Read Online Fatal Feng Shui by Leslie Caine - Free Book Online Page B

there, for all the bad energy bombarding us.”
    “Honey?” Michael said. “Much as I hate to say it, maybe it’s time we consider taking Pate up on his offer.”
    “Sell him our home? Over my dead body! How can you even suggest such a thing?”
    “If we sell now, our property value will still be high. If we wait and Pate gets the okay from the county to build—”
    “No! If that happens, we’ll get a new foundation built where Ang tells us to relocate. They moved that lighthouse in North Carolina’s Outer Banks that was too near the ocean. Compared to that, moving our house will be a
snap
.”
    “But that’s going to cost us more than this house is worth, Shannon! That’s crazy!” Michael protested.
    The racket above our heads was still increasing. Sullivan said, “Sounds like your raccoons are break-dancing up there.”
    “They do seem to be a little more rambunctious than normal,” Shannon replied.
    To me, it sounded like the raccoons were about to crash through the ceiling. Enough was enough. “I’m going to go take a look.” I left the room and headed for the attic door, which had been built into the tongue-and-groove wood ceiling in their family room.
    I glared at the badly designed two-foot-by-three-foot door in the ceiling. The wood door had been hinged incorrectly—so that it had to be pushed open into the attic instead of simply pulled down. The flap was easy enough to open when climbing up; not so easy to close when coming back down. Well, if I had to be the one to confront a dozen break-dancing raccoons, two-timing
Michael
could handle the challenge afterward of shoving the pull-down ladder back into place, all the while keeping the door flap only partially closed.
    I centered a wood splat-back chair underneath the opening, climbed onto the chair, and threw the door wide open with so much force that it bounced a little on its rubber bumpers. I reached up and grabbed the ladder and tugged it into place. The wood rung felt strangely hot. There was a strange flickering light above me. Now that the door was open, I smelled something that made my heart race. “My God,” I cried. “I think your attic is on fire!”
    “That’s insane,” Shannon retorted.
    “Insane or not…” I took a couple of steps up the ladder. I ducked as a small section of a joist on the roof cracked off, shooting down a cascade of hot embers. The noise had been crackling wood. Thick smoke stung my eyes. “Oh, God! The whole attic’s in flames!”
    I had to get the door shut or the fire would spread downstairs along the ceiling! The far edge of the door was dangerously close to the fire—too close for me to climb up there and swing it toward the opening. I tried to grip the edges on either side of the hinge and shut it, but it was much too heavy to lift. I had to climb farther up the ladder.
    Standing as high on the ladder as I dared, I yanked on the door. It wouldn’t budge.
    “Erin!” a voice cried. Probably Sullivan, but I was too frantic to care. “Get down from there!”
    I wasted precious oxygen to shout: “Just a second!” I had to find a way to shut this damned door! The added oxygen flow would only help fuel the flames.
    Roiling mountains of thick black smoke clogged my vision and my throat.
    “I’m calling nine-one-one!” someone cried—Michael, I realized.
    I ducked, took a deep gulp of air, and tried once more to pry the door flap back toward the stairs. Again, it wouldn’t budge.
    Without warning, something grabbed me by the waist. I was lifted and pulled off the stairs. I yelled, “Let go of me!” In one swift clean-and-jerk motion, Sullivan lifted me off the stairs and deposited me on the floor. Then he raced up the ladder, pulled the trap door partially shut, lowered himself onto the chair, then heaved the ladder back up as the door dropped into place.
    “Let’s get out of here! Now!” he shouted.
    “Somebody already alerted the police,” Michael announced. “Fire trucks are on the