Page 58 of Home for Christmas in July

My words hang on the air, heavy and malevolent.

Then Nick growls, “This isn’t just some creep messing with your scavenger hunt. Clearly, this guy is disturbed and possibly dangerous.”

Marley nods. “My thinking about involving the authorities has evolved.” She stops herself, then goes on, “That’s lawyer for I was wrong. You need to call the cops. And I’ll reach out to the District Attorney’s Office.”

“No DA,” I say instantly.

She frowns. “You’re aware Nick’s daughter works for the DA, right?”

“Right, and that’s why we’re not involving the DA. I don’t want Holly anywhere near this guy. We can call the sheriff, for all the good it’ll do. But no DA.”

Something about my tone tips Nick off. “You just figured out who it is, didn’t you?”

I nod, staring at the note. I take a shaky breath, then another. When I trust myself to speak, I say, “I did. His name is Dante Bianchi. And I don’t know how he found me.” I jab my finger down on the paper. “But this isn’t an idle threat. He means it.”

CHAPTER 24

Nick

Dante Bianchi.My blood boils as the name loops through my brain. I clench my hands into fists then relax them—fist, release, fist, release—while Marley guides us through a phone interview with a frazzled sheriff’s deputy. Deputy Wells promises to run Bianchi’s name through the system and makes some noises about having a patrol car drive down Poinsettia Way a few times during the night.

I lean toward the octopus-shaped speaker phone and enunciate. “She’s not going back to her cottage.”

Noelle raises an eyebrow. “I’m not?”

“No. Absolutely not. You’re coming back to the inn.”

“Probably best,” the deputy’s crackly voice agrees from the speaker. “More people around.”

“Too many people around,” Noelle argues. “The place isfully booked, and you have three extra people in your private space already. There’s no room for me at the inn.”

“Well, you’re not sleeping in a manger. And you’re not going back to the cottage. So we’ll figure it out.”

Noelle frowns. Too bad. She’s coming home with me, and that’s that.

Marley taps her silver pen on her notepad and scans her notes. Then she ticks items off on her fingers, “The Snowflake Cafe, the woods behind Snow Lake, Alpine Jewelers, the library, Dancing Ladies, and the alley behind the chapel. Is that everything? All the times this Bianchi person popped up.”

“I think so,” Noelle says.

I snap my fingers. “The ski lodge! Enrique was walking his dog yesterday morning and saw that someone had broken in. It looks like they were sleeping there. Smashed a window to get in. We boarded it up, and Enrique said he’d call county park and recreation to let them know.”

“Noelle wasn’t there, right?” Deputy Wells asks.

“No, but he has to be sleeping somewhere.”

“I’ll add it to the report,” she says doubtfully. “But it could have been teenagers. And if it was your guy, once he sees the window’s been boarded up, he won’t go back.”

“How’s he getting around?” Marley asks. “He can’t be on foot. The strip club and the lodge are miles outside of town in opposite directions.”

“I’ll reach out to the car rental agencies at the airports. He probably flew through JFK and then to Burlington.” Then the deputy groans. “Unless he was smart enough to fly into Montreal, rent a car there, and drive across the border. If he did that, it’s gonna be much harder to track him.”

Noelle gulps. “He’s very smart,” she says in a flat voice.

“In that case, keep your head on a swivel,” Wells advises. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I know something.”

“Thank you, deputy.” Marley ends the call and studies us. “I don’t like this one bit.”

“That makes two of us,” I tell her.

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