Page 82 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year

“Who?” Rupert asked because Rupert was both very dumb and very selfish, but at that moment Ethan was in the mood to break something, so that was damned convenient.

He lunged and Rupert jerked back, banging against the door. “Where is she?”

“Ethan?” Kitty came into view. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you seen Maggie?”

“No,” Kitty said. “Why?”

“Nothing.” He forced a smile. “I’ll find her.”

“Do you need us to help you—”

But before Kitty could get the words out, Ethan was already gone.

“Maggie!” He was going to wake up the whole house, and he didn’t even care. “Maggie!”

“Can I help you, sir?” James asked as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Have you seen Maggie?”

“No, sir. Perhaps—”

Ethan wheeled and headed toward the library. It wasn’t that late. Maybe she wanted a book to read. A fireplace poker to bang him over the head with. Something. He didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that he find her. Because the little voice in the back of Ethan’s mind kept whispering that she hadn’t stayed in the room. She hadn’t confronted him, fought withhim. And his Maggie was a fighter.

But the worst part—the part he didn’t even want to think about—was that she’d walked off and left the nanny cam just sitting there. Which Maggie wouldn’t have done in a million years. Not willingly.

So Ethan threw open the library doors and shouted, “Where’s Maggie?”

“How should we know?” The duke didn’t even look up from the cards in his hand as he sat at a table with his wife and Cece and Freddy.

“What’s wrong?” Cece asked.

Ethan took in the room: four people at the card table. James entering behind him and Dr. Charles dozing by the fire. Absolutely no one was concerned, because they didn’t know—didn’t care—that his life was falling apart.

“I can’t find Maggie.” He couldn’t find Maggie, and she was out there. Somewhere.

“What’s the meaning of all this shouting?” Dobson pushed into the library. He was already in his bathrobe with a towel around his shoulders, looking like a man who had never stayed up past ten thirty in his life.

“Where’s Maggie?” Ethan demanded.

“Upstairs,” Dobson told him. “In her room, I’d presume. Which is exactly where you all should—”

And then Ethan couldn’t take it anymore. He stomped up to Dobson, forcing the older man back a step, reminding him without words that he was taller, stronger, and meaner than anyone had a right to be. That dangerous people had spent a lot of time and money turning Ethan into a dangerous man. Starting with his own father. Oh, how his dad had hated it when his middle son had chosen the only gun-toting profession that was entirely about playing defense, but whatever little voice had led Ethan to make that decision a decade ago was silent then, drowned out by warning bells and the pounding of Ethan’s own heart.

“Listen to me, Inspector.” Ethan’s voice was dark and low. “I don’t know where Maggie is at the moment, butI’m going to find her. And you’re either going to help me or get out of my way because I’m getting ready to start breaking things. Lamps. Dishes.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Heads.”

To Dobson’s credit, he didn’t even flinch. “I could arrest you for that, you know?”

“Oh.” Ethan didn’t even try not to smirk. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

Police Transcript

Excerpt from the Official Police Interrogation of Margaret Chase and Ethan Wyatt

December 25

Inspector Patel:So you threatened a police inspector?