Smiling, Henderson said, “My pleasure.”
“Remember,” Conall cautioned as he escorted the boys downstairs, “the attic is still off-limits. Okay?”
“I wish we could have a sleepover.” Walker looked up at him hopefully. “I’d really like that.”
“Nope.” Conall made sure he sounded firm. “When we’re up there, we have to concentrate. What we’re doing isn’t fun and games. We’re trying to catch some criminals. That’s an important job. Do you understand that?”
They both nodded.
“Cuz you’re the good guys,” Walker said, “and they’re the bad guys.”
Conall tugged his hair affectionately. “You got it.”
“Can I bat first?”
“If it’s okay with your brother.”
Brendan rolled his eyes. “I’d rather pitch anyway.”
“That makes me the catcher.”
“I bet Lia would play outfielder. Do you think she would?”
Lia hated playing outfielder. But Conall laughed. “Never hurts to ask, does it?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
SO FAR JEFF had continued to sleep in the attic, while Conall had taken over the small room with the childish twin bed. He came downstairs sometime between 3:00 and 5:00 a.m., whenever Henderson relieved him. The house would be completely silent, the boys’ and Sorrel’s bedroom doors closed, Lia’s open a few inches, presumably so she could hear a child in distress if need be. Some nights Conall found himself hesitating a few feet from her door, imagining that she was awake and watching for him.
Did she feel any of the frustration that wracked him? The hunger for a kiss, a taste? He wouldn’t say he avoided her daytimes; how could he? But unless it had to do with the kids, he wasn’t seeking her out, either, because he wanted her and he knew damn well he shouldn’t have her.
He wondered what she slept in. She presumably wore a gown or pajamas of some kind, because of the kids. Sexy? Probably not, he had thought wryly, and made himself keep going, first to the bathroom, then the twin bed where his feet would hang off the end.
But at least he had the privacy of his own room. He hoped Lia didn’t accept another foster child until he was gone.
Tonight there had been a modest stirring of activity next door. A car had come and gone, the driver alone. He’d gone into the house and stayed for a good hour. This guy wasn’t one of the two who’d brought the crates or any of the three who seemed to be living in the house. But his face, too, was familiar.
Conall was still thinking about it as he came downstairs and quietly closed the attic door. This familiar was different. He’d met the man from the pickup truck, had seen him move, speak. He knew it, even though he hadn’t been able to nail down when or where. The wondering stuck with him like an itch.
He was confident he’d recognized this new visitor only from a photo. Depending on the operation, he looked at a hell of a lot of images. Face recognition software would find a match, he was willing to bet. His preoccupation took him safely past Lia’s bedroom door.
Nights weren’t hot yet, except in the attic where the air remained stuffy. He’d have liked a shower, but the noise of it running might wake someone. Instead, after brushing his teeth he stripped off his shirt and stuck his head under the faucet, scrubbed his underarms and ran the wet washcloth over his chest and as much of his back as he could reach, then toweled himself dry.
This time his feet came to a stop in the hall, refusing to carry him on to his bedroom. He stared at that dark opening.
Did Lia sleep with her hair braided or loose? Because of the way he and Henderson had broken down their shifts, Conall had yet to see her first thing in the morning. He had the stupid thought that right now he’d be satisfied if he could only get a look at her. Find out whether she slept with abandon or curled into a defensive ball. Wore a long-sleeved, floor-length flannel gown or a T-shirt that ended at mid-thigh. But he knew damn well he was lying to himself. His fantasies would grow more vivid once he could picture her accurately in bed.
He rasped a hand over his jaw, sighed and prodded himself into motion…at the exact moment her door opened silently and she stepped into the hall. He stopped but not quite in time. Lia walked right into him.