Where The Heart Is: A Bay City Paranormal Investigations story

Skye?” Kerry scrunched her nose. “You’re crazy.”
“Apparently.” Dean pushed away from the table, stood and stretched. “And yes, Ron, it does take me that long. I’m slow.”
Kerry snorted. “You’re not slow, Ron just has those freaky-ass mile-long legs, so he can ride faster. An hour’s about average for us normal people.”
Laughing, Dean bent and gave Kerry a hug. “Thanks for the moral support. So, y’all are coming out for karaoke tomorrow night, aren’t you?”
“Yep, we’re planning on it,” Ron confirmed. “We’ll see you then.”
“Yeah, see you.”
Dean left with a final wave to his friends and walked out into the cool, sunny afternoon. It wasn’t until he’d strapped on the borrowed helmet and straddled Sommer’s bike that he realized what he’d said just moments ago in the restaurant.
Home, he’d said. I promised Sommer I’d be home.
“Home,” he whispered, testing the feel of the word on his tongue. It felt good to attach that word to Sommer. It felt right.
But it wasn’t right. In less than a week, he’d be on a plane headed back to Mobile. Back to his life. A life that didn’t include Sommer.
God, I may never see him again.
A gnawing pain hit Dean square in the chest. He bent over the handlebars of the bike, trying to get control of the emotions roiling inside him.
When the ache faded, he straightened up, mounted the bike and pulled out into the road. With any luck, the afternoon traffic would keep him busy enough to drive away thoughts of losing the unexpected happiness he’d found.
    ~ * ~
    Friday night and Saturday passed in a blur for Dean. He knew he was acting withdrawn and pensive, and he knew Kerry, Ron and especially Sommer were worried. But he couldn’t help it. The specter of leaving Chapel Hill had nested itself deep in his chest, and nothing he did would make it go away.
    By Sunday morning, Dean could barely summon the energy to talk to Rich. Solving the mystery of the Blue Skye Inn’s melancholy ghost just didn’t seem important compared with the fact that in four days, the ghost and the inn and Sommer would all be in Dean’s past.
    The thing that made Dean sit down in the parlor with Rich and ask his questions was Sommer himself. Sommer needed this thing resolved. He needed to know who haunted him, and why. Kerry’s search for deaths in the house had proven fruitless. Rich was their last hope for an answer. Which meant that Dean was going through with the interview. The need to help Sommer superseded everything else, including his own apathy.
    Parked in the chair where Sommer had fucked him not so long ago, Dean switched on the audio recorder and twisted around to face Rich, who sat on the love seat at right angles to Dean’s chair. “Okay, Rich. First of all, have you ever seen or heard anything here that you’d describe as paranormal?”
    Rich shook his head. “No.”
“Have any guests or other staff told you about any experiences they might’ve had?” “No.” Rich ran a hand over his graying buzz cut. “Oh, well, Lisa saw the ghost that
    one time when she was in the kitchen with Sommer. Other than that, no.” “What about before Sommer arrived here? Did you ever see or hear of anything
happening when Sommer’s parents still ran the place?”
“No.”
An unexpected question popped into Dean’s head. He asked it before he could
question his own instincts. “Were Sommer’s parents…all right?”
Rich gave him a strange look. “All right how? They were nice people. A little weird,
but nice. Good bosses.”
“No, I mean were they…?” Dean scratched his chin, trying to think of a subtle way
to ask. Unable to come up with anything, he decided to be blunt. “Would you have any
reason to think either or both of them might be dead?”
The color drained from Rich’s face. He glanced toward the archway into the hall.
“Uh. I…I don’t know.”
“Sommer’s not here,” Dean said, guessing that Rich didn’t want Sommer to hear
what he had to say. “He’s gone to get groceries. Whatever you tell me here is
confidential.” Dean hoped he wouldn’t end up breaking that promise.
Rich stared at his hands clasped in his lap. “Sunny—that’s Sommer’s mom—was
sick for a few months before they went missing. She never said anything to any of us, but
you could tell she wasn’t well. She lost a lot of weight, and her color was off. And she
seemed exhausted all the time.”
Dean’s insides clenched. God. Poor Sommer. “So,