The girl said nothing, her eyes finally sliding to the boy. “Another one?” she asked, her expression warming.
“Yeah. A fox,” he murmured, his gaze moving nervously between Kandace and the girl.
The girl looked back at Kandace. “Can she be trusted?”
Indignation filled Kandace. Who did this little shit think she was? As quickly as the thought came though, her ire slipped. This girl was the abandoned kid of some teenage runaway. And she didn’t have to wonder what this girl’s “damage” was.
“I think so, Georgia.” the kid muttered.
“I can be trusted,” Kandace asserted, a cloud parting and a ray of sun causing her to squint. “I have to go though. Now.” She pushed past the girl. “Bye, Dr. Dreamboat,” she called. She glanced back once to see that the girl—Georgia, was that what he’d said?—had turned to watch her leave, that same frosty stare stuck firmly to her damaged face. And not for the first time, Kandace wondered how a place that demanded sinlessness could mistreat and discard children . . . in any way.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Gravel flew as Camden’s truck skidded to a halt. He yanked the keys from the ignition, jumping from the vehicle and jogging toward the door where he’d installed a new lock a few days before.
Raising his fist, he pounded harshly on the door and a second later, Scarlett pulled it open, her eyes wide, skin pallid. “You okay?” He looked off behind her, searching for something specific he might battle that would result in banishing that look of fear from her face.
“Come in,” she said, stepping aside so he could enter. “Thank you for coming.” She closed the door and wrapped her arms around herself, glancing up at the staircase and then back at him. “I feel kind of silly now. And you’re obviously off duty.” Her gaze flickered down his body, noting, he figured, his lack of uniform. “I thought I heard something . . . well, in the . . . in the walls. I . . .” She shook her head as though embarrassed. “I think maybe I spooked myself. It could have been mice. It probably was, right? I mean, it had to be.”
“What do you mean, in the walls?” he demanded, a sinking feeling in his gut. Damn them to hell.
For a moment she appeared torn, but then she pointed at the wall that curved upward with the staircase. “I heard something there, on the other side of that wall. It was almost like something was . . . climbing. The sound disappeared up there”—she pointed at the ceiling over the staircase—“and then I heard, like, a door closing.”
Camden swore under his breath. They’d promised. “Where’s your daughter?”
Scarlett’s brow dipped. “She’s sleeping. I checked on her after I called you. The door to our room is locked.”
“Okay. I’m going to check things out. Why don’t you head back to your room and stay there? I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“You think there’s reason to be concerned.” She said it as a statement, not a question, so he didn’t answer her. Instead he repeated, “I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“O-okay,” she said, pausing for a moment and pressing her lips together as though she was holding back from saying more. Apparently having decided not to question him further, Scarlett nodded, turning and walking to the stairs. He watched her disappear up the curved staircase and then he turned to begin his search of the rooms and halls he knew well.
An hour later, Scarlett found him, nailing the final board into place. “I told you I’d call you when I was done,” he muttered, dropping his hammer back into the toolbox he’d retrieved from his truck after he’d conducted a search of the house and felt confident no one was hiding in some dark corner.
Scarlett crossed her arms over her chest, squinting at the boards he’d just nailed to the wall. “What’s that about?”
Camden faced her fully. “There are crawl spaces in the walls of the house. They can be accessed by hidden doors in the walls.”
Her eyes grew wide. She stared at the boarded-up spot for a moment, her gaze finally drifting to him. “You think someone was in the crawl space in my house? Who?”
“Kids.” And God, he hoped he wasn’t lying, although he was pretty sure he was. His gut tightened. “Word gets around about things like secret crawl spaces in the local haunted house.” He rubbed at his eye. “I think I found the entry point, a window on the first floor in the back with a broken lock. I boarded it up and checked the rest. They seem sound, although like I told you, you should have all your windows checked by a professional as soon as possible.”
She was still staring at the boards he’d nailed in place, a crease between her eyes. “Why would kids sneak into my house and climb through crawl spaces? That goes a little beyond trying to find a party spot, or a crash pad.”
He shrugged. “Why do kids do anything?” He picked up his toolbox. “Like we talked about before, a dare. For kicks. The thrill of scaring you.”
She blinked at him. “So . . . you’re sure you nailed all the openings shut?”
“Yup.” Camden turned, beginning to make his way downstairs. He heard Scarlett’s footsteps behind him.
“What if you . . . well, what if you locked some kid carrying out a dare in the walls? What if they’re still in there and they can’t get out?”
He turned to face her, a strange thump in his chest at the earnest expression on her face. Dammit she was pretty. It made him feel off balance each time he stared at her for too long, so he looked away. “You hear someone might have broken into your house to terrorize you and you’re concerned for them?”
She raised her gaze as though considering. “Yes. I mean, can you imagine?” She glanced at the wall. “It would be like being buried alive.”
He considered her for a moment. He’d only known her a handful of days, her presence was a damn inconvenience to him to say the least, and yet he found himself intrigued by her, interested in the things that came out of her mouth, the way she viewed the world. And of course, there was the way she made his body feel, both clumsy and electrified just by virtue of the way she looked. He stared at her a moment longer. Yeah, so he was definitely attracted to her.
Didn’t matter. He had one goal in mind, and she wasn’t going to get in the way. But not at the expense of her safety.
She had a little girl, an innocent child.
And she’d known Kandace. He was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around that.
Hey, Dreamboat. He still heard her voice in his head sometimes, that nickname that had both embarrassed him and filled him with pleasure.
Camden turned, heading away again. “Call me if you smell something dead coming from the walls.”
Behind him, Scarlett gasped, rushing to descend the stairs next to him. “You’re not serious.”
They stepped into the foyer together and came to halt, Camden turning toward her, feeling a twinge of humor at the mild outrage on her face. He hadn’t been serious. He’d checked the crawl space—shone his flashlight up and down it on each floor—and knew no one was in it, but he took another moment to enjoy her reaction. He had the feeling that if he told her there was likely some drug-addled teenager locked up in her walls, she’d take a sledgehammer and make it her job to free him or her. Dumb woman. She was going to get herself hurt. She was going to get her child hurt.