Where The Heart Is: A Bay City Paranormal Investigations story

sitting on top of the dresser. He frowned. It had still been on the kitchen table when he and Sommer came into the bedroom, which meant Sommer must’ve found it and brought it in here.
It took Dean a moment to notice the headphones attached to the device. His stomach turned over when the implications hit him.
Sommer had listened to the recorder. Which meant he’d heard what Rich said about his mother. Which in turn meant he knew about the missing diary. And if he’d come to the same conclusion Dean had, as he almost certainly would…
Dean snatched his sweatpants off the floor and yanked them on, ignoring the spike of pleasure-pain that shot through him when the waistband caught on the cock plug. Sommer was going to need him when he found his mother’s diary.
Chapter Twelve
    Dean pulled his shirt on, then opened the bedroom door and padded barefoot into the hallway. He followed the hum of voices and the mouthwatering scent of roast beef into the kitchen.
    Lisa looked up and smiled as he walked in. “Hi, Dean. I didn’t know you were here.”
    “You must be deaf, then,” Carol declared, hurrying in from the dining room and hefting a platter of pot roast from the counter. She grinned. “Have a nice nap?”
He managed a smirk in the interest of keeping the two women from suspecting anything might be wrong. “Very nice, thanks.” He glanced around. “Where’s Sommer? I need to ask him something,” he added when he saw the teasing spark in Carol’s eyes.
“He went upstairs.” Lisa scooped the last of the buttery mashed potatoes into a huge bowl and turned to face Dean. “He ought to be back down soon. You joining us for dinner? You’re welcome to eat with Carol, Sommer and me in here or with the guests in the dining room.”
“I’m not hungry right now, but I’ll probably grab some later. It smells great.” He smiled, doing his best to keep his face relaxed. “See y’all later.”
Both women headed into the dining room, arms laden with food. Dean waited until he was out of sight before breaking into a run. He took the stairs two at a time, jogged down the upstairs hallway and skidded to a stop in front of the closed door of the old sewing room. Drawing a deep breath, he turned the knob and pushed the door open.
Sommer sat on the edge of the bed, a small book with pale blue pages open on his lap. Dean moved forward, sat beside Sommer and rested a hand on his arm.
He didn’t ask what the book was. He knew, and Sommer knew he knew.
“You found your mom’s diary,” Dean said, watching Sommer’s face.
Sommer nodded. “It was under the drawer. The one place we never looked. It must’ve fallen behind the drawer when I opened it to clean it out.”
“Probably so.”
Sommer lifted his face to meet Dean’s gaze. The stricken look in his eyes made Dean’s chest constrict. “She found out she had cancer. She’d known it for months, and she didn’t tell me. Neither of them ever told me. Why? How could they leave me in the dark about something like this?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did.” Shifting closer, Dean wound an arm around Sommer’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
Sommer gave him a wan smile. “I guess I should look on the bright side of things.”
“The bright side?”
“Yeah.” Sommer spread one hand over the words scrawled across the page. “The last thing my mother wrote in here was that she and Dad were thinking about going to some natural healing center up in Vermont. This is the first lead I’ve ever had on where to find them.”
Oh God. He thinks his mother’s still alive. Dread coiled in the pit of Dean’s stomach. “So, you think that’s where they disappeared to? Vermont?”
“Well, it’s a place to start looking, at least, which is more than I had before.” Sommer frowned. “You have a really strange look on your face right now, Dean. What are you thinking about?”
Dean stared into Sommer’s eyes, frozen with indecision. Should he tell Sommer he believed his mother was dead? Or should he give in to the heartbreaking hope in Sommer’s face and tell him what he wanted to hear? After all, Dean had no way of knowing for sure if Sunny Skye was dead. For all he knew, Sommer was right, and his parents had simply gone to New England in pursuit of a cure for his mother’s cancer.
The problem was, Dean didn’t believe that. His gut told him the sorrowful spirit haunting the Blue Skye Inn was indeed Sunny Skye. It explained everything, from the dresser drawer to the