Page 125 of Sharp Force

She scurries off, her Santa feet quiet on the steps. Benton and I are in front of the wine cooler staring at each other.

“Are you going to put the hammer down?” he says.

I return it to the workbench.

“What were you going to do with it?”

“I didn’t know who was down here. You two were so quiet,” I reply.

“She said she needed a big hug. Things with Marino have been strained, and she was feeling unloved,” he explains.

“Of course she started it.” I have no doubt of that.

“It doesn’t matter. I should have known hugging was a bad idea.”

“You two were quiet for a while. It must have been a long hug.”

“She was needy,” Benton confesses. “And my defenses were lowered by too much Pappy Van Winkle on an empty stomach.”

“Under the mistletoe no less.” I look up at a sprig that Dorothy must have bought fresh somewhere. “I believe that’s called premeditation.”

“She bought it and hung it down here. Then asked me to pick out wine with her.” Benton pieces it together.

“That and Santa’s plunging neckline,” I add as a smile tugs.

“All to make Marino jealous.” Benton shakes his head, and he’s smiling too.

“And don’t forget putting me in my place,” I decide.

“Case exceptionally cleared.” Benton starts laughing.

Then both of us are and unable to stop. Taking deep breaths, we wipe our eyes, frazzled and tired. Benton opens the wine cooler door, and we peruse together, arms around each other. We pick out two very nice Château Margaux red burgundies that go with anything. Even tacos.

When we return upstairs to the kitchen, there’s no sign of Marino and my sister. I expect they’ve retreated to their room to work out their differences. I’m not sure how to deal with either one of them, and could use some fresh air. I need a few minutes alone to process what just happened.

“Be back in a few minutes,” I’m saying as Benton finds the corkscrew, the decanter. “I’ll check on Merlin and pick a few things in the greenhouse.”

“How about I come with you?” He slides out a cork with a quiet pop.

“Not necessary. And I need to sort out a few things in my head before I deal with my sister. And Marino.”

“Take your friend, please.” Benton means my gun. “I’ll be watching you on the cameras.” He indicates the video display on the kitchen counter.

Returning to the front of the house, I put on my jacket. Another Christmas carol is playing through the surround sound speakers as I retrieve my Glock from my briefcase on the entryway table.

I tuck the pistol into a pocket, headed out the door to Andy Williams crooning “The Little Drummer Boy.” Turning on my phone’s flashlight, I look around for Merlin, the trees dripping, the earth soggy from rain and melted snow. I call out to Lucy’s cat as I reach the guest cottage.

Unlocking the front door, I call out his name again, turning off the alarm, flipping on the lights. I’m startled when I find him cowering under the kitchen table, looking up at me with frantic eyes.

“Merlin? What is it?” A chill touches the back of my neck.

Pulling out my gun, I rack back the slide, chambering a round as I set about to clear the house, making sure nobody else is here. I don’t see how there could be without the alarm going off and cameras picking up whoever it might be. But I’m taking no chances, Merlin clinging to me every step.

I search Lucy’s living room with its computer arrays, laser printers, cameras and spectrum analyzers connected to various antennas. I look around her small bedroom with its wall of books, several shelves dedicated to Harry Potter and the Boxcar Children.

On the bedside table are what Lucy is reading now. Doug Brunt’sThe Mysterious Case of Rudolf Diesel. Luis Elizondo’sImminent.Liza Mundy’sThe Sisterhood. Peeking behind the shower curtain in the bathroom, I check any place someone could hide.

“There’s nobody here, Merlin.” I reach down to pet him, but he’s anxious, not purring. “We’re safe. What’s going on with you?”