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Prologue

THE CHRISTMAS SONG

One

TINY LIGHTS WINKED on the Douglas fir standing tall and full in front of the picture ags of Christreenery and dozens of cards decked the well-appointed living roo the air as they burned

A digitized Bing Crosby crooned “The Christ”

“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire Jack Frost nipping at your nose”

Henry Jablonsky couldn’t see the boys clearly The one called Hawk had snatched off his glasses and put the, Jablonsky had reasoned at the time

It meant that the boys didn’t want to be identified, that they were planning to let theo Please, God, please let us live and I’ll serve you all the days of my life

Jablonsky watched the two shapes un was in Haaistband He heard wrapping paper tear, saw the one called Pidge dangling a bow for the new kitten

They’d said they weren’t going to hurt them

They said this was only a robbery

Jablonsky had h to describe to a police sketch artist, which he would be doing as soon as they got the hell out of his home

Both boys looked as though they’d stepped froes of a Ralph Lauren ad

Hawk Clean-cut Well-spoken Blond, with side-parted hair Pidge, bigger Probably six two Long brown hair Strong as a horse Meaty hands Ivy League types Both of them

Maybe there really was sooodness in them

As Jablonsky watched, the blond one, Haalked over to the bookshelf, dragged his long fingers across the spines of the books, calling out titles, his voice warh he were a friend of the family

He said to Henry Jablonsky, “Wow, Mr J, you’ve got Fahrenheit 451 This is a classic”