CHAPTER 23
Grandpa read the last words and closed the book. He felt an odd sense of relief, but not enjoyable one. He stared at the cover, pondering.
“What did you do to us? You’re not a gift... you’re a curse.”
He went to the fireplace and threw the book in.
He watched the corners of the book darken and heard the pop as the glue caught fire. The flames flickered and red glints of embers floated up.
“And to all a good night, indeed,” he muttered. With that, he slowly turned and walked to the stairs, not noticing the one stray ember that floated out and up from the fireplace.
Nor did he see the ember land in a pile of discarded Christmas paper.
*
“So what do you think happened here?” Rick Turnbill asked his partner Frank Bates as the two firemen slogged their way through the sodden rubble of the building.
“I don’t know. It’s weird. I mean, it’s seems like there was some kind of accelerant used. Five bodies charred beyond recognition. The whole place burned to the ground. How long was it burning before anyone noticed? I mean, there’s nothing left. I’ve never seen a house fire like this.”
“It’s Christmas. They probably had candles burning, paper by an outlet, dry tree. Maybe they left a fire burning in the fireplace.”
They walked over to the bricks; the only part of the house that didn’t seem to have burned. Frank kicked at the ashes there. “Well, it wasn’t a lit fireplace.”
“How do you know?”
“Look.”
Rick looked down into the ashes Frank had kicked away. “What the hell?”
Frank bent over and reached down. “It’s a book. Perfectly clean. Not a mark on it.” He turned it back and forth. “How is that possible?”
“You got me. Maybe the ashes protected it?”
“Yeah, right,” Frank studied the cover, then turned it over and read. Never Fear—Christmas Terrors. Twenty-two tales of terror.”
“It sure was a tale of terror for this family,” Rick said.
“Now this is strange.” Frank had flipped to the table of contents. “The cover says there are twenty-two stories, but in the beginning here there are twenty-three listed. The last one’s called: A Family Christmas Terror.” He frowned. “You don’t think this story has—”
“Don’t be stupid. Throw it out.”
“Naw, I think I’ll keep it. Bridget and I are going to Cancun for New Year’s.” He held up the book in his hand. “I can read it on the plane.”
“Whatever. Let’s get back to the station.”