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“The crew handles all the logistics,” Holly says, her eyes shifting behind us.

Scarlett makes an uh-huh sound. “So it would be weird for the judges to be handling things like, say, I don’t know, the maps?”

Holly looks between us. “You two are the suspicious pair, aren’t you? Oh, I know! You’re cops. No, detectives.” She squeezes the bridge of her nose. “No, hold on, you’re FBI.”

I straighten. “Why would you think that?” I ask. Only people who have something to hide suspect that those snooping in their business are law enforcement. Or people who were rejected from Quantico and have long-harbored resentment…

Holly smiles. “I was in the Bureau as a kid, so I know what an agent looks like.”

I suppress the urge to scoff out loud.

Scarlett waves her off. “Loved you in FBI Kid, but we’re not—”

“I can help!” Holly interjects. “I don’t have my badge on me, but I know what to say. Keep your hands where I can see them!” She delivers this line shockingly well.

“Wow,” Scarlett says, glancing at me. “That’s pretty good, but we’re just everyday civilians. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Sure, okay,” Holly says with a dramatic wink. “Here, take my number.” She scribbles her phone number across one of the Con schedules lying in the grass and hands it to Scarlett. “Just in case.” She winks again.

“I might text you,” Scarlett warns. “But probably just for more behind-the-scenes gossip.”

Holly sighs. “That’s fine, too. I would’ve liked to have been useful, though. Man, I miss those days.”

Scarlett tries one last time. “So no map handling? It’s a federal crime to lie to an FBI agent,” she says, her tone turning serious. She waits a beat for Holly’s surprise to show before adding, “But you already know that, don’t you?”

Holly laughs as relief floods her face. “Okay fine,” she says, throwing her hands up. “We didn’t help pack the bags, the crew really does do that, but we did look at the maps. Just for a second. It was so brief I hardly remember it. Today’s been jam-packed. I remember Ron had one and asked Michelle to point out where her store is located. He wanted to swing by and look at the displays. Then he asked me to show him where we filmed the grand gesture in an old Christmas movie I did.”

Michelle’s and Ron’s prints didn’t show up, but Ron was the one handling the map? His prints should’ve been on there.

“Aw, sounds like you’re all getting along nicely,” Scarlett says sweetly.

“No drama so far,” Holly says with a smile. “I’m just glad to be a part of this. My acting career has had its ups and downs. So much of it happened decades ago.” She shrugs. “It’s kind of funny for it to come back to life after all these years because of livestreaming and the nostalgia hype.” She jerks her thumb toward the other judges. “I have post-event reaction interviews to get to. Glad you’re okay, Nate. See you at the finale. Oh, and, Scarlett? Your glitter’s starting to streak.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Scarlett says, shooting a glare my direction. She backs away and drags me with her. “Holly might be worth keeping an eye on, but she’s not at the top of the list. We need to know more about Ron’s background, where he volunteers, what he’s like.” Scarlett sends Meyers a text, looking up at me with new determination. “Hope you’ve caught a second wind, Lambros. We have a new number one suspect to look into.”

Chapter 31

SCARLETT

One year ago, two days after Christmas

Maui

One hour is all we’ve got. Just for the sunrise,” Nathan tells me. “It was the best I could do.”

“I would’ve been excited for even ten minutes,” I answer truthfully.

We sit side by side on the sand at Kanaha Beach Park, a hidden beach right behind the airport. Kite surfers glide along the ocean waves as planes take off and land nearby. It’s a beautiful morning in paradise. One I’ll never take for granted again. I now match Nathan in a gift-shop sweatshirt and pants. I wonder if we look like all the other tourists sneaking in one last beach trip before their flight home.

If only those onlookers knew Nathan just took down a crime empire. Later today, the headlines might talk about it, his name unmentioned. Not that he’d want any of the credit; it’s not why any of us do this. It’s just funny how much goes into these operations—how much of ourselves we have to give—but the news articles won’t talk about the invisible work of the dozens of agents required to achieve something of that scale.

“In the past thirty-five hours,” I say, “you’ve snuck onto a boat, hijacked said boat, and broke me out of a hospital. You must be exhausted.”

He gives me a pointed look. “Add taking a bullet to the shoulder and maybe I would be.”

“I’m just getting started,” I tease before popping the lid off a box of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts we picked up from the gift shop. “What did you say to the nurses to convince them to let us come here? Must’ve been a pretty good lie.” I take a bite of chocolate. After a few hospital-food meals, this is, hands down, the best food I’ve ever eaten.

“I actually told them the truth,” he says. “That we wanted to celebrate a belated Christmas.”