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I let him have that hope.

* * *

My mother didn’t wantto go to a tree lot. And it wasn’t just us, either. She’d harassed Elliot into joining us, and we were going to go traipsing around in the snow—because there was snow on the ground, although not a lot of it—and cut down a goddamn tree like we were the fucking Griswolds.

This whole trip was absolutely starting to feel like a nightmare version ofNational Lampoonat this point—murder, mayhem, and a nice family Christmas.

We were all packed in the back of my dad’s maroon Explorer, Taavi in the middle because he had the shortest legs, Elliot looking like he wanted to be literally anywhere else in the universe. I also wanted to be literally anywhere else, although preferably harassing Raj about why he hadn’t gotten back to me or talking more with Detective Smith about how he was going to handle the case.

My dad had stopped at the Shawano Police Department so I could run in and drop off the baggies containing dirt samples and the button, and Smith had been waiting for me by the intake desk.

“Thanks,” he said in his gruff, abrupt way.

“No problem.”

He waved the baggies. “I’ll let you know if anything comes of this,” he said, in a tone that told me he didn’t think anything was going to come of it, although whether that was because he thought I did a shitty job gathering evidence or because he thought somebody else was going to fuck it up wasn’t clear.

“Can you get somebody to swab the window?” I asked him.

He let out another one of those sighs. Apparently he wasn’t having a very good time of it here, either. “I can try,” he replied. “But we’re shorthanded on CSI techs, so no promises.”

I gave him a look that said if they could get fucking DNA, they really, really should be obligated to do it.

“Yeah, I know,” he said in response to my face. “I’m more likely to be able to get somebody out there once I can convince someone to reopen this case, though.”

That was a fair point, but I didn’t like it.

I’d been marginally crankier when I clambered back into the car than when I’d left it, although I did have a little tiny bit of hope that something might come of this. If Raj would fucking get back to me.

I am not a patient elf.

I am an even less patient elf when stuffed into a car with my mother, my father, my best friend, and my boyfriend on a holiday nightmare of a car ride out to a goddamn Christmas tree farm less than a month after my best friend’s dad had been fucking murdered.

At least it wasn’t a long drive.

The same couldnotbe said for the rest of the afternoon.

Seriously. Nobody over the age of like ten wants to do this shit. Elliot looked like he had simply given up on life, Taavi was shivering, and even my stoic father looked like he was not having a great day. I was borderline homicidal, as long as the target was my mother—but I love my Mom, so instead I forced a smile on my face and trudged along behind everyone else as my mother led us through the trees.

Shewas happily chatting away about who the fuck knew what to Taavi, and my father was staring off into the trees as though he were attempting to attain some sort of zen by communing with squirrels or some shit. Elliot was staring emptily at his feet, so I picked up the pace to walk beside him.

“Not how you thought your day was going to go?”

He looked up at me. “Why are we doing this?”

“Because my mother wants to make you feel better.”

He stared at me.

“Is it working?”

He opened his mouth to respond, then seemed to genuinely think about it. “Goddamn it, yes.”

That was definitely not the answer I was expecting. “Seriously?”

He gave me a wry twist of the lips that was like a goddamn ray of sunshine. “Weirdly, yeah.” Then he bumped his shoulder into mine, and I couldn’t help smiling back at him.

It made my fucking day. I still didn’t want to be traipsing through a Christmas tree farm looking for whatever my mother thought was the perfect tree, but if Elliot was going to smile about it, then that was a-fucking-okay with me.