All Through the Night: A Troubleshooter Christmas by Suzanne Brockmann Page A

tired-looking overcoat and tucked a scarf in around his neck, preparing to brave the elements. “Leaving so soon?”
    â€œYeah,” Will said. “I gotta go.” But he paused, stepping closer to Jules and lowering his voice. “I thought he wasn’t drinking anymore,” he said.
    â€œHe’s not,” Jules said, his outrage making his voice clipped and tight. “And if you write that he is…Let’s just put it this way—no one will find your body.”
    Will looked at him and Jules looked steadily back.
Be afraid. Be very afraid, motherfucker.
    The reporter finally made something that might’ve been a nod. “I’m going to give you a free pass and pretend I didn’t hear that,” Will said. “But as far as this goes…” He gestured to Robin. “I gotta write what I see.”
    â€œHe got locked in the basement,” Jules told him. He raised his voice. “Robin, what window did you climb out of?”
    â€œThe one by the driveway,” Robin pointed around the side of the house. “It was smaller than I thought. I kind of got stuck.” He grinned at Will then looked down at himself. “What a mess. Don’t try this at home, kids.” He came over to them. “I grew up in Southern California. This is my first snow, ever, can you believe it?” He gazed out at the street. “Jesus, it’s beautiful…”
    Ah, damn. “Robin,” Jules said quietly. “Let Will smell your breath.”
    Robin looked at him, surprised, and even a little bit hurt.
    â€œI know you’re clean,” Jules told him. “I know. I trust you. But…he’s a reporter. And he just asked me if you were drinking.”
    â€œWhat?” Robin said. He turned to Will. “You lying
fuck.
” He exhaled, hard, right in Will’s face, but then he said, “That’s not going to be enough. I mean, I could have had vodka, right?”
    â€œIt’s enough,” Will confirmed, clearly unhappy about all of this. “I believe you.”
    â€œNo.” Robin was adamant. “I’ll take a complete drug test and have the results faxed to you.” He looked at Jules. He was really upset. “I want to.”
    â€œOkay,” Jules said quietly.
    â€œSorry,” Will said, turning to look back at the house where Dolphina was standing in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself. “I’m just…doing my job.”
    â€œYour job sucks,” Dolphina said, and Will nodded.
    â€œYeah,” he said, “sometimes it does.” And he walked away.
    â€œPlease tell me he’s not from the
National Voice.
” Robin looked sick, and Jules put his arms around him, to hell with the mud. All of his joy over the still-falling snow had evaporated.
    â€œ
Boston Globe,
” Jules said. “He said…you talked to him?”
    Robin nodded. “Oh, yeah. Oh, Jules, oh my God…”
    â€œIt’s all right,” Jules tried to reassure him.
    But Robin shook his head. “No, it’s not. He’s going to sound-bite me saying that we like doing it in pig masks.”
    Jules laughed. “What?”
    â€œIt’s not funny.”
    â€œIt kind of is.” On a certain level, it was extremely funny. “We should order a case—see how long we can keep this story alive.”
    Robin sat down heavily on the steps. “Aw, Jesus.”
    â€œJust out of curiosity,” Jules said, sitting beside him. “
Pig
masks…?”
    Robin rolled his eyes. “It’s from this movie I saw on pay-per-view back around, I don’t know, ten years ago? I was maybe sixteen and it, like, scarred me for life.” He laughed his disbelief. “This couple was in their underwear, getting ready to get it on, right? They were wearing these masks and grunting like pigs—don’t ask me why. It wasn’t erotic—it was horrific, I think