What Hides Inside: Bay City Paranormal Investigations, Book 2

back. One of the paramedics climbed in with him, while the other hurried around to the driver’s side door.
“We’re taking him to Mobile General,” the man said as he heaved himself behind the wheel. “The emergency room’s around back, just follow the signs. Y’all know how to get there?”
“Yeah,” David answered, his eyes suspiciously wet. “Just get him there, and take care of him. We’ll be along in a little while.”
Watching the ambulance drive away, Sam felt desperate and helpless. He jumped when Dean’s hand slid into his.
“Go get in the SUV, Sam,” Dean said softly. “You’re going with Andre and David to the hospital.”
Sam let Dean lead him to the SUV and open the door for him. “What about you and Cecile?”
“We’re going to collect that…that thing and take it to Dean’s friend.” Cecile gave him a watery smile. “We’ll come on over as soon as we’re done.”
“Okay.” Sam squeezed Dean’s hand as Andre and David climbed into the front seat, with Andre behind the wheel. “See you there. Be careful.”
Dean nodded, let go of Sam’s hand and shut the door. Leaning his forehead against the window, Sam shut his eyes. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out the terse conversation from the front seat.
    Please let him be okay. I can’t lose him. Not now. Not like this.
Opening his eyes and gazing out at the city rushing past, Sam wondered if anyone was listening.
    Three hours later, Sam sat curled in a chair in the surgery waiting room at Mobile General Hospital, staring out the tinted window at an enclosed garden. Winter sunshine filtered through the bare branches of the trees, gilding the white angel statue in the middle of the garden. It was a peaceful spot. Sam wished that peacefulness would seep through the glass and into his mind.
    He looked up when David shuffled over, carrying two cups of coffee from the coffee cart in the lobby. “Here you go,” David said, thrusting a steaming Styrofoam cup into Sam’s hands. “One extra-large high test. Heard anything?”
    “Thanks.” Holding the cup under his nose, Sam took a deep breath of espresso-scented steam. “Haven’t heard a word yet.”
    “Figures.” David sank into the chair next to Sam’s with a deep sigh. “What about Dean and Cecile, have they called?”
    “I just called Cecile,” Andre answered, sticking his cell phone in his pocket. “There was a big wreck on Airport Boulevard, they’re stuck in traffic.”
    “Ah, damn.” Slouching in his seat, David took a sip from his coffee cup. “Did they find the phone number for Janine’s folks?”
    “No. It wasn’t anywhere at the office.” Andre sighed. “Bo’s probably got the number at his place, or maybe it’s just in his head.”
    “We’ll ask Bo when he wakes up,” Sam said, staring at the plastic lid of his cup.
Neither David nor Andre answered, but Sam felt their discomfort. He knew what they were thinking— what if Bo didn’t wake up? Sam refused to consider that possibility.
When they’d arrived at the hospital, they’d learned that Bo was being rushed to surgery, though no one would tell them why. The only reason the nurse in charge had agreed to let them talk to the doctor after surgery was the fact that Janine, Bo’s legal next of kin, was out of town and no one knew how to reach her. When David wondered why they didn’t just ask Bo, he was told Bo had lost consciousness in the ambulance.
Sam had never felt more helpless in his life. The feeling hadn’t faded with the passing hours, either. Shifting in his chair, Sam sipped his coffee without tasting it.
The waiting room door swung open and a tall, thin man in blue scrubs walked in. Sam looked up, along with everyone else in the room. The man in the scrubs frowned at a scrap of paper in his hand. “Mr. Meloy? Andre Meloy?”
Shooting a wide-eyed glance at David and Sam, Andre jumped to his feet. “I’m Andre Meloy.”
The man gave a crisp nod. “I’m Dr. Shore. We’ve just finished Dr. Broussard’s surgery. He’s stable at present and doing well. He’ll be going to the intensive care unit shortly.”
“What sort of surgery did you do?” Andre asked. “No one would tell us anything, since we’re not next of kin.”
“His wife’s at her parents’ house,” David added. “None of us knows their number, or Janine’s cell number. We’ve got some friends trying to find the numbers, but no luck so far.”
Dr. Shore’s eyebrows went up. “Very well.