Chapter 32

Quickly he ticked off the candidates for his secret Santa, looking for the likely culprit. His boss was pushing seventy, too old to still be working but too damn stubborn to turn over the helm to someone else. He was married with three grown children, all of whom had kids of their own. With a neatly trimmed beard that had turned pure white in the five years Micah had worked for him, Mr. Patterson might look like Santa himself, but he wasn’t the type to give out gifts like this. He was too old school—he’d drawn Shelley’s name the year before and presented her with a delicately crafted silk scarf monogrammed with her initials. Something she’d never wear in a thousand years, true, but a far cry from a cheap box of rubbers.