What Hides Inside: Bay City Paranormal Investigations, Book 2

think he would probably never have that for himself. For a while, he’d dared to hope he could have that with Bo. That they’d walk through Bienville Square hand in hand on fine summer mornings. Maybe take Bo’s sons to the beach or the Gulfarium, smile and laugh and steal kisses while the boys played.
    You’d probably be terrible with kids anyway. Sam turned away from the happy family scene outside the window.
    It wasn’t long before the door on the other side of the small living room opened and a teenage girl came shuffling through. She was petite, full-figured and pretty, with wavy reddish brown hair pulled into a disheveled ponytail and big, bright blue eyes that reminded Sam painfully of Amy. Her round cheeks were flushed pink, freckled snub nose red and blotchy as if she’d been crying. Gene stood behind her, hands protectively on her shoulders.
    “Karen wants to talk to you alone,” he said, sounding less than happy. “I’ll be in my bedroom, okay, sweetie?”
    “’K. Thanks, Daddy.” Karen patted his hand as he kissed her cheek and left the room.
    Cecile rose to her feet and smiled as she held out her hand. “Hi, Karen. I’m Cecile, and this is Sam. We’re from Bay City Paranormal Investigations.”
    “Yeah, I know, Daddy told me.” Karen shook Cecile’s hand, then Sam’s, her grip hesitant as if she wasn’t sure she should be doing it. “Mr. Innes said y’all are investigating the school.”
    “Yes, we are.” Cecile sat back down when Karen plopped into a chair. Sam did the same. “Mr. Innes tells us that many of the students have talked about seeing strange things in the tunnels under the school. Have you had any unusual experiences there, or heard about anyone else having them?”
    “I’ve never been in the tunnels. Patrick…” Karen bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. “He used to try to talk me into going down there with him. Not like skipping class or anything, just during lunch break and stuff. But I didn’t want to. My friend Sharla said the tunnels were full of bugs. I don’t like bugs.”
    “Karen, you don’t have to talk with us if you don’t feel up to it,” Sam said gently.
Karen stared at him with wide, watery eyes. “No, I want to. I wanna tell y’all what happened to Patrick.”
A jolt of adrenaline shot through Sam’s veins. Exchanging a quick glance with Cecile, he leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “Were you with him when he disappeared, Karen?”
The girl’s face crumpled. Snatching a tissue from a box beside the sofa, she blew her nose. “Yeah. I told the cops just exactly what I saw, but they didn’t believe me. They thought I was, like, just traumatized or something, you know?”
Sam tensed. Beside him, he felt Cecile do the same. “What happened?” Cecile asked, her voice soft and calm.
Drawing her knees up, Karen rested her chin on them and wrapped an arm around her legs. Her knuckles were white. “We were walking to class together. We were going from the Language Arts building to the main building, across the courtyard. And when we got near that big tree in the middle…”
She trailed off, staring at her toes. Her fingers trembled where they gripped her jeans. Concerned, Sam reached out and gently touched her hand. “Karen?”
The girl’s eyes shifted and focused on Sam’s face, full of shock and sorrow. “Something got him,” she whispered. “Everything got kind of dark and fuzzy, then the ground opened up and…something came out. And, and it grabbed Patrick, and dragged him into the ground. And then it was gone, and Patrick was gone, and I looked but I couldn’t find the place again.” Karen drew a deep, shuddering breath, ending on a sob. “They won’t find him. He’s dead, I know it. That…that thing, it was…it was…”
Sam knew what it was. All the hairs on his arms stood up as a hard chill raced over his skin. Glancing sideways, he saw his own cringing horror mirrored in Cecile’s face.
Slipping off the sofa, Cecile knelt beside Karen’s chair. “Are you okay, honey?”
Karen didn’t answer. “Do you think I’m crazy? Everyone else does.”
The girl’s blue eyes pleaded for understanding, and Sam felt a sharp pang of sympathy for her. She was utterly alone, burdened by a knowledge her teachers, her peers, and even her loving father couldn’t understand or believe. Sam knew the feeling all too well, having experienced the cautious looks and malicious whispers in his own youth, before he