Ultimate Supernatural Horror Box Set

DECEMBER

“Too bad all the equipment burned up,” Cody said.

Wayne didn’t think it was bad at all. Some things were better left as mysteries. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life reviewing audio files and video clips, trying to determine what was real and what wasn’t.

The inn was a brittle, black skeleton, wobbling on a few support beams as if a strong wind would push it over. December was underway, a few snow flurries twisting in the air among the ashes. That should do the trick.

Nine bodies had been found in the wreckage. All were considered victims of the fire, including three staff members and the manager, Janey Mays. Rodney Froehmer’s injuries had been caused when a pipe burst from the basement ceiling, and the initial investigation pointed to Rodney as the cause of the fire. He’d been messing around with accelerants, and for some unknown reason had been trying to start a fire in the old rusty furnace below.

“The court would take everything anyway,” Wayne said. “Once the civil trials start.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kendra said.

Sure, it was. In ways you’ll never know.

“That doesn’t matter, honey,” he said. “People always need somebody to blame.”

He should know. He had God to blame. Not that it was getting him anywhere. Maybe one day he’d get on his knees, or get out an Ouija board and look for Beth again, make a few more promises.

The three of them stood behind the yellow tape that marked off the investigation scene. The fire had scorched the lawn, and the wind played through the surrounding trees, bare branches clashing and tangling.

They were sequestered at the Holiday Inn in Boone, waiting for the authorities to finish identifying the victims. It could take a while. They might even be spending Christmas in the mountains.

“Do you think it was Margaret?” Cody said. The investigators had discovered the bones of an adult woman walled off in the basement. In her abdominal cavity were the tiny bones of a fetus. The bones were old, and the DNA tests conducted on them had yet to return a match.

“Probably.”

“Why don’t you guys let it go?” Kendra said. “All we know is what we saw. Everybody thinks we sucked down too much carbon monoxide.”

“They have a way of covering their tracks,” Cody said. “They’ve been doing this awhile.”

“Demons,” Wayne said. “What do you expect?”

Two members of SSI had been killed, and the group’s Web site had been visited so many times the server had crashed. Three networks had already called with offers, but they were more interested in Cody than Digger. Paranormal enthusiasts around the world had posted their own theories about what had happened at the White Horse Inn. All of them were wrong.

“Let’s roll,” Wayne said. He climbed behind the wheel of the SSI van and closed the door. Kendra got in the passenger seat and Cody bounded into the cargo area.

Kendra was already opening her sketch pad. He’d bought her a new one the day after the fire, while she was recovering. She was busy with Big Fattie, wearing out the last of the lead. She had developed a new set of characters with gruesome, demonic faces, and she could hardly wait for Emily Dee to kick them back to the far side of hell.

Cody had suffered a few second-degree burns and minor lung damage, but, as he put it, it would have been a lot worse if that Bruce kid hadn’t led them through the blinding smoke.

Wayne glanced at his daughter, wondering whether her halo would come in black or gold.

She looked up from her sketch pad and caught him. “Dad, how did you know I was in 318?”

“I saw you in the window.”

“But you were in the back of the hotel. I was at the front window.”

Wayne started the engine. She looks a lot like you, Beth.

“Where there’s a demon, there’s an angel to balance it out,” he said. “Or so the theory goes.”

“Hey,” Cody called from the rear of the van. “I thought you were finally a believer.”

“Prove it.”

As he wheeled down the drive to the highway, he glanced in the rearview mirror at the charred bones of the White Horse. He half expected to see Beth’s face, or the smoky shape of a laughing spirit, or perhaps just a hole in the sky that led to heaven.

Nothing.

Just like always.

THE END

Scott’s newsletter: http://eepurl.com/tOE89