Page 46 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year

“We could be awe,” he muttered, but Maggie was having trouble forming coherent thoughts and words and conclusions.

“And even if we’re not awe, we could... Wait. What did you say?”

“Nothing,” he said as Maggie crept toward the frost-covered windows and fading light. That time of year and that far north, the sun set so very early, and the darkness was just one more thing stacked against them.

“What if she’s hurt? What if she’s...”

“Hey. They wouldn’t be shooting at Eleanor if they’d already killed Eleanor.” The room was warmer then. Bya little. “Which reminds me, someone shot at you. It’s okay to save a little of that pity for yourself, Margaret Elizabeth.”

“That’s...” she started to snap but trailed off, realizing... “my name.” And then she couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “Well, I guess you were bound to get lucky eventually.”

She waited for the quip, the tease, the wink that didn’t come. But he was the most serious man in the world when he told her, “You’re Margaret Elizabeth Chase. Born January fifteenth, whichdoesmake you a Capricorn. I don’t know your rising sign, but I could look it up for you if you want. You’ve written twenty-eight novels under four different names—three of which you just started using in the last year. I don’t know why, but I’m gonna find out.”

He looked at her stunned expression but didn’t smile. Didn’t sneer.

“How...” She wanted to tell him it was a lucky guess, but there was something about him in that moment. Serious and... dangerous. He looked dangerous and yet for some reason that just made her feel safer.

“I’ve been paying attention.”

Gulp.

“To the competition?”

He took a step closer. “To you.”

Double gulp.

“Because I’m the competition?”

“Because you’re the best.”

He was so close then. Breath fogging on the cold glass, eyes looking down at her. Had he always been that tall? Had his shoulders always been that broad? Really, how were shoulders like that possible in nature? But the main thought she could pin down was simple: He’d noticed her not because she was Colin’s wife or Emily’s friend. He’d noticed her because he thought she was the best.

But she wasn’t.

“Eleanor’s the best,” she reminded him. Herself. The world. Eleanor was the best and Eleanor was...

Maggie felt the tears come.She had to hold them back.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

She looked around the dim room, trying to understand, but mostly just wanting to look away. “Why are we in here?”

“Because of the Remington rifle that’s missing from that case.” Ethan pointed to the cabinet but never took his eyes off Maggie.

She made a sound that was something between a hiccup and a laugh. “You mean the case with the broken lock?”

“That would be the one.”

There was something about the way he kept his eyes on her, about the warm timbre of his voice or the cold chill of the room that was now mostly shadow that made it all seem real.

“Because someone shot at me.”

He nodded slowly, likenow she gets it. “Because someone shot at you. Which means, right now, Maggie my dear, you and I are the only two people in this house that we can trust.”

By the time the group was reassembled in the library, Maggie’s heart rate was almost back to normal. Because Ethan was right. They wouldn’t be trying to kill Eleanor if Eleanor were already dead. Which meant there was still a chance to stop them.

Whoever they were.