blocked by two pickup trucks and three men with deer rifles. We drove around the property into the main parking lot. There were men here, too, but they didn’t display their weapons. I was sure they were close at hand, though.
Catherine stopped when one of the men raised a hand. She rolled down the window and said: “Is there a problem?”
“Not here,” the man said. He wore a big, beautiful cowboy hat with a plastic rain cover. There was no white mark on his face. “But we’ve had some disturbances nearby.”
“I’ve heard about that,” Catherine said. “What’s been going on?”
“Don’t know,” Waterproof Cowboy answered. “Outsiders have been causing trouble, and some of our own folks have suffered for it. We’re being careful this year.”
“Good Lord,” Catherine said. “I wish people had the decency to keep their messes in their own yards.”
“Me, too. Most of the outsiders have left Washaway, though. We’re not seeing as many shoppers as we used to.”
“Well, I hope you’re not going to send me away without a poinsettia. And I have some last-minute gifts to buy.”
Waterproof looked us over and nodded. “Be sure to try the sugar cookies. The proceeds help the food bank.” He stepped back and we drove in.
We pulled ahead and parked. There were a lot of open spaces. Once Catherine had slipped the shotgun under her jacket, we climbed out of the van and started down the slope. The snow-making machine was off, and there was a quiet chill in the air. Catherine and Annalise spoke in low voices, pointing out toward the tents. I was about to join the discussion when movement off to the side caught my attention.
Six men marched toward Waterproof Cowboy and his pals. They carried hunting rifles, and one had a banana- clipped assault rifle. They spoke for a few minutes in a way that wasn’t friendly or unfriendly. Waterproof tilted his head as though something puzzled him, but the newcomers stood in neutral positions with very little body language.
Finally, Waterproof shrugged and led his buddies toward the tents. The replacements took up their positions.
I jogged to catch up with Annalise and Catherine.
“This is a waste of time,” Annalise said. “There’s no evidence the predator is here. Just her guesses.” She held out her hand.
Catherine sighed and gave her the van keys. “It wants victims. This is where the town is going to gather. Isn’t it—”
“I’ll go to a hotel until you have something solid.”
“Boss, there
The nearest tent was twenty yards away. A pair of heavyset women were beckoning for another to come out from behind her glasswares stall. Their persistence wore the other woman down. She followed them toward the cinder-block field house.
Annalise didn’t respond, but Catherine said: “I’m guessing that’s where we need to go.”
We walked toward the field house. The stalls we passed were all set up but completely abandoned.
Finally, just a few dozen yards from the entrance to the field house, we came to an occupied stall. A little old gray-haired lady in a parka with a fur-lined hood stood in front of a huge display of gift chocolates and candies. ALL HOMEMADE, the sign said; she’d obviously spent a lot of time getting ready for this day.
She smiled pleasantly at us as we approached. “Excuse me—” Catherine said, but the woman interrupted.
“You should get out of here right now.” She didn’t let her smile falter, but the look in her eyes was fierce. “Right now. You’re in terrible danger here. Go quickly.”
“We’re here to help,” I said.
The woman glanced to the side, and her smile turned bitter. “Behind the table,” she said. “Get in and get down. Quickly!”
Catherine rushed around the edge of the table and crouched behind the white tarp that covered it. I followed, herding Annalise in front of me. We hid.
“Why are we hiding?” Annalise asked. She sounded annoyed. “We should find the most heavily defended spot and attack.”
I wanted to kill the sapphire dog with as little collateral damage as possible, but Annalise had other priorities. “The sapphire dog is fast,” I said. “We have to sneak up on it, or it’ll get away again.”
The woman in the parka kicked me and said, “Hello, Rich. Back again so soon?”
“Come with me, Livia,” a man’s voice said.
“I’m not here to go to your town meeting, Rich. Whatever you have there, I’m not interested. I’m here to sell, not buy.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I heard his footsteps squish in the mud as he came around the stall. Then I saw his legs. He was wearing puffy snowsuit pants—the kind you’d see on a toddler. They were bright red with little candy canes on them.
I surged upward at him, but Catherine was faster. She slammed into his legs, knocking him to the mud. He fell facedown and was still. Weird. I grabbed the shoulder of his candy-cane jacket and rolled him over.
It was the bartender from the night before. He’d been holding a syringe and had fallen on it. The needle stuck out of his shoulder. I had no idea what was in it, but he was out cold.
