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I point to the structure next to the rink. “We’re going in there.”

Blocky letters spell out The Lodge. It’s a bar and food hall. As expected, the place is starting to get busy. Scarlett gets ahead of me to flash her FBI credentials to the bartender. She explains that there’s no need to panic, but we need this place cleared out for the next thirty minutes. This feels more like the Scarlett I’m used to working with. No-nonsense, strategic, confident. I don’t know what happened six months ago, but it’s really gotten to her. That, and Sadistic Santa. With the midnight finale still hours away, there’s enough of the day left for him to mess with her. I can’t let that happen.

The bartender stops wiping a beer glass and nods. “Excuse me, everyone!” he announces over the speakers. “We need everyone out for the next thirty. We’ve got a Code Green, which basically means we have to do some cleanup, and you don’t wanna be here for it.”

Everyone groans but listens. Within two minutes, the place is empty. The bartender gives us a little salute and follows the crowd out.

“Think it’d be illegal to pull that kind of stunt for Sunday brunch?” Scarlett asks.

“Depends on how you play it,” I tease. I step around the bar counter. “Okay, so, ‘booze’ was the obvious word in the riddle. And obviously there are a lot of places to get alcohol.”

“Like here,” she says, gesturing toward where I’m standing.

I begin pulling out liquor bottles two by two. “The word ‘mull’ was also peculiar. Sadistic Santa was using it in the context of us thinking it over, but it’s also the heating, sweetening, and flavoring of a drink with spices.”

“Like wine,” she answers. “Or cider.”

“Exactly, and mulled wine is the most popular beverage at Christmas markets—”

“Which, by the way, are adorable,” Scarlett says, her eyes lit up. “Plus one in the Pro Christmas column.”

“And this place has a signature mulled wine. You start on the bar stools. See if any gifts have been left on the seats.”

When I don’t find anything on my end, I move around the counter and join her.

“Aren’t there several markets happening in the city right now?” she asks.

I nod as I move down the line. “For a moment, I was sure Sadistic Santa meant Union Square’s holiday market.”

We’re about nine chairs away from each other. Still no sign of the present.

“But then I remembered the first invite Santa sent you,” I continue. “‘Reception to follow at the town square,’ it said.”

“Yeah, in gold lettering. I thought that meant tomorrow, post-Con.”

“At first, me too, but technically, that line came after ‘In Central Park,’ which is where we just were for the Ornament Roll. Did you know Bryant Park is often considered to be the city’s town square?”

“I had no idea.” She frowns. “And now he’s linking clues between letters, as any good mastermind does. Well, not good, because this mastermind for sure belongs on the Naughty List, and not the Naughty-ish one, either.”

We reach each other, one last bar stool to go. Together, we drag it out from under the bar, and… nothing.

I was sure our present would be here.

Scarlett crouches down. “There!” Taped underneath the counter is a rectangular box wrapped in snowman-patterned paper. “I knew you were the right person for the job, Lambros!” She groans. “Did he have to make it so cute?”

“Don’t touch it yet. Documentation.” I take photos of the bar, the present, all of it. I even take a video recording. “I’ve learned the hard way what happens when you don’t cover your ass.”

She stands. “Good idea. Think it’s a bomb?”

Could be. We need to get these clues, and there’s no time to get the bomb squad in here, which would take too long as it is.

“Go outside,” I tell her.

She blinks. “What?”

“I don’t want you in here for this.”

“Are you serious? If Sadistic Santa wanted us dead, we’d be dead by now,” she says, holding my gaze for an intense three seconds. When I don’t respond, she concedes and adds, “I have to push back on this, right? Like, no, don’t do it! That’d probably be the correct thing to say?”