Page 105 of It's a Wonderful Knife
“Max, I’m armed.”
He looked surprised. “You are?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know you brought a weapon.”
“I usually do.”
His gaze flickered. “Well, regardless, I think it’s best if you’re not alone.”
“Realistically, Max, how much help would you really be?”
He looked offended. “I’m better than literally no one.”
“Are you though? If you’re with me, then I’ll have to worry about you.”
He sighed. “Well, I don’t want to stay here worrying about you.”
“I don’t have time to argue,” I rasped, jumping down the steps in one move. “Dakota, go back to the main house.Now.”
“Yes, sir.” Dakota took off at a full run in the direction of the house.
I glanced up at Max. “For the last time, Max, go with Dakota. I can handle this. You’ll only get in my way.”
He scrambled down the steps, his jaw set stubbornly. “Sorry. I’m coming. I’ll try to stay out of your way.”
“You’re like a tick sometimes, Max,” I grumbled. I turned and headed in the direction of the reindeer barn. It was probably a good thing the ground was so soggy; it made creeping along the path quieter than usual.
As we neared the barn, I heard voices. I inched along the tree line, scanning the front of the building. I couldn’t make out the voices enough to know if I recognized them or not. I needed to get closer.
I gave Max a stern look over my shoulder and whispered, “Stay here. I’m going to go check it out.”
“I want to come,” he hissed.
“Please, Max, I’m begging you. Just… stay here for now. I… I can’t do my job if I’m worried about you. Please.”
The stubborn line of his jaw softened. “Fine, but… if I hear anything that makes me think you’re in trouble, I’m coming in.”
Sighing, I nodded. I knew arguing wouldn’t help, and time was ticking. I turned away from him and crept slowly toward the side of the barn. There was a window, but it had holiday paint on it, giving it the illusion of snow. I inched toward the main door, my heart thumping against my ribs. I had no idea what I was about to find.
The voices stopped suddenly, and the sounds of a struggle came to me from inside the building. I pulled my weapon out, and as I moved quickly toward the entrance to the reindeer barn, I heard grunting. I was about to open the door when there was a horrible groan. It was almost like the squeal a pig might make when being slaughtered. The hairs on the back of my neck stiffened, and I prepared to push inside the barn. I didn’t tug out the flashlight I had in my jacket though. I didn’t want to make myself a lighted target, in case someone was waiting for me inside.
As I pushed inside the barn, the first thing I noticed was the smell, no doubt coming from Santiago’s body. Covering my nose, I tried not to gag. I scanned the area for whoever I’d heard talking. Along the back of the building were stalls. There was a flashlight lying in the hay, pointing up at the rafters overhead. My mouth went dry when I noticed the body of someone lying on the ground. I’d heard more than one voice earlier, so I wanted to proceed with caution. I decided I needed light now, so I tugged my flashlight out and flicked it on. It lit the area in a golden glow, but I didn’t see anyone else.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I slowly advanced toward the body on the ground. Every little sound in the barn had my skin itching to leave. Cop or not, few things got to me like entering a building and not knowing who might be waiting to pounce.
When I reached the person who lay on the ground, I gently kicked them with my foot. “Hey. You okay?” I kept glancing around warily, afraid someone was lurking.
The person on the ground didn’t respond. I gritted my teeth and knelt down, still looking over my shoulder every few seconds. I carefully shook the person, but there was no response. They were lying facedown, and when I slowly rolled them over, I found Richard staring up at me with vacant eyes. There was a knife sticking out of his throat, and I clamped my teeth to stop from reacting too much at the garish sight. There was so much blood, I felt nauseous, but I needed to stay focused.
A chill went through me when I recognized the knife as the same one that had stabbed Santiago. The pearl handle gleamed in the beam of my flashlight as I moved to check his wrist for a pulse. I knew he was gone, but I had to make it official. I felt no flutter that might indicate life, and judging by the amount of blood, I wasn’t surprised he was dead.
I stood and swung around when I heard the scrape of a boot near the door. I lifted my weapon and flashlight simultaneously and found Max standing in the doorway. His eyes were fixed on my gun but then dropped to Richard’s body behind me. Max pulled a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and covered his nose.
“Is that Richard?” he asked, his voice muffled.
“Yes.”
