At night , if I dreamed at all, I dreamed of my firmer existence in a backwater town in the bayous of Louisiana . The thick, ugly scent of the swamp..the heat of summer. I remembered the shadowy gloom of the stately homes, gone to ruin, and the tensions hidden behind polite facades.There were secrets, dangerous ones, demons... and not the made up, pretend kind. The real life, rip your heart out kind, haunt you until your dying day type. It came from loneliness ,loss , and overwhelming heartache. I keftbtown the day I turned eighteen, turned the jet in the beaten up Mustang, hit the highway . The FBI accepted me, and now I was assigned to the Weird Squad they call us. We investigate cases no one else wil.