When Blaire woke up early on Christmas morning, the house was still quiet. Not wanting to wake anyone, she tiptoed down the stairs and went to the kitchen. They’d all been up so late. The police had come over with all their equipment and scanned the house, even checking Kate and Simon’s router to see if someone had tagged onto their Wi-Fi. Nothing was detected. Kate was still convinced that hidden cameras lurked somewhere, but the police had assured her that if that were the case, the camera had to be transmitting somewhere, and that was just not happening. Kate was devastated. Blaire didn’t blame her, it would have explained everything. But now it was clear to them that whoever was doing this was someone very close.

Something else was nagging at her. Right after Simon finally got home from his so-called structural emergency the day before, an enormous box had been delivered. The two guards approached it, but Simon rushed over to them. “It’s okay,” he’d said, looking at the return label. “I ordered this. It’s a Christmas present for Annabelle.”

They backed away as Kate moved in closer. “What is this?” she’d asked, the unease in her voice obvious to Blaire.

Simon smiled and patted the top of the box. “It’s that motorized mini Range Rover I’ve been looking at. She’s going to love it.”

“What? Have you lost your mind? How much was it?”

“It was only fifteen thousand. We can afford it.”

“Who can afford it? You? Or me? Did you use your own money, or did you use mine?”

Blaire had watched Simon stiffen and his face go red. “I thought it was all our money.”

“Do you realize we’re hemorrhaging money with all this security? How can you be so cavalier?” She had pointed her finger at him, shaking. “We’ve talked about this before. Large purchases are to be discussed ahead of time. And I won’t have Annabelle turned into a spoiled child.”

“Fine. I’ll return it,” he said, his voice low.

“See that you do!” Kate stormed from the hallway, and Blaire looked at Simon before following her. He’d given Blaire an angry scowl and turned away.

Now Blaire put some coffee on and wondered if yesterday’s argument would carry over into this Christmas morning. She walked to the French doors in the breakfast room, opening the long blinds and peering out. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, with big flakes still falling. It would be a white Christmas.