3
“So, lay it out for me.”
“Lay it out? What needs laying out of it?”
Betsy pulled out her Benchmade Infidel knife, thumbed the release, and the four-inch, double-edged blade snapped out the front of the handle. She began carving the Special Operations Command shoulder patch into the wooden table with the point—a stylized arrowhead with a knife up the middle.
Horatio eyed her carefully. “I expect that you are a hard woman to buy Christmas presents for. What’s your Christmas wish?”
“I gave up on wishes a long time ago.”
Horatio looked at her aghast.
She held up the blade. The black-coated D2 steel appeared bloody in the dim firelight. “This one did nicely as a gift to myself. Start talking, Elf.” She returned to her carving.
“We permit the reindeer to run wild during the summer seas
