Page 88 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year
She felt his lips on her cheek—abrush so quick and soft she almost missed it. “Then I’d say there’s no better way to die.”
The tunnel was close and warm in a way that had nothing to do with fires and killers at that point, but the smile slid off Ethan’s face before he kissed her again, pressing and searching and pleading. A kiss like a promise—like a vow—sayingI have you, andI’m with you, and—
“I’m getting you out of here.”
Police Transcript
Excerpt from the Official Police Interrogation of Margaret Chase and Ethan Wyatt
December 25
Inspector Patel:There were several hours yesterday and last night where no one can account for your whereabouts.
Mr. Wyatt:We’re accounting for them now.
Inspector Patel:It was well below freezing. There were blizzard conditions.
Ms. Chase:We are aware.
Inspector Patel:And you expect me to believe that the two of you just wandered down a dark tunnel with no idea where it led or what was waiting at the other end?
Mr. Wyatt:We were working on the assumption it couldn’t be worse than what was waiting for us here.
Inspector Patel:How did you stay warm?
Ms. Chase:Uh...
Mr. Wyatt:Oh, we figured something out.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Ethan
Ethan didn’t know how long they walked or how far they traveled. His training was failing him. His father would have killed him. He knew better than to lose himself in time and space and try to operate with imperfect intel, but Maggie made him crazy.No.Maggie made him brave.
She held his right hand—his bad hand—but it had never felt more steady as they made their way through the shadows of the passage and then finally up a steep slope toward a wooden door.
“Is there a knob?” she asked. “Do we knock? Can we—”
He kicked and the wood splintered as the door sprang open, ricocheting on its hinges.
“Oh look,” she said. “The door’s open.”
It was exactly what he’d said outside Eleanor’s office one day and a million years before, but Ethan didn’t let himself smile at the fact that she’d remembered. He was too busy sweeping into a dark, cold room, trying to keep Maggie behind him while he cleared the space and scanned the walls.
“What is it? What is it? What...” She was like a little girl on Christmas morning as she took in the limestone walls and low ceiling. The rough, wooden floor and narrow bed. “Oh. It’s a cottage!” she exclaimed like she’d always wanted to see one and wasn’t this convenient.
Ethan drew back a curtain and peered into the dark and swirling white. It was snowing again, harder now. And the wind roared and moaned, but Ethan felt almost hopeful because—
“I think I can see the garage from here.Come on. Let’s go see what the duke’s Range Rover can do.”
But Maggie pulled back. “Do you have the keys?”
He’d never been more insulted in his life. “I don’t need keys.”
“We can’t drive,” she told him. “The bridge is out.”
“Damn it. Okay. I’ll drive as far as I can, then walk for help.”
