On the not-so-off chance that Reverend Villay has us tailed, we did, indeed, go straight to the police station, and when I saw a pickup truck crawl by the parking lot as we got out and pretended to need to lean on each other for moral support rather than because we were still laughing hysterically over the fact that Santa Man was actually named Nicholas, I knew we’d made a good choice.
Inside, the deputy at the front desk told us that Santiago was waiting and sent us down the hall with a smirk as we continued to break out in bursts of laughter and wipe the tears from our eyes. My belly ached in the best way, and the laughing was a much-needed tension reliever.
But unfortunately, as soon as I saw Santiago’s face, all that tension came rushing right back. He lips were thin, and the look he
