Page 63 of Hacking the Holidays
Until I looked up.
And Sam’s eyes were on me.
It was only for a second—any longer than a blink and I would have completely missed it. But I didn’t miss it. I caught the exact moment his gaze flickered from Beverly and Cassandra at his throne, to me standing off to the side with the clipboard, to right when I’d been shoving evidence into my bra like some kind of amateur.
My heart almost stopped.
The doubt crept in like frost, cold and inevitable, spreading through my body until I could barely breathe.
Had he actually seen what I had done?
His expression gave nothing away as he turned back to Cassandra with that warm Santa smile for the photo, but that meant nothing. Sam was observant. Careful. He noticed things other people missed—it was probably part of what made him such an effective hacker.
My brilliant plan suddenly felt like a ticking time bomb strapped to my chest. And all I could do was stand here in my ridiculous elf costume, smile plastered on my face, and wait to find out if my life was about to implode.
Chapter Fifteen
SAM
Every hair on the back of my neck stood up.
My instincts—the same ones that made me good at research, at organizing, at analyzing—screamed that something was definitely wrong with this picture. This wasn’t paranoia. This was pattern recognition, and the pattern made a trifecta of red flags.
First, there was Cassandra, the little girl who couldn’t keep her sob story straight as she sat on my lap. She’d stumbled over basic details of her life like a terrible actress who could not remember her lines during a movie shoot.
Next, there was Beverly, whose perfume I recognized the second she stepped onto the stage. There was no doubt she was the one who broke into the library and tried to access my computer. And the way she just tried to work me with her calculated charm and fake tears told me she was a professional. Professional what, though? Private investigator? Reporter? Thief? Federal agent?
Calling the police wasn’t even an option. The last thing I needed was law enforcement poking around my life, turning over rocks better left unturned. For now, Beverly got to walk away clean, but I needed to watch out for her, no doubt.
And finally, we had Rose, the woman who’d magically appeared in my life out of nowhere. Who knew exactly how to deflect, distract, and redirect every time I got too close to an actual answer. And now, apparently, she thought nothing of stealing contact forms and stuffing them down her shirt.
At that very moment, all I wanted was for Beverly to disappear. The woman was like a rash that would not go away—the thousandth iteration of her woes hitting my ears like white noise.
Luckily, my prayers were answered.
She finally extracted herself from my personal space, clutched Cassandra by the hand, and walked toward the exit.
The moment she was gone, Rose approached with that expression I recognized: fear wrapped in determination, served with a side order of guilt. Rose was as complex as they came, but I could not get enough of her.
“That went very well,” I said casually. “No mishaps, which is a first for you. Congratulations.” I forced a chuckle, even though humor was the last thing I felt.
Rose’s laugh came out just as strained. “The day isn’t over yet. Give it a little more time.”
“Right.” I held out my hand, treading carefully through the minefield of whatever was happening. “I’ll take those.”
She handed over the clipboard.
I flipped through the stack of contact forms slowly, making a show of reading some of them, nodding along as if everything was perfectly normal. Then I stopped.
“That’s odd.” I looked up, meeting her eyes. “I don’t see Beverly’s form here.”
“Oh …” Rose’s face was the picture of innocent confusion, and if I hadn’t watched her shove that paper down her top, I might have believed it. “It should be there.”
“Should be,” I agreed. “I watched her fill it out.”
Silence.
Rose’s guilty expression intensified.
