There was a soft breeze rustling the tree tops and the leaves sounded crisper than the eye would have one believe. Matthew sat on the porch with his laptop on his lap (appropriately enough, he’d thought with a grin) and tapped away at the keyboard. He was keeping a journal, as he was inclined to do for any study, but so far it didn’t have any entries that went beyond the light patterns of the O’Connells’ residence. They had no blueprint of the house, although Gavin had requested one, but a person didn’t need to be a superspy to figure out which rooms were for what. The time schedule of lights going on, staying on, and being turned off made it pretty clear. Other than the lights, though, there’d be nothing else—nobody walking out to pick up mail (from what Matthew had seen, anyway, even tho
