The Cats that Stalked a Ghost by Karen Anne Golden Page A

he peered inside, he was horrified to find it empty.
    He raced to the back office to the basement door, and felt the doorknob.  It was extremely hot, so he didn’t open it.  He knew if he did, the flames would rush into the room.  He extracted his cell phone and tapped 911.  Later, he told Chief London that he was on autopilot, and didn’t even remember calling the fire in. 
    Sprinting back to the atrium, he found Elsa struggling down the stairs with two cat carriers.  Inside, the cats were hysterical; Lilac was me-yowling loudly, Iris was shrieking.  Poor Abby was alone in the second cage, so traumatized, she was lying on her side, breathing rapidly.  Jake grabbed the handles of both carriers.  “Elsa, get the door.”
    Elsa bounded to the front door and opened it.  Jake ran outside and nearly jumped off the front porch, taking two steps at a time.  He carried the crates next door to the front porch of the Foursquare, and set them down.  He hurriedly turned the key in the lock and opened the door, then said, “Stay with them until I come back.”
    “Wait!  What about Scout and Abra?”
    “Their carrier was empty ,” he spat, giving her an angry look. 
    Elsa’s jaw dropped, and realized Jake was accusing her of not securing the gate, then yelled, “Jake, you can’t go back in there.”
    Jake didn’t stick around to disagree.  He cut across the yard between the two properties, and ran at breakneck speed to the basement back door. 
    The explosion had broken the classroom windows, and angry flames whipped through the openings.  Jake saw it was futile to try to get inside through the classroom as long as it was burning. 
    Close to the door was a fire extinguisher; he seized it and pulled the pin.  Stevie ran over from Mrs. Harper’s with an extinguisher in his hand.  The two men put out the fire in the classroom, but couldn’t move any further.  The inner door to the basement was blocked by a heavy support beam. 
    “Is there anyone in the house?” Stevie shouted.
    Jake fell to his knees.  “Please, dear God, don’t take Katz away from me.”

Chapter Twelve
    Chief London and his wife, Connie, arrived at the reception early, and were sitting at one of the round tables closest to the armory’s door.  The table was elegantly appointed with a crisp, white table cloth.  The centerpiece was a bottle of pink champagne, sitting on a gleaming silver tray with six crystal flutes.  Next to the champagne was a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling wine for non-drinkers, as well as carafes of sweet tea andlemonade. 
    Mark Dunn and Linda Martin were sitting there as well; they held hands.  The two couples were engaged in “catch-up talk,” especially with Mark, who no longer lived in Erie, but wanted to hear the latest news, AKA gossip.
    Other guests mingled by the front door.  Mum and her date, James O’Ferrell, were talking to Cokey and Margie. 
    Shelly and Tommy ventured to the center of the room, circling the table where the wedding cake sat, in awe of the cake’s three layers of creamy white icing.  Edible silver beads cascaded down the sides.  On the top tier was a ceramic bride-and-groom.  Tommy reached into his tuxedo pocket and drew out a miniature-porcelain Siamese cat.  He wiped it off, and placed it in front of the couple.  Shelly launched into a fit of giggles. 
    Grandpa and Grandma Cokenberger had just arrived, and were seated at a long table with their family.  Jake’s dad was sitting next to Grandpa, but Cora refused to sit down.  She was nervously fidgeting, giving last-minute instructions to the wait staff.  Daryl’s parents sat down across from each other, next to Cora’s seat.
    When the blast occurred, Daryl and Colleen had just stepped inside the door. 
    “Oh, the Saints preserve us.  What was that?” Colleen asked nervously.”
    Daryl answered, “Something just blew up, and it sounded very close.”
    Chief London lunged off his chair, rushing to answer a call