Chapter 54

“There are instincts which are deeper than reason.”

-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Nightmare Room

After awhile, Ranger Anderson retreated to his vehicle to catch up on some paperwork.

Tom watched him. “He’s a nice guy, but this is a nightmare.”

I nodded. “Try not to think about that now. At least the fire is completely out. They sprayed foam over everything to put out any lingering embers so it won’t flare up again.”

“DD, I can’t believe what’s happened. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

We looked bad. We were singed and wet and filthy, and I had no reserves. I hated to think how Tom felt. “I guess we’re in shock. Wolfie too.”

Tom stared at the ground and said, “DD, I know this may sound crazy, but before we leave, maybe we should go see if anything’s left of the manuscript and the Doyle notes.”

I was not at all sure I could go back in there to see again where Morgan had died.

“I’d like to believe something might be left, Tom, but everything in there is burnt to a crisp. If it wasn’t, that foam they sprayed finished it off.”

“I know you’re probably right, DD, but somehow I can’t leave without taking a last look. C’mon around the other side where Anderson can’t see.” He stood up, walked a few steps and stopped.

I took his arm. “I’m dizzy,” he said.

“Here, lean on me.” I tried to steer him back to the bench. “Let’s go sit down again for awhile. We don’t have to do this now.” I didn’t want to do it at all.

“We won’t get another chance, DD. This is a small police force, but when the forensic guys get here, they’ll take over the site. You know that better than I do. If they find something, we’ll never get to see it. It’ll be taken as evidence and get locked away for a million years.”

He turned us both toward the side door, and we hobbled arm in arm through the smoke and the darkness with Wolfie trailing behind. I knew this meant a lot to him, and I guess I had to admit that I was curious myself to see if anything could have survived the fire.

By the time we found the side door, we were well out of Ranger Anderson’s sight. We entered, leaving Wolfie outside to guard. I suppose he was smarter than we were.

Smoke filled the huge room making it difficult to breathe. The heavy, wet air smelled nasty. We both coughed.

The interior was littered with charred remains. Nothing was recognizable. Everything looked completely different, surreal in the flashlight beam.

“You okay?” I asked Tom as he bent over coughing.

“It’s awful,” he managed to say, still coughing.

“I know. And I can’t get my bearings.”

“Me either,” he agreed, looking around.

We stepped carefully here and there as the flashlight illuminated piles of wet and burnt debris. There were no touchstones, like a sofa here or a chair there, and it was impossible to determine the spot where the kerosene lamp had spewed its liquid fire over Green and Dunbar.

“They took out what was left of the bodies,” I said gently. “They were pretty charred. I couldn’t tell where they were in all this debris.”

“There’s something, DD,” Tom pointed.

I saw that it was what was left of one of Grace Dunbar’s leather boots. It no longer resembled the pair I’d lusted after.

“This appears to be the path made by the firemen and ambulance people.” I ran the beam along a rough path from the door to where the boot lay. We could see tracks left by firemen’s’ boots.

“Keep looking around this area,” I said. If anything survived, it will be here somewhere.”

“I feel sick,” Tom said. “You keep looking, DD.”

“Here, hold this.” He took the flashlight with his one good arm and focused the beam around the boot while I knelt and gently sifted through the debris. The top layer was wet and soggy. Nothing was recognizable. I kept prying up wet layers until I reached something that felt dry.

“Shine the light here, Tom. There’s less debris. This could be where Grace or Phillip fell.”

I gently raked the spot with my fingernails. I snagged something.

“Give me that light,” I ordered. He clumsily passed it over.

I put the light close to the ashes. There was a small bit of brown paper.

“DD, that could be part of the envelope,” Tom said excitedly as he crouched down next to me.

I couldn’t tell whether it was the envelope or some of the papers inside the envelope that had been affected by the heat. But I knew we were in the right place.

Just then we heard Wolfie whine. We paused, listening. It could be Officer Anderson or the forensic team. I was nervous.

I turned off the flashlight. “Don’t move,” I whispered.

We waited in the dark with the smoke and the stench making me feel sick.

“Okay, shine the light down on that spot again,” I told him.

He was swaying on his feet but managed to keep the light on the area. “Maybe we’ll find something,” he said hopefully.

I didn’t think we would in this mess, but I said nothing.

Tom looked terrible even in the limited light. I knew he wasn’t going to hold up much longer. We had to hurry.

I gently slid a flat board from the debris along the floor line, trying to insert it under the scrap of brown I’d seen. Something moved in the pile of powdery ash.

“There’s something,” Tom said and brought the flashlight beam closer.

I repeated the process on the other side of the pile of ashes, gently inserting it under the ash, hoping for a miracle.

I gently lifted the board and its contents out of the ashes. Maybe we were going to recover something after all. “Tom, look, this isn’t all burned.” As I said it, I realized with a jolt of horror that someone’s body must have shielded this from the fire.

I very gently lifted the board. Ash fell away and I could see some scraps of the brown folder. Was this all that was left of the bonds and of Doyle’s manuscript of The White Company?”

Then I saw a piece of brown leather.

“That’s part of the cover of Grange’s diary,” Tom said, reaching for it. “I recognize it.”

I held it up and my heart sank. The rest of the diary was ashes.

Tom shook his head. “If this is all that’s left of the diary, then nothing else survived the intense heat.”

Our eyes were watering and breathing wasn’t easy. That spray foam filled my nostrils with an odor I hoped I’d never smell again as long as I lived.

I cleared the ash away from around the leather fragment.

“We’ll take this with us,” Tom said and reached for it.

As I was about to dump the ash from beneath the cover back into the pile, I saw something else. “Tom. Shine that light here again.”

“Look,” I pointed. “There’s something there under what’s left of the diary.”

I gently shook the board to remove the remaining ash and gently disturbed the pile of debris. At the bottom of the pile were some pages, folded tightly together, undoubtedly saved from burning by the leather cover and the thickness of the diary.

“They’re charred,” Tom pointed. Maybe they’re the bonds Dodd was talking about.”

“I don’t think so,” I told him excitedly.

“Hold your breath, DD. Let’s see what it is.” He moved forward and handed me the flashlight.

Tom carefully lifted the folded papers. Amazingly they held together, even though the edges were burned and the color of the paper was unrecognizable.

It was evident that Tom had experience in handling delicate papers. His movements were sure and confident as he gently unfolded them on top of the board using the tip of his small finger.

“Ohmygosh, be careful. They might disintegrate.” I was so intense, the flashlight beam was bouncing.

“Hold the light steady, DD.”

He blew gently on the papers and more ash wafted in the air outlined in the flashlight’s beam. I stifled another cough.

“DD, look. I think we found what we were looking for!”