Rufus had been careful to wear gloves, not to leave any fingerprints on the belt, or anywhere else. Had she thought about it, the woman might have thought him rather odd keeping his gloves on, but it was December and there was a chill in the air.
He sat on the stairs waiting for his father to return from work, but expecting him to have been drinking heavily and to be late.
What do you do in a house for several hours when to touch anything might record your presence? Particularly without Mac!
This was important though, Rufus could wait.