Bradley crept forward between the tall narrow aisles created by the shelves. Just before he reached the corner he heard a thump, the sound of a body hitting the floor. He rushed forward into the corner of the room. The desk was empty. The chair was pushed up against it, neatly awaiting its usual occupant. No one was in the corner. No one was there to make the sound. No one...alive. A cold chill ran down his back. He really wanted to leave the room. Instead, he moved closer. He walked to the window and looked outside. Snow fell softly on the rooftops in the city of Freeport. It was Christmas Eve, a night of peace and miracles. "Go home." He jumped around. The voice was just behind him. Even before he turned, he knew no one would be there. He rubbed the back of his neck, still cold from the breath that carried those words. The curse had killed another Law Enforcement Officer in Stephenson County, this time it struck on Christmas Eve. Nearly a dozen good men had died in the past four years and they all had the same unexplained symptoms. And Mary knew Bradley was next.