At this hour, Celeste Lynn was not in her office. The little girl was remarkably well-behaved; she didn't cry or scream at the stranger's emotional outburst.
Once Conrad composed himself, an awkward silence filled the room. Father and daughter stared at each other. The little girl got bored with the staring contest and picked up a plush doll, occupying herself on the carpet.
Conrad watched her, mesmerized. He felt utterly useless. He knew how to dismantle a bomb in the dark, how to silence a sentry from a hundred yards, but he had no idea how to entertain a five-year-old child.
He decided to break the silence. Forcing a gentle smile onto his face, he asked, "Sweetheart, tell Papa... what is your name?"
The little girl looked up, her big, watery eyes filled with confusion.
"Doesn't Pap
