The Last Noel by Heather Graham

hate to waste gas doing the dishes,” Skyler said. “We’ll probably need it to cook with tomorrow.”
    â€œTime to head out to the living room. Everyone. All together,” Quintin said, still holding the gun.
    Brenda made a little noise, not so much a sob as an involuntary sigh.
    â€œDon’t cry,” Quintin said. “I bet you can be plenty tough when you need to.”
    Frazier, pulling Brenda close, stared at him.
    Quintin grinned. He had the power. He knew it, and he liked it. So far, he was just playing with them, but if he went after Frazier’s girl…what would his son do? What would he do?
    Together, they went out to the living room. Frazier, silent, his eyes on the invaders, sat at one end of the sofa, holding Brenda against him. Her eyes were wide, luminous with unshed tears. Jamie perched on a chair nearby, staying close to his brother. Skyler took the piano bench. Craig sat at the other end of the sofa, keeping his distance from his cohorts, who chose the armchairs near the fireplace. The better to keep an eye on the captives, David thought, or because Craig wasn’t really one of them? He remembered Quintin’s accusation that Craig was a cop, and he wondered.
    â€œThere are no ornaments on this tree,” Scooter complained.
    â€œWe hadn’t gotten to it yet,” David said.
    â€œYou have ornaments, though. Right?” Scooter wanted to know.
    â€œOf course we have ornaments,” David said wearily.
    â€œWhere are they?” Scooter asked.
    â€œIn the attic. We hadn’t brought them down yet,” David explained.
    Scooter looked at Quintin. “We need ornaments.”
    Quintin glowered with aggravation. “All right. Scooter, you take Dad up there and he can get the ornaments.”
    â€œThey’re heavy boxes,” David said. “And there are a lot of them. I’ll need help.”
    â€œYou—go with your father,” Quintin said, pointing at Jamie.
    â€œSure,” Jamie said, but he hesitated.
    â€œWhat now?” Quintin demanded.
    â€œFrazier and Dad always bring down the boxes. My si—my mother and I pick out which ornaments go on the tree first. It’s tradition,” Jamie said stubbornly.
    â€œYou people and your friggin’ traditions! Fine. You—” Quintin said, pointing at Frazier. “Go with your father.”
    Brenda clung harder to Frazier, wide-eyed and terrified.
    â€œBrenda,” Skyler coaxingly said, walking over to her. “Come over to the piano with me. We’ll find some sheet music, okay?”
    Brenda nodded, tried to smile and got up to join Skyler.
    â€œI think the ornaments can wait for just a minute,” Quintin said suddenly. “I want to hear something on the piano.”
    They all went still. David was suddenly aware of the ferocity of the wind outside the safety of the house.
    Where was his daughter? Had she gone for help? Was she lying dead in the snow somewhere?
    No. Kat was smart. She would know that she couldn’t make it for help in this weather. Know that she would have to stay hidden, that eventually she would have to listen as they shot down her family.
    Don’t think that way, he told himself. Believe.
    Believe in what? God? Miracles? One of his mother’s sayings suddenly came back to him. God helps those who help themselves. And he would help himself and his family, by God. When the time was right.
    Whenever the hell that was.
    â€œSomeone play the friggin’ piano,” Quintin snapped.
    Skyler sat down, taking Brenda’s hand and inviting the girl to sit next to her on the bench. She trailed her fingers over the keys, and David knew she was thinking about what to play.
    She started singing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” and David thought again that this was beyond bizarre, his family and the men who would probably kill them sitting around the piano on Christmas Eve.
    To David’s amazement, Jamie