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It’s Meyers.

I want nothing more than to silence our devices and spend the rest of the night in bed together. But more than that, I want to find Sadistic Santa and send him back to the North Pole.

“Let’s finish this thing,” I say, confirming receipt with Meyers and filling Nathan in on the updates. “Ron’s been a Santa volunteer at various charities for years but then abruptly stopped five years ago. Why just stop? And then why make a comeback here?”

Nathan’s already getting into his Santa suit. “He got busy, then missed volunteering?”

“Maybe.” I have no choice but to put my elf stockings back on. I refuse to wear the elf dress, so I go with the Christmas sweater. It’s oversize enough that it hits my upper thigh. It’ll have to do. We secure our earpieces and head to the elevator bank. A housekeeper is up ahead beside a cleaning cart. I give Nathan a look as he follows me down the hallway.

“No,” he says.

“Your chimney was sabotaged,” I remind him. “You could’ve been badly hurt. I’m done playing games.”

I don’t know why he goes along with it. Possibly because it’s me and he knows I won’t cross the line if it’s not absolutely necessary. Or maybe because time really is running out and we’re no closer to stopping the bomb threat than we were this morning.

Nathan walks ahead and asks the housekeeper for directions to the elevators as I sneak around him. She gives me a warranted funny look because we’re already going the right way, but by that point, I have what I need: the key card that will get us into any room.

Nathan says thanks, and we hurry down the hallway. I text Meyers, The room across from 1708, is it clear?

The elevator doors open, and we get on.

Seconds later, Meyers texts: Guests checked out this morning.

I hit the button for the seventeenth floor.

“Is that a good idea?” Nathan asks.

“If Santa, one of the world’s most beloved men, can break and enter, why can’t I?”

Nathan’s unamused. “It’s globally agreed upon for Santa to do it. Encouraged, in fact.”

“Unfair.” I press the button for the lobby. “Wait for Ron in case he goes back down.”

Nathan sees right through my plan. “You’re not going into that room. Not without a warrant.”

“There’s thirty minutes until the next competition,” I remind him. “Time’s nearly up.”

“Anything you find won’t be admissible in court,” Nathan says.

I run through my options. Wait for a warrant, risk the bomb going off. Don’t wait for a warrant, stop the bomb.

“There’s a reason he’s in there,” I say as Nathan’s eyes go dark. “If I can find something useful, we can still stop this.”

The elevator slows on the seventeenth floor. The doors open.

The hallway is empty.

“Keep your lines open,” Nathan instructs. He knows there’s no use fighting me on this.

I nod, and then I’m on the move. I head straight for the room opposite 1708 and tap the key card against the black box. The bedsheets are still untucked. Turndown hasn’t happened yet, so I’ll need to be ready in case housekeeping comes by while I’m here.

I sweep the room out of habit. On the living room table are ticket stubs for museums and the Rockefeller Center Ice Skating Rink, which reopened a few days after the explosion.

I peer through the peephole to the door across the hall. Who is Robb, and why would Ron be going into his room? Did he want a nicer room to stay in than his free Con-assigned one? Is Robb his accomplice?

“I’m in the lobby,” Nathan says in my earpiece. “Has the target moved?”

Outside the door, I hear a faint click.