Page 172 of Our Little Secret

“I already looked.”

Leah sighed. “Sorry, I have no idea. It must be somewhere.” Before he said another word, Leah said, “And why are we not hearing Christmas music?” Quick footsteps sounded, then, “How about this one? It was one of Nana’s favorites.”

A few heartbeats later Brooke heard the strains of “A Holly Jolly Christmas,”a recording her mother and Brooke detested. But at least it provided noise and cover as Brooke affixed a second camera to the family portrait at the top of the stairs.

As she checked her phone to make sure the camera’s eye took in the entire upper hallway and staircase to the entry below, she heard a rustling at the base of the stairs. She froze. Looked down the steps. Expected to have to explain herself. But the two interested eyes blinking up at her belonged to the dog.

Footsteps crossed the dining area and she straightened.

“Geez, Shep. Don’t tell me you have to go out again?” Neal said, appearing at the foot of the stairs. “Oh.” He caught a glimpse of Brooke on the upper floor. “I get it, he was looking for you.”

“He found me,” she said lightly and hurried down to the first floor, where she patted the dog on the head and changed the subject. “I think I was offered a drink earlier?”

“Just needs a finishing touch.” Neal was already on his way to the kitchen and Shep trotted back to his bed.

Eli rounded the corner then, nearly running into her. His eyes narrowed a bit.

“I don’t suppose you know where my wallet is?” he said, his lips blade thin, his gaze accusing.

She felt the slim leather in her pocket but drew her eyebrows together and slowly shook her head as if she were really thinking hard.

Then she smiled, met his gaze, and lied through her teeth. “I have no idea, Eli. No idea whatsoever.”

CHAPTER 37

Obviously Eli didn’t believe her.

He glared at her as she made her way into the kitchen and sat on one of the barstools at the peninsula. Her heart was hammering, but it slowed as she watched Neal concoct the frothy drink, adding whiskey from a bottle that was rapidly emptying, then the eggnog, a little powdered sugar, and a whisper of vanilla. “My own special recipe,” he said with a smile that might have been disarming if she wasn’t so pissed at him. He added a dash of nutmeg across the top and even went so far as to squirt a dollop of whipped cream across the top.

“That’s decadent,” she said.

“I know.” He slid the drink to her. “Marilee’s idea, and it’s Christmas.”

“Dad wouldn’t let me have any booze,” Marilee complained from her chair near the fire as the music died. “And he didn’t have any cherries either.”

“My bad,” he said as Brooke took a taste of the drink and forced a smile. Meanwhile, Eli found his jacket, threw it on, and went outside. A few minutes later she heard the sound of an axe splitting wood.

Leah looked out the window and shook her head. “I guess someone’s taking out his frustrations. He misplaced his wallet and is really pissed about it. So much for the Christmas spirit.”

Brooke steered the conversation back to the drinks. “The whipped cream’s a good idea,” she told her daughter but let her eyes wander to the room, searching for the best place to hide a camera. She settled on the Christmas tree, where it would provide a panoramic view of the great room, the back door, and most of the kitchen. Once everyone went upstairs she could place it on an upper branch. Rather than Elf on a Shelf this Christmas, she decided, they would have Spy in the Sky.

How the Harmon family had evolved.

She took another sip and managed a smile, the wallet heavy in her pocket, the knife pressed hard to her calf.

Leah was fussing with the record player again, slipping an old LP onto the spindle, when she suddenly stopped. “Oh Lord, what’s Shep got?”

“What?” Brooke saw that Shep had returned to his bed and was chewing on a toy. “It’s just his crab,” she said, seeing the toy she’d stuffed back into the closet when she’d found the bracelet Gideon had left wrapped around its claw.

“No,” Leah said, her voice rising. “No, that’s not it.” Her eyes were rounding and she dropped the LP, letting out a small scream as she backed away from the dog and his bed. “Oh God, what kind of sick . . . ?”

“What?” Brooke was across the room in an instant. “Up,” she said to the dog and he scrambled to his feet, dropping the toy on his cushion. Beside the crab, in two pieces, was the figurine of Joseph. His robed body in one spot, his bearded, severed head next to it. Red paint, made to look like blood, was visible on his short neck.

“Is that . . . is that blood?” Leah shrieked as she backed away.

“What the fu—?” Neal had run into the room and Marilee had joined them.

“Not blood,” Marilee said and didn’t seem disturbed at all. “It’s nail polish.” She picked up both pieces, her fingers near the jagged neck and severed head. Her nails were a perfect match to the stain on the tiny face. “Bloodie-Rosie,” she said. “My favorite color.”