The pause was distinct. “No, these are both male.” The answer sounded reluctant and not very friendly.
A metallic sound. Jeff had opened the box on the side of the house, Conall guessed. Shit. Was there any way he could plant a listening device right under Cufley’s nose? Were these survivalists sophisticated enough to check for a bug after the supposed meter reader had left? Conall’s gut was saying, Don’t do it. Bail. Unless Henderson had a chance on the way to the truck to drop it somewhere else. Too bad there were no foundation plantings.
Conall waited, tense. A moment later, the conversation resumed. Jeff reappeared, Cufley breathing down his neck. There wasn’t a damn thing Henderson could do but say, “Have a good day,” and leap into the truck. He backed out, turned around and drove away, the dogs racing behind until the boundary of the property.
Conall and Niall were already melting away. The last thing they needed now was for one of the dogs to catch their scent.
Jeff had already turned down Lia’s driveway, as would be expected. Conall broke into a trot. Jeff was waiting for them when they ducked between the fence rails. He shook his head.
“Not a prayer.”
“Shit.”
“You think I should have—”
“No. He was suspicious. You did the right thing.”
The real meter reader, wide-eyed at the excitement, reclaimed her truck and departed. The men stayed where they were, by Duncan’s now not-so-shiny SUV.
“You think he’s afraid they’re being watched?” Niall suggested.
“In a general way, yeah,” Conall said. “Specifically, no. Our neighbor’s whole worldview is paranoid. He hates and fears anyone even slightly different from him. Government protects minorities, which means it’s out to get him. Public utility districts are government entities, right?”
“So why didn’t we send in a pizza delivery instead?” Duncan asked behind him.
“Because it turns out our guys always pick up their pizza. Seems they don’t want anyone knocking on their door. What’s more, they buy randomly from different pizza places, or frozen from the grocery store.”
Duncan snorted. “Because variety is the spice of life?”
Conall cracked a smile despite his frustration. “I seriously doubt it. It’s probably more paranoia in action. Maybe Cufley thinks too much of the same brand will eat up his stomach lining.”
The other men chuckled. Conall sighed and held out a hand to Duncan. “Thanks for backing us up.”
“No problem.” They shook and then he clapped Conall on the shoulder.
Niall did the same, and Sean nodded. They drove away, leaving Niall and Jeff to walk into the house where the boys and Lia lay in wait.
“Did it work?” Brendan asked eagerly.
Jeff looked startled at how well-informed the kids were. Conall was momentarily disconcerted by how utterly he’d violated standard operating procedure where they were concerned. But he still couldn’t see the harm, and said, “No. One of the guys stuck to Jeff like stink on— Er, like glue.”
They both cackled, knowing what he’d almost said. Lia rolled her eyes upward. Boys, her expression said. Men, she might as well have said. Conall knew plenty of adult males who still found bodily odors and human excrement to be the foundation of all humor.
“Now what?” Lia asked worriedly.
“Don’t know.”
“Tomorrow is garbage day,” she reminded him.
The boys both stared at him. “You go through their garbage?”
“Fascinating stuff, garbage,” he told them, steering both of them toward the kitchen with a hand on each of their shoulders. “You know archaeologists are especially fond of garbage, too. Nothing they like better than discovering an ancient dump.”
Walker didn’t look as if he knew what an archaeologist was, but Brendan’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, but that’s really old garbage. It doesn’t smell.”
“A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.”
Henderson had an air of bewilderment as he excused himself to go upstairs. Conall had come to the conclusion that the other DEA agent lacked any sense of humor. He was an awfully earnest guy. It didn’t bode well for his tolerance of his own kids’ screw-ups and foibles, but maybe they were earnest, too. Stood to reason.