It wasn't many more days before Christmas. The day before Murdock spent mostly in the kitchen. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to stuff lobsters inside a turkey, but if the turducken people could do it, he imagined giant bugs would fit in there too. An odd commotion of people getting up quickly from the furniture and the TV being shut off in the living room caught his attention. He heard:

"What do you think, boss?"

"B.A., go check the back," Hannibal's gravelly voice ordered. "Face, get upstairs and get a better vantage point. Don't be seen!"

Murdock ambled out of the kitchen as B.A. brushed passed him to the back door. Face was bounding up the stairs.

"What's happening?"

"Contact front," Hannibal growled, indicating through a sheer curtain to the driveway outside.

Murdock resisted the urge to peek out the window; he knew Hannibal wouldn't take kindly to him moving the curtain. He could, however, make out the dark brown truck idling in the driveway.

"It's the UPS man," he said.

"Is it?" Hannibal replied sarcastically.

B.A. returned. "No sign of anything, Colonel. The snow's unbroken and I didn't see any evidence of breath condensation."

Hannibal chewed on his cigar fretfully. "Face. Anything?" he called quietly to the upper floor.

"Nada, bossman. The guy's in his truck, just sitting there. No indication of other vehicles or accomplices."

"Keep looking. B.A., get us equipped. I want weapons hot."

Without question, the big black man hurried up the stairs.

"This place had its mail held, didn't it, Face?"

"Yeah. The folks are gone for the month. The rental agreement stipulated we weren't to get any mail delivery."

Hannibal continued chewing his cigar, but Murdock could tell it was out of anticipation and thrill. He didn't say anything more until B.A. was back. The older man took his shoulder holsters and shrugged them on. Murdock took the offered sidearm and its holster too, slipping it over his belt by habit.

"Face is set up with a rifle too, Colonel," B.A. told him.

"Good." Now that the holsters were comfortable, Hannibal took one handgun and cocked it. B.A. did the same, but Murdock left his where it was.

"Boss—we've got movement!" Face called from up above.

Everyone's attention snapped back to the front of the house. Although it was blurry, they could see the van's driver leave his vehicle and start towards the door. He carried a medium-sized package.

"Face, keep a bead on him. Murdock, B.A.—"

With his left hand, Hannibal designated their positions against the inner wall, out of line from the window and front door. They followed the order without pause. Hannibal took a spot against the outer wall beside the front door, and waited with his weapon ready.

Everything dwindled down to this one, tense moment. They heard the man's boots on the steps, heard the squeak of snow under his feet, and then the creaking of the boards of the stoop as he came to the front door.

Murdock took his eyes from the door and found Hannibal's, who jerked his head upward and made a quick slicing motion across his throat. It meant the shot angle was too acute for Face to compensate for, and his fellow Ranger wouldn't have his sights on their unexpected visitor any longer. Automatically, Murdock flicked the snap open on his weapon's holster, although he still didn't draw it.

A very faint scuffling noise and a grunt drifted through the door. Hannibal stiffened. They heard the unmistakable sound of something hitting the landing, and then the man's footsteps retreated. Through the sheer curtain Murdock could see him get back into his van. He sat there a moment longer, then did a three-point turn out of the driveway and was gone down the road.

B.A. let his breath out in a rush.

"Keep an eye out," Hannibal ordered up to Face as he uncocked his gun and slipped it back in its holster.

"Did he leave the box?" Murdock asked. "Face, did he leave the box?"

"He didn't carry it back to the van," Face answered.

B.A. skirted the window until he was on the other side of it, looking through the small slit between the window and curtain. "The box is in front of the door."

"What's in the box—" Murdock started, but Hannibal overrode his question.

"I don't like it. No one is supposed to be here. The mail's been stopped. Why is there package delivery?"

No one could answer him, and the room's tension, which had dissipated somewhat after the man left, took a slight upswing again.

"We'll keep watch," Hannibal decided. "No one goes outside, no one goes near a window. Understood?"

Everyone, including Face upstairs, agreed.