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“How did he respond to that?”

“He told me to watch it. It wasn’t a friendly tone. I began to apologize, explaining it was crowded because of the holiday travelers. That’s when he pulled out an automatic weapon from beneath his jolly red coat, screamed at me to shut up, and fired a few rounds in the air.”

“Did he say anything to indicate a motive before he started shooting?”

“No. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist.”

Frank scribbled some more notes. “Did you know him?”

“I’d never seen him before in my life, and I have an eidetic memory, so I would have remembered.”

Frank looked up, surprised. “Okay. Then what happened?”

“After that, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Someone behind me shouted for everyone to drop to the floor. That was likely my husband. My mom, who was standing near me and slightly behind Santa, followed directions and dropped immediately, covering her head with her hands.”

Frank looked impressed. “Just like that? She’s done that before?”

“It’s kind of a long story, but, yes, she’s done it before. Anyway, unlike my mom, somehow, I couldn’t move. Maybe I was worried he’d shoot my mom, dad, or husband. I can’t remember exactly what was going through my head at that moment. Anyway, I’d locked eyes with Santa, and he seemed focused on me. Then he pulled his gun down from the air where he’d shot the first round, possibly preparing to shoot me. But he took a step backward and promptly tripped over my mom. My husband jumped on him as he fell. I heard the gun go off again. Can you please check if my husband is okay?”

“Is your husband the guy wearing a leather jacket?”

“Yes. Did you see him?”

“I saw him on the camera. Does he work in law enforcement or the military?”

“No. He works for the NSA…in computers.”

Frank’s eyebrow lifted. “Okay, I’ll just go check on his status. Please stay here. I’ll get right back to you.”

As soon as he left, I began pacing the small office. Ten minutes later Frank returned. He opened the door, and Slash stepped inside.

“Thank goodness. You’re okay.” I ran to Slash, throwing my arms around him and hugging him tight.

He squeezed me tightly and then pulled back, cupping my face in his hands and pressing a kiss on each cheek. His expression was tight with concern. “You were worried about me,cara? You faced him down. What wereyouthinking? All those lessons we did in dropping and protecting your head. I told you to drop, but you just stood there.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Slash. It just happened so fast, and I think a part of me wanted him focused on me so he didn’t shoot at my parents or you.”

He let out a sigh. “We’re definitely going to have to address that urge of self-sacrifice. I was able to wrestle the gun away from him seconds before airport security arrived and took him into custody. Your mom is the real hero for tripping him, even if it was accidental.”

“Where are they? My parents? Are they okay?”

“Right here, pumpkin,” my dad said, stepping into the office. Dad had his arm around Mom, and they both looked shaken but unhurt. I ran over, hugging them both at once. They held on to me tight for a moment.

“Oh my God,” I said, pulling away and swiping at my eyes. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” I had a lump in my throat that wouldn’t disappear even when I swallowed. “Mom, you totally saved the day.”

My mom pressed a hand to her chest, looking surprised. “I did?”

“You did. You dropped exactly when Slash told you to. Santa tripped over you and lost his balance. Because of that, he didn’t shoot me, and Slash was able to get control of the gun.” I looked over at Frank, who stood by the door. “Did anyone get hurt?”

“No one got hurt thanks to the quick thinking of all of you.”

I closed my eyes in relief. At least one thing had gone right. “Who is Santa?” I asked. “Is he a domestic terrorist? I’ll be honest, he seemed pretty inept for a terrorist.” Unfortunately, I’d had firsthand experience with a couple of terrorists in my lifetime, and Santa just didn’t fit the profile.

“We’ve got a lot more work to do on that front before we can come to any conclusions,” Frank said. “However, in connection with that, there are more people who need to talk to you.”

“We can’t miss our flight,” I protested. “We’re going to a wedding. We don’t know anything else about Santa. It was a totally random encounter.”

“I understand that, and I’m sorry,” Frank replied. “Regardless, I’m afraid you’re going to miss your flight. That being said, we’ll try to make arrangements to get you on the next available flight out. We’re also working on collecting your baggage.”