Page 19 of Daddy's Christmas Obsession
I slip out of the utility room, quietly pulling the door shut behind me, and move toward the kitchen, as if I'd just come downstairs for a drink. I'm at the refrigerator when the lights come on.
"Trouble sleeping?"
Victor stands in the doorway, dressed in pajama pants and a t-shirt that clings to his chest. His expression is concerned rather than suspicious.
"Just thirsty," I say, reaching for a glass. "Sorry if I woke you."
"I'm a light sleeper." He moves into the kitchen. "Especially when I have guests."
The way he says "guests" makes me wonder if he knows I've been exploring. If he's been watching me through his surveillance system.
"The storm's getting worse," he comments, moving to the window. "Another foot of snow expected by morning."
"No chance of Aaron making it up here tomorrow, then?"
"Unlikely. But we'll see what updates the morning brings."
I take a sip of water, studying him over the rim of my glass. "Your home security system is impressive. Very... thorough."
His eyes sharpen slightly. "You noticed."
"Hard not to, with cameras in the bedrooms."
He doesn't deny it or look embarrassed. In fact, I suspect this was all put out and labeled for me to discover. There was no intent to hide it. "Living alone in an isolated location comes with security concerns. I should have mentioned it when you arrived."
"Including signal jammers to block cell reception?"
A brief pause. "You've been exploring."
"I'm a scientist. Observation and testing hypotheses is what I do."
"And what hypothesis are you testing, Kyra?"
"That I'm not here by coincidence. That none of this is coincidental."
He studies me for a moment, then nods slightly. "Perceptive. But incomplete."
"Enlighten me, then."
"Not yet." His smile is gentle but unyielding. "Some discoveries need to happen naturally. Go back to bed, Kyra. We'll talk more in the morning."
"I'd rather talk now. About why my windows won't open. Why there's no phone service. Why there are cameras watching me sleep."
"Because I need to ensure your safety."
"From what?"
"From anything that might harm you. Including hasty decisions made in moments of emotional vulnerability."
The calm reasonableness of his tone is more unsettling than anger would be. He truly believes he's justified.
"I'm going back to Boulder in the morning," I say firmly. "Storm or no storm."
"That won't be possible."
"You can't keep me here against my will."
"I'm not." His voice remains gentle. "The weather is. The impassable roads are. The realities of mountain isolation are."
