of how he became a Collector and needed a partner, I leapt and never looked back. While my dreams of love were fulfilled, did I have the right to meddle with the lives of others thinking I knew best for them too?

  Returning to the present, I asked Jimmy, “Were you able to find anything about Amanda in the archives?”

  “No. But now that you’re back, we’ll have to look again since…” He drifted off mid-sentence, rubbing my shoulders.

  I finished it for him, “…since I had the chance to save her but didn’t.”

  “That wasn’t what I was going to say!” His furrowed brows showed disappointment.

  “Not quite that way,” I looked into his vibrant blue eyes. Their color and oval shape had always intrigued me as his heritage was a mix of Chinese and Cherokee Indian. Jimmy broke the gaze and looked down. No matter how kindly he could have worded it, it meant the same. I had the chance to change her fate and failed. “You never told me how you know Carney.”

  He put both hands on his knees and fidgeted with the fabric of his trousers before replying. “I told you, Sami, he’s just another Collector like me. He got recruited by the same Frenchman.” Despite his nonchalant attitude, I felt there was more to this than he would admit. He didn't usually hold things back from me.

  “That much you told me,” I pushed, “but there’s more, isn’t there?”

  “Please, Sami, I feel bad enough we couldn't help Amanda.”

  “Save Amanda. You mean save Amanda. She wouldn’t have needed help if we’d never meddled in her life.”

  “Honey, this is what we do. We’ve helped many couples find love and happiness.”

  “Yes, but this is not a business. We don’t calculate the wins, then chalk it up to an occasional corporate loss when it means the loss of a life especially when the life of a vibrant, living being is snuffed out simply because we thought we could help her find love.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Jimmy stared at me again as I heard the escalation in his voice—the hurt obvious on his taut face.

  “I’m sorry. I do believe you know that. It just hurts that this is the third time a woman has died. We should have stopped after the second one. After we knew it wasn't a fluke, but the deliberate intention of Carney to kill them. Do you think it’s only our matches he’s targeting?”

  Again, Jimmy answered me while staring down at the ground. “I don’t know.” He wanted to say more yet wouldn’t release the words. We’d been together too long for me to misread his attempts at sheltering me from something bad.

  We sat in silence for a while. Both of us knew our next step but didn’t want to take it. Not able to sit idle any longer, I got up and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  I turned for a moment but decided words weren't necessary. My feet moved toward the office again.

  “Let me do it,” he said as he stood to follow.

  “Jimmy, whether I look up what happened to Amanda or you, the result will still be the same. You can’t shelter me from this one.”

  “Can’t I spare you the details of…”

  My determined glare stopped him cold.

  “All right,” he acquiesced. “My laptop is at my townhouse anyway. Go pull up the news from that week in 1963.”

  Despite knowing the result, I couldn’t stop myself. It would be horrible, but I needed to see the full scope of my failure. I owed it to Amanda, the one who endured it—the kind soul who entrusted me with her future. By sending her to the past, I had led her to her death.

  Heading into my office, I noticed the message light flashing on my answering machine. I saw there were two messages. Deciding to put off my research by a few more moments, I hit the playback button.

  The first message was left yesterday, only an hour after I traveled back to find Amanda. The chilling voice on the machine numbed me to the bone. “Hello, my sweet Samantha. Lost again, did you? Well, that’s ancient history now, isn’t it?” I heard a brief chuckle. “Don’t concern yourself with Amanda. I took really good care with her. But if you must torture yourself, as I know you will, I suggest you check out the following week of your visit. There you will find a good read in the San Francisco Chronicle. Au revoir for now, dear. Oh, and give Jimmy my regards, will you?”

  I froze, not sure I wanted to power up my laptop after all. As the debate raged in my head, the second message, from only forty-five minutes ago, played.

  This time I heard a woman’s voice. “Hi, Sami. It’s Dede. We met on the beach a couple of mornings ago? Well, I’ve thought a lot about what we talked about and you’re right. I do need a bit of fun. I was thinking of coming to your studio tomorrow afternoon as we discussed. Say about 2:00? Really looking forward to it! I checked out your website and your photographs look like fun. Okay, if I don’t hear from you otherwise, I’ll see you then!”

  Chapter 3

  An hour after I shut down my computer, Jimmy found me sitting on the front porch in one of the big wicker chairs. Carrying two glasses of Malbec, he handed me one, then sat down. He had left me alone while I did my research on Amanda.

  Sitting in the weakening rays of the late afternoon sun, we gazed out towards the ocean for a few minutes. My house sat up on a hill in Palos Verdes with a fantastic view, yet I didn’t see a thing. My eyes refused to focus.

  “Did you find her?”

  “Yes. The authorities found her floating in the harbor near Pier 39.” The monotone of my voice echoed feelings of sorrow and defeat. “She was reported missing by her fiancé, Ronald Hauptman, two days prior.”

  “Sami, it isn’t your fault,” he said quietly, placing his hand over mine.

  “I’m not up for this argument again.” My voice didn't rise above a whisper. “It's all our fault.”

  We sat in silence as the scent of the ocean encompassed us. Several hundred feet below the waves slapped the beach in a steady rhythm. I loved being close to the ocean. Every night, through the open windows of my bedroom, the sound of the surf lulled me to sleep. I knew it wouldn’t tonight.

  Bracing myself for the rest of what I discovered in the office, I broke the silence. “He was on the answering machine.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Carney. He’s taunting us.” My voice got higher and shrill. “Why would he do that? Why would he do any of this?” I sipped my
wine and rested my head against the back of the chair. Glancing over, I looked at him as my pulse raced.

  Taking a sip himself, Jimmy closed his eyes and leaned back also. I knew this burden weighed on him. There was more to Carney he hadn’t shared.

  “Tell me. The time for sheltering is over.” My gaze hardened. “We’re in this together and I can’t continue without knowing the truth.” Leaning closer to him, I demanded, “You owe me an explanation.”

  His eyes widened, and he turned my way. “I’m the one that brought you into this. It’s my burden, not yours.”

  “No. It’s too late for that. It’s ours.”

  “Sweetie, you don’t understand how hard this is for me.”

  Placing my hand on his arm, I said, “And you don’t understand how hard it is for me not knowing.” The warmth of his tan skin radiated through me. “You have to tell me. It’s no longer only yours to bear. I can’t begin to figure this out if I don’t know all the facts. Please.” His gaze met mine, and I saw resolution in it.

  “You’re right. It’s time you know everything. I’d hoped to spare you the history and the horror, but I see that’s no longer an option.” His fingers wrapped tighter around my hand.

  I squeezed back in encouragement.

  Withdrawing his hand and wrapping it around the bowl of the wine glass with the other, he began. “Remember the story I told you of how I became a Collector?”

  “Yes. The Frenchman came into your grandfather’s antique shop where you worked sometimes. He’s the Collector that passed this on to you.”

  “Correct. But that isn’t entirely true.”

  “Which part?” I sat up removing my hand from his arm. A gusty breeze swept across the porch rattling the window screens as if to emphasize my feelings of betrayal that Jimmy had lied to me.