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“Plenty,” she says with a grin she doesn’t even try to hide. “Congrats! Your first Santa suit! This is a big deal. How does it feel?”

“Like I have to work on a holiday and not get paid overtime.”

“At least you’ll look good doing it.”

I cross my arms, the faux fur lining each sleeve puffing up against my chest. “You think I look good, huh? Do I look like Sexy Santa?”

“Not Sexy Santa,” Scarlett says decisively, and I uncross my arms. “Maybe Hot Santa.”

I feel a half-smile form. “Oh really—”

“Because you’re sweating,” she says. “Don’t wear yourself out before the Con.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I tear off the beard. “Can we go now?”

She glances at her watch. “We still have forty minutes. We’re just getting started. Tell me your backstory.”

“We’re working out legends together now?”

“Just tell me who you are.”

“I’m Santa Claus,” I say, entertaining her request. “Born over seventeen hundred years ago, I’m from the North Pole, and my job is to deliver toys to all the—”

“Hilarious. Remind me to get your skincare secrets,” she says. “But who are you in this competition?”

“I’m Nate Lambros from Chicago.” Most undercover agents use the shortened versions of their names to keep lies to a minimum. “It’s my first year at the Con—and hopefully the last. By choice.”

“And?”

“And that’s what I’ve got for now. There’s been no time for backstopping,” I say defensively. “This is risky. If anyone looks into me, there’s no social media, no school records, no photos.”

“I’ll take care of your backstory,” she says. “I like to do my own backstopping. It’s faster.”

“The Con starts tomorrow.”

Scarlett grabs the beard from me and combs her fingers through the curls. “I’m resourceful, as is the team I put together. There will be too many people at this thing, so we have an off-site team assisting where we need them but they’ll mostly have eyes on the judges and Con crew. You, me, and our on-site team are focusing on the Santa Wannabes. We need to get friendly with the competition, look for motive, and narrow down our list of suspects.”

In a daylong competition? We’ve all got our work cut out for us.

“What about the hosts?” I ask.

She looks at me with wide eyes. “Yes! Did you also find it questionable that the two hosts’ last names were Summers and Blossom?”

“I meant more that they didn’t seem very concerned about this situation,” I say.

“They get so many threats like this, they’re probably numb to it all,” Scarlett says with a shrug.

I lean into my skepticism. “So then they’d know how to pull it off and what to write.”

“Maybe. We’ll definitely look into them, but all that talk about Santa?” She shakes her head. “They’re in this for real. Their focus is to put on this Con and make everyone a lot of money.” Scarlett paces in front of a boot rack. “We’ll look at fingerprints to find anyone with a record,” she says, running through her plan out loud. “Maybe we’ve worked with someone on a past case before. I believe our Santa is left-handed. We can use that.”

“We should focus on people with explosives experience, which will likely be law enforcement or military,” I say. “Or people who work with fireworks. They’ll have the technical know-how and familiarity with timers.”

“Yes, good. Solid start.” She clasps her hands together and directs both pointer fingers my way. “Now laugh for me.”

I glance around. “What?”

“Let me hear your laugh.”