Page 38 of Touch in the Night

He tried searching for Magnusson’s name next. Zero results. He sat back in the chair with a heavy frown. Then he looked past the computer to the filing cabinets. He chewed on his lip for a moment then made for the one labeled H – M.

He made short work of the lock and yanked it open. Inside were a number of paper files, the fattest of which was labeled M-E76-890-DH.

He lifted the heavy file from the drawer then cast about until he spotted a desktop scanner. He hacked into the machine it was attached to and began feeding papers through its tray. The machine whirred, and the size of the digital file grew as the page count ticked up.

Jesse watched the papers feeding while fighting the urge to bring them into the beam of his torchlight. His hand hovered over the summary page at the top.

He’d never know…

Magnusson’s cobalt eyes rose in his mind. He swallowed, shivered and dropped his hand.

“Come on. Come on,” he urged, checking his watch. Finally, the last page was scanned. He saved the files to the thumb drive, ran a quick wipe program to remove all superficial traces of his activity, then returned the paper file to the cabinet. He returned to the window just as his scrambler app began to pulse a warning.

He clambered through the window, swearing when he caught his shin on the sill. He slammed the window shut and deactivated the scrambler seconds before the system’s internal disruption alarm was triggered.

* * * *

Jesse spent over an hour staring at the shadows on his bedroom ceiling before he admitted that there was no way he was going to sleep that night. He thrust the covers back with a growl and paced the room, running his hands through his hair and trying to banish his brother’s disapproving voice from his ears—his dad’s disappointed one, his nephew’s hopeful one.

He shoved his chair against the desk so it clattered—and swore, loudly. There was a knock at the door. He looked at the time, cursed again, pulled on some underwear and went to the door.

Tom stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of striped pajama bottoms and a concerned look. Jesse lifted his gaze from the sculpted, hair-dusted pectorals with an effort and attempted a smile.

“Sorry. I woke you?”

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah.” Jesse rubbed his face. “I just can’t sleep.”

Tom’s eyes searched his for a moment. “I find swimming can help, you know, if you’re struggling to relax.”

Jesse spent a charged moment trying to analyze his tone. “I thought we were only allowed to use the pool during the day?”

“He’s away.”

“He is?”

Tom nodded. “London…until Monday.”

Jesse rubbed his sore neck. “You know, that’s really not a bad idea.”

“I could come, too…if you want.”

Jesse held Tom’s sleepy and slightly hungry gaze. A tickle stirred in his abdomen, but he made himself give Tom a regretful smile. “I don’t think I’d be great company tonight, mate.”

“No problem,” Tom said, after the slightest hesitation. “You need alone time. I get it. But we’re still on for next weekend?”

“Yeah,” Jesse forced out. “Course.”

“Okay then. Enjoy.”

Tom padded away, throwing a smile over his shoulder as he disappeared into his room. Jesse remained where he was for several moments more, trying to decide what he was feeling.

He sighed, changed into swim shorts and an old Iron Maiden T-shirt, grabbed a towel from the bathroom and padded down the corridor toward the staff stairs.

It was eerie moving through Oswald House in the dark. Nighttime was usually when it was at its most brightly lit. Jesse felt like an intruder.

He snuck through the library and study with the skin of his back prickling. But all his anxiety fell away when he activated the underwater lights in the pool room. They filled the space with a soft, blue glow that was so inviting he thought nothing more of stripping off his T-shirt and diving right in.

---