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“Sweats and an oversize hoodie,” I say, memorizing this person’s outfit, though the black-and-white footage doesn’t help with what colors they are.
I review my cheat sheet and etch lines into the corner of the paper, quietly humming to calm myself and think more clearly. We’ve crossed out Louise and Clifford and a handful of other Santa Wannabes, but it’s not enough. Too many potential suspects, too little time.
“So, Sadistic Santa is threatening to bomb a landmark,” I say. “The only way to stop him is to make it through every competition so we can get those gifts. Does that include winning Santa of the Year? Is it going to come down to you and him?”
“Probably,” Nathan guesses. “But we aren’t going to let it get that far. We can’t.”
I nod quickly. “Right. So then for each competition, or mission, you make it through”—I move to the whiteboard—“he’ll give us a clue.” I write down Who, What, When, Where, Why. “What’s the point of doing all this if we’re just going to stop him? Maybe he doesn’t actually want to hurt anyone and really just wanted an admirable opponent? I mean, you saw those Santa Wannabes’ ornament-pushing strategies. Basic, at best.”
Nathan seems to consider this. “If you want to write that down, sure, but—”
I write admirable opponent on the whiteboard.
“I suppose we shouldn’t rule out the fact that Sadistic Santa could be doing this purely for power and control,” Nathan says. “He could be stringing us along for whatever reason, and he might honestly believe he’ll get away with it.”
“But he’s going to reveal who he is,” I say, and there’s me once again being too trusting. Who knows if this guy’s going to do what he says he will. He could change the rules at any moment. “Potentially.”
“He hasn’t asked for money, right?”
“No, and I think he would’ve asked for that by now,” I say, recalling past assignments where that’s been the case.
Nathan nods in agreement. “Revenge?”
On the whiteboard, I write Revenge on Scarlett and/or the Santa Claus Con???
I tap the marker against my hand. “Before we got up here, Bird learned that, instead of a window display, Santa of the Year usually gets a cameo with the Rockettes in the big Santa number at the Christmas Spectacular.”
Bird clasps his hands over his salt-and-pepper hair. “Change-up for the fiftieth anniversary?” he guesses.
“Maybe, but whose idea was it to make the change and why?” I ask. “With how much attention the Con’s getting this year, that nationwide promo would’ve been huge.”
“So Holly wasn’t supposed to be here,” Nathan says. “Goth Santa was right.”
My lips quirk. “Really? Goth Santa? If there’s anyone you should befriend, it’s him. He might know more about why the Christmas show got booted for a window display.”
“I’ll talk to him, but so help me, if he comments on my gloves.”
I tap on the second to last paragraph in the letter. “Booze… that’s such an un-Santa word. He just lost some credibility.”
“Is he talking about a wine store?” Meyers asks. “A bar?”
“A restaurant? Convenience stores?” Bird chimes in.
Nathan watches the Blue group slip and slide on the ice on the hotel TV playing the livestream. “It’s almost eleven. I need to get to the elimination announcement.” He pulls on his hat and adjusts his beard. “Meet you back here after.”
The next competition isn’t until 1:00, which means we have two hours to try to make sense of Santa’s cryptic message, retrieve the present from wherever it is, and deep dive into the remaining Santa Wannabes’ backgrounds. I feel the weight of every passing minute.
In the background, a cheerful tune on the livestream plays with lyrics about it being the hap-happiest season of all.
Yeah. That song definitely got it wrong.
Excerpt from Field Notes Transcript with David Cruz
Time: 11:13 a.m.
Location: Wollman Rink, post-ornament roll elimination announcement
Agent Nathan Lambros: Congrats on making it through.
