Fire Spirit by Graham Masterton Page A

me?’
    â€˜Maybe he’s got a crush on you.’
    â€˜Oh, get serious. He’s only about twelve.’
    â€˜I used to get crushes on women when I was twelve. I was desperately in love with Jane Fonda for about six months.’
    He looked toward the house and saw Amelia behind the front door. ‘What’s Ammy doing home? And come to that, what are you doing home?’
    Ruth told him. He went inside and put his arm around Amelia and asked her if she was feeling better.
    â€˜I am now that boy’s gone.’
    â€˜What’s the poor kid ever done to you?’ Craig asked her.
    â€˜He’s not a poor kid. He’s a creepy kid.’
    â€˜Well, we can’t have any creepy kids giving you the willies, can we? If you see him again, just you tell me, and I’ll chase him away.’
    They went through to the living-room. Craig immediately went to the drinks table and poured himself a large glass of Jack Daniel’s.
    â€˜ Craig ,’ Ruth admonished him.
    He raised his glass to her in salute. ‘I know. But after the morning I’ve had . . .’
    â€˜Martin wouldn’t lend you the money?’
    â€˜He didn’t even say he was sorry,’ Craig told her. ‘He just said no. And how long have he and I been friends?’
    â€˜What did he think of your business plan?’
    â€˜He said it was great. Well thought-out, carefully costed. A year ago, he would have given me as much as I wanted, if not more.’
    â€˜So what happens next?’ Ruth asked him.
    â€˜Well, I think I have three options. I could either hang myself, shoot myself, or lie down on the railroad tracks and wait for the next Norfolk Southern freight train to come along.’
    â€˜Things can’t be that bad.’
    â€˜Why do you think I haven’t gone back to the studio? Miller Homes called me this morning, from Fort Wayne. I was talking to them last month about a new housing development out on Orchard Ridge. Seventy-five houses, seventy-five custom-fitted kitchens.’
    â€˜And?’
    â€˜Canceled. Same as Muncie Properties and Keiller Housing and Davis Nugent. I’ve been cold-calling developers all day. I even called Kanakee Homes in Peoria.’
    â€˜We’ll get through this somehow,’ said Ruth. ‘We’re not the only family that’s suffering.’
    The Simpsons finished and Amelia went upstairs. When Ruth was sure that she was out of earshot, she went over to her school bag and took out her math book. She opened it and held it up so that Craig could see the scorch marks.
    â€˜What’s this?’ asked Craig. ‘Don’t tell me Ammy’s been smoking.’
    Ruth said, ‘No. These aren’t cigarette burns. A cigarette tip has a mean temperature of six hundred degrees Celsius and it would have created much darker and narrower marks. Besides, I may not have a nose as sensitive as Tyson’s but I would have smelled the tobacco tar.’
    â€˜So . . . what caused them?’
    â€˜Ammy’s fingers. That’s what she told me, anyhow. She says that when she was burning up, she had her hand resting on the page, and when she lifted it up the paper was scorched.’
    Craig frowned. ‘That’s not possible.’ Then he said, ‘Is it? I mean, you’re the fire expert.’
    â€˜Jack was talking yesterday about spontaneous human combustion. You know, when people catch alight for no explicable reason.’
    â€˜You don’t think—’
    â€˜No, I don’t. I don’t believe in it. Well, I shouldn’t believe in it. But, you know, Ammy’s so different. Maybe her fingers can give out intense localized heat, just for a second or two. Some people are natural conductors. But her fingertips weren’t blistered. They’re not even red.’
    Craig looked at the marks even more intently. ‘There has to be some explanation. You could take this book into