“We’ll see about that,” he said. He shut the door, rounded the truck and climbed into the driver’s side. After he fired up the engine, the heat blasted from the vents in seconds. If only my car warmed up so quickly.

As we drove toward the Miller farm, country music sounded softly from the speakers.

“Do you know Doug Miller?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” Trevor said. “I’ve never been out to his property before yesterday, and I can’t place his face anywhere.”

“Me neither,” I mumbled. “It’s weird we can live in such a small town and not know someone.”

“Well, if he moved to the area recently and keeps to himself out here, there’s no reason for us to meet him.”

The snow-covered trees sandwiching the highway flew by as Trevor drove. I glanced over at his speedometer and snickered. “Don’t you ever pull me over for speeding, Deputy.”

He eased off the gas. “Whoops. Guess I’m just excited to get the ball rolling on the investigation.”

A few more miles passed, then he hit the brakes and turned right. “It’s down here.”

We bounced along the snowy, tree-lined road for a mile, then hit a large clearing where a white house almost completely blended in with the snowy landscape.

“That truck wasn’t here yesterday,” Trevor said, pointing at the blue Ford. “I’m going to take that as a good sign he’s around.”

“Where’s the barn?” I asked. “If he has livestock, he must have a barn, right?”

Trevor shrugged. “I’d assume so. Must be behind the house.”

After parking, we wandered up to the front door. I was always shocked at the silence a farm out in the middle of the forest offered. A few birds squalled in the distance, but the cold quiet gave me a bit of the creeps. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Doug Miller answered his door with a chainsaw and bloodthirsty smile.

I stood a bit behind Trevor as he knocked, just in case.

A man in his forties answered, wearing a red baseball cap, jeans, and flannel shirt. “If you’re selling something, I’m not interested,” he said, glancing from me to Trevor.

“No, sir, Mr. Miller,” Trevor replied, pulling his badge from his pocket. “I’m Deputy Trevor Hutchison. We wanted to speak to you about the Christmas Festival and your deer.”

I noted he hadn’t bothered to introduce me, and I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or not. Probably not. It’s not like he could lie and say I was police.

“What about them?”

“Can we come in for a second?” I asked as my jaw began to chatter. “It’s freezing out here.”

“I suppose so,” Doug muttered, stepping aside.

As I followed Trevor inside with Doug bringing up the rear, I took in the décor. Taupe walls were covered with family photos. I stopped for a second to study one that seemed to have been taken recently based on how Doug looked. I assumed the woman next to him was his wife, and I racked my brain to remember if I’d ever done her nails. I didn’t recall the round face, bright eyes and brown bob. The other two male adults in the pictured I guessed were his kids. Except, they were holding hands. Maybe a son and his significant other?

“My wife died last month,” Doug said from behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I found him staring at the same picture. “She had a heart attack while mucking the stalls. We never saw it coming.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied. “She looks so young.”

“Yes. Forty-seven.” He stepped closer to me and pointed at the two young men. “That’s my son and his husband. They’re coming to stay with me for Christmas.”

“Well, that will certainly be nice,” I replied. “My son’s home from college for Christmas break.”

“You miss them when they’re gone, don’t you?” Our gazes met and I noted the sadness in his eyes.

I nodded, then followed Trevor into the living room. “Thanks for taking the time to talk with us,” I said, taking a seat on the couch.

“Sure. You’ve piqued my curiosity, though. What about my deer?”

Trevor joined me on the very worn, but comfortable, light blue couch.

Doug lowered himself into a black lounger.

“Well, it’s my understanding that you put in a bid for your deer to be used in the Christmas Festival. Is that correct?”

Doug nodded and steepled his hands. “It is.”

Trevor continued, “And we’ve been told that when you didn’t win the contract, you became angry. Is that right?”

“It sure is.”

“Can you tell us why?” I asked.

“Because I got shafted.”

Trevor and I stared at him, waiting for the rest of the story, but it never came.

“Can you elaborate?” Trevor asked. “Clara down at City Hall mentioned you were a bit rude about the whole thing.”

“Sure.” Doug sat forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “First, I came in lower than the other guy on price. Second, I actually work with my deer. They’re very comfortable around people. I’ve even trained them to pull a sleigh.”

“So why weren’t you hired?” I asked. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Thank you,” Doug replied. “You’re right. It doesn’t make a lick of sense, and I got pretty upset about it. I figure there’s either bribery or extortion involved.”

Pursing my lips, I furrowed my brow. “You’re kidding, right?”

He shook his head.

“You mean to tell me that someone is doing something illegal during an event to celebrate Christmas?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Doug replied.

I exchanged glances with Trevor. Was this guy unhinged or was Heywood corrupt?

“So, we’ve established that losing the contract made you quite upset,” Trevor said. “Were you upset enough to sabotage the festival?”

Doug sat back against the cushion, a small smile turning his lips. “What’s happened?”

“Rudolph is missing,” I said. “It seems he was taken from Charlie Tupper’s ranch. Someone also attacked Charlie.”