Oleander House: Bay City Paranormal Investigations, Book 1

ignore what’s happening anymore. You’re my friend. So’s Janine. I love you both. You’re fucking up Janine’s life as well as your own.”
Bo leaned toward her, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t know a fucking thing about it.”
“The hell I don’t,” Amy shot back. “Who do you think Janine talks to? Who do you think she calls when she needs a shoulder to cry on?”
Silence. Bo stared at the ground. Amy stared at Bo, fingers still digging into his arm. Helpless anger radiated from her. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and sad.
“I know you and Janine haven’t been… Well, that you haven’t been intimate for a long time. If you think everything’s okay with her, then you’re deluding yourself.”
A longer silence this time. A bird trilled in a tree nearby, cutting through the drone of insects. Bo didn’t look up, and Amy didn’t look away from his face.
“You have to make a decision here,” Amy continued finally. “Either own up to what you are, admit you made a mistake and break it off with Janine, or learn to ignore what you want and fucking make your marriage work. You know which option I’d pick. I hate seeing you torture yourself like this.”
Bo didn’t say a word. He shook loose of Amy’s grip, turned away and stalked into the mudroom next to the kitchen.
Sam, engrossed in the conversation and still reeling from what Amy had said, didn’t even have time to move away from the window. Luckily Bo’s purposeful stride took him straight past the door to the sun porch without a single glance to either side. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He made it back to the kitchen before Amy got to the door, and was pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee when she came in.
“Hi,” Sam said, managing to sound casual. “Where’s everybody?”
Amy narrowed her eyes for a second, then smiled. “David and Cecile headed off to Gautier a little while ago. Bo just came in from running, you must’ve seen him.”
Sam ignored the suspicious glitter in Amy’s eyes. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I did. Don’t think he saw me though. He didn’t come in here, just went straight through into the parlor.”
“Yeah, he was in kind of a hurry.”
“So where’s Andre?” Sam leaned against the counter and took a sip of coffee.
“Still sleeping.” Taking a mug from the cabinet, Amy poured herself a cup of coffee. “He didn’t sleep much last night.”
Sam glanced sidelong at Amy’s worried face. “Nightmares again?”
“Mm-hm.” She sighed. “They’re getting worse, too. One night, or even two, is a fluke. Three nights of increasingly horrible dreams is a pattern.”
Sam nodded his agreement. “Any idea what might be causing it?”
“Nothing concrete. I have my theories though.” Amy turned and pinned him with a penetrating stare. “Andre said you’d had nightmares too. Are yours following that same pattern? Are they getting worse?”
Sam’s guts twisted. He most definitely did not want to discuss the content of his dreams with Amy. “I mostly don’t remember them,” he hedged, “but I think they are. I mean, when I wake up I have the impression of some pretty awful things. Just bits and pieces, you know, but enough to make me think the dreams are escalating.”
“Hm.” Amy chewed her thumbnail. “I think I’ll talk to Cecile when she gets back. See if she’s having dreams too.”
“Good idea. You know what, I’m glad she turned out not to be a fake. She could add a lot to this investigation now that she knows her input is valuable without adding all sorts of bells and whistles to it.”
“Absolutely.”
They both fell silent. Sam sipped his coffee and tried not to let his nervousness show. Amy set her mug on the counter with a clunk and turned to Sam, blue eyes full of determination.
“Sam,” she began, then stopped, brow furrowed.
Sam swallowed. “Yes?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m gonna go check on Andre. See you later.”
Sam watched her go. Christ, she knows, he thought as he drained his coffee cup and set it in the sink. She knows it all, and what the fuck am I gonna do now?

Chapter Nine
    With no more video or audio to review and no direction from the group leaders, Sam didn’t know quite what to do with himself. He ended up spending the remainder of the morning sitting on the porch outside his room, staring at the tall oleanders and thinking. Part of him wanted to pack his belongings and leave, forget about the strange things he’d experienced here.