“It’s hard to make sense of so many of the things that happen in this world,” Cal said. “Terrible, unthinkable things happen every day. It’s faith that sees us through. Faith that there’s something better waiting for us.”
“Those dear sisters,” the chief said. “They are missed, but they are also remembered. Isn’t that right?”
The others all nodded at that.
“In the end, maybe that’s the best anyone can ask for,” Ben said. He drained his glass.
“What’s that?” Lisbeth asked.
Everyone at the table turned, and at first Ben thought that they were looking at him. Then he pivoted to see an orange glow lighting the room’s large windows. He walked to the nearest window, but the glass was too heavily frosted for him to see through it.
“We haven’t been here all night, have we?” Henry joked. He looked at his watch. The light looked like the sunrise, except it came from the west.
“Ben?” Caroline said from her seat.
“I’ll look,” he said.
The dining room had French doors that opened onto the veranda, but they were locked and Ben didn’t have the keys with him. He headed for the front door. Jake, Cal, and Chief Stanton followed him.
“Looks like a fire,” the chief said. “But I can’t guess what could be burning out there.”
“The elder tree,” Jake said. “That’s what’s out there.”
“What’s that?” Cal asked.
“Our oldest tree. Been here since the beginning. Since Aldrich Swann cleared the rest of the forest,” the chief said.
Ben pulled open the door to see that Jake was right.
The great elm on the lip of the Drop was on fire. Orange flames washed over its branches like infernal foliage. Even at the distance of a hundred yards, Ben could hear the tree crackling. The snow danced in the unexpected light. An hour ago the Drop had seemed as stark as a charcoal sketch; now it blazed.
Ben looked down and realized he’d run out into the snow toward the tree. The snow was almost to his knees. The tree had been the size of a torch from the veranda, but the flames now encompassed most of his field of vision. His face burned, but his feet were cold. He felt a hand yank him backward.
“Too close,” Cal said. “One gust of wind will send the flames into us.”
Chief Stanton helped pull Ben back. “Can’t do anything about it,” he told him. “Lucky it’s too far from the house to be a danger.”
“Lucky it’s not summertime, with the grass all long and dry,” Jake said.
“What did this?” Ben asked. “Lightning?”
They all looked at the sky. The stars were hidden by clouds, but there was no evidence of electrical activity.
“Woulda heard the thunder, wouldn’t we, Chief?” Jake asked.
“Weather’s strange on the Drop,” the chief said. Ben watched as the man’s eyes wandered to the edge of the north woods.
“Should I call 911?” Ben asked.
“Call them.” The chief began to walk around to the other side of the tree. “Tell them I’m here and to send the North Hampstead volunteers over.”
Ben pulled out his phone and began dialing.
“Strange, isn’t it?” he heard Cal say. “Oddly beautiful. The flames and the snow and the darkness.”
“I’m seeing it with my own eyes and I can’t believe it,” Jake said. “That tree was as old as the mountains.”
Ben spoke to the 911 operator, pacing as he talked. Wetness from the snow climbed the legs of his pants. He figured he’d ruined these shoes. The operator said they were sending an engine over.
“This place has some trouble with fire, doesn’t it?” Cal asked him.
Ben felt something in his chest shift position. It was one thing to burn a dry shed at the height of summer, but could anything in The Book of Secrets advise someone on how to set a frozen tree ablaze? The Crofts glowed with reflected light as he searched its windows for small faces. Some of the guests approached through the snow. They’d taken the time to put on their winter gear, and Ben felt colder looking at them.
“How? How?” was all Caroline was able to say when she reached him.
“I don’t know.” He glanced back at the Crofts, but it revealed nothing. “The fire department is coming.”
“Footprints here,” the chief called. “Don’t get too close now. Evidence.”
Ben followed the chief’s own tracks in an arc around the burning tree. When he got there, he could see two sets of footprints. One led to the tree, the other headed away, toward the north woods.
“What size would you say?” Ben asked.
“Fourteen or bigger,” the chief said. “Some big feet.”
A blast of static came from the baby monitor on his belt.
“It sometimes acts up if I get too far from the house,” Ben told the chief. Then he heard Bub crying. The boy hardly cried, even when he woke up in the middle of the night. He usually talked to himself until he fell back to sleep.
“No reason for all of us to be out here,” Ben said. “We should at least get our coats.”
Another sound came from the monitor. A man’s low growl: “It’s okay, baby. Be quiet, baby.”
Ben and the chief both stared at the monitor. The chief took off first, running for the house. Caroline asked Ben a question as he ran past, but he didn’t hear it. The house seemed far away, and the snow slowed them.
He saw Henry Bishop by the front door in his jacket. The man’s head was jutted forward, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He opened his mouth as the chief approached him, but something he saw made him shut it again.
Ben got inside just after the chief.
“Which room?” the chief yelled. His face was red enough for it to be on fire, and his eyes blazed, too.
Ben took the lead up the central stairs. They ran down the second-floor hallway for Bub’s room. When they got there, the room was empty. Ben ran to the crib, but it, too, was empty.
“What about Charlie?” the chief asked.
“Next door,” Ben said, pointing. He couldn’t feel his legs.
Charlie’s room was also empty. Ben ripped through the bedclothes, looking for him.