Return of the Prodigal Son (2 page)

Cam barely paused in his work while muttering, “It’s the lovebirds. Can’t you two keep your hands off each other for even a minute?”

“I detect a note of jealousy, little bro.” Micah gave him a friendly punch in the arm as he opened the refrigerator door and peered inside.

“Are you looking for something to do?” Kieran smiled at his grandson’s bride as she brushed a kiss over his weathered cheek.

“I was hoping Bren and Cam were doing enough for all of us.” Micah helped himself to a slice of cheese from a plate.

“There’s garlic bread to be heated, and a bottle of wine chilling that will need to be opened.”

Micah reached for the wine. “Now this is something I can handle.”

Pru began arranging garlic toast on a cookie sheet before setting it in the oven. Though she’d been in the family mere weeks, she fitted in as comfortably as though she’d been a Lassiter for a lifetime.

“Ah.” Kate Lassiter breezed through the back doorway and immediately kicked off her sensible pumps, holding them in one hand while balancing her briefcase in the other. “Now this is a scene that more than makes up for the day’s frustration.”

“Tough day, Mom?” Bren paused to accept her mother’s quick kiss.

“I’ve had better.” Kate sighed as she breathed in the perfume of her father-in-law’s spaghetti sauce. “But I think I’m about to let it all slip away.”

“Maybe this’ll help.” Micah handed her a stem glass of tart red wine.

She sipped, sighed and smiled as she looked around at her family. Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of someone sprinting up the back steps. A tall, lean man in faded chinos and a crew-neck sweater the color of oatmeal. There was no denying the athletic grace, like a sleek Irish wolfhound, that defined her middle son.

For the space of a heartbeat Kate couldn’t find her voice. Then she set aside her glass and flew across the room and into his arms.

“Donovan. Oh, Donovan. Is it really you?” She gave him a hard, fierce hug, before holding him a little away to study him more closely. Then she promptly burst into tears.

For a moment nobody spoke. Then all the chores were forgotten as his family gathered around for a noisy welcome.

“Oh, I’ve missed you.” Bren was laughing as she wrapped her arms around Donovan’s neck.

“That goes double.” He swung his sister around and around before releasing her.

As he did, Micah slapped him on the back, before grabbing him close. “Why didn’t you tell us you were home?”

“I’m home.”

Micah roared with laughter. “Thanks for nothing.”

“Gee, big brother.” Cameron stood back and stared with a look of mock surprise. “Home at last? Somehow I expected you to look a bit less like an aging hippie and more like James Bond. After all, any respectable spy worth his pay should at least be able to afford a haircut.”

“Careful, sonny boy.” Donovan gingerly touched a hand to the shaggy hair that brushed his collar. “I’ll have you know I just came from the barber. He cut off enough to make a couple of expensive wigs.” With a wicked grin he lifted his youngest brother off his feet in a bone-jarring hug. When he stepped a little away, he gave him a long, slow appraisal. “You’ve done some growing up since I last saw you. When did you get to be as tall as me?”

“I stopped growing about ten years ago, bro. You should have stuck around.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Seeing his mother standing to one side openly weeping, he gathered her against his chest. “Hey now. None of that.”

Kate touched a fingertip to his cheek before wiping the back of her hand over her eyes. “These are happy tears.”

“Okay. I guess that’s allowed.” He turned to Pru with a smile. “I take it you’re the new addition to the family. Sorry we haven’t met before this.”

“I’m Prudence. I prefer Pru.” She blushed prettily. “Micah’s wife.”

He offered a hand. “Nice to meet you, Pru.” He turned to his older brother with an arched brow. “I don’t know what she sees in you, but I’ll give you points for having excellent taste.”

Micah gave him a hard, quick punch in the shoulder and was surprised by the layer of muscle. When Donovan returned the punch, it nearly rocked him back on his heels.

Kieran stood to one side, watching in silence. While the others had rushed forward to offer a welcome, he’d hung back, needing a moment to digest the fact that his grandson was really here. “You’d better drop those fists if you know what’s good for you. If it weren’t for the fact that dinner is ready, I’d send you both out back to shoot hoops.”

“You don’t mean to say you still get away with that?” Donovan gave a snort of laughter.

“I do, boyo. And if you’re not a little more respectful, you’ll find out for yourself.” Kieran turned toward the stove and began draining a heaping pot of pasta. “Now why don’t we all head into the dining room. It looks like our little celebration just grew into something much bigger.”

As they gathered around the dining room table, Donovan noted how the others settled into the places that had been theirs since childhood. Kieran at one end; Kate at the other. Bren and Cameron, the youngest, facing Micah on the other. The only change was the addition of Pru, seated beside her husband.

As Donovan drew up a chair beside Micah everyone joined hands while Kieran intoned the familiar blessing.

“Bless this food and this family. Not only those of us gathered here, but those who can be here only in spirit. Bless especially our Donovan, who has been missing for so long and has finally been returned to us. And as always, bless Riordan, who watches over us all.”

Donovan saw his mother wipe fresh tears before picking up her napkin. Then he was forced to field a hundred questions as he disposed of a mountain of spaghetti drenched in his grandfather’s famous sauce.

At last he sat back, sipping his wine. “You’ll never know how many times I’ve dreamed about this, Pop. Nobody makes pasta like you.”

The old man beamed with unexpected pleasure.

“So.” Kate sipped her tea and studied her middle son. Even after a fine meal and friendly conversation, surrounded by loving family, he didn’t appear to be at ease. Instead, she could sense a tension in him. A subtle drawing away. “When did you get back, Donovan?”

He stared into his glass. “I’ve been back for nearly a month.”

“A…month?” Kate nearly spilled her tea before carefully setting the cup on the saucer. “And you never called?”

“Sorry.” He looked up, and the darkness was back in his eyes. “I had a lot of things to deal with.”

“Are you leaving again soon?” Kate struggled to keep her tone even. The last thing she wanted was to sound as though she were whining, but the truth was she dreaded the thought of saying goodbye. Each time Donovan went away, he took a piece of her heart with him.

He shook his head. “I’m out of…government service for good. I bought a house in the hills of Maryland.”

“You bought a house?” Kieran’s tone sharpened. “And you didn’t think to tell any of us until now?”

Donovan met the older man’s eyes. “I need to be alone for a while, Pop, while I sort out my life.”

“It seems to me you’ve had plenty of time for that, boyo. More than—” Kieran saw Kate shake her head and bit back the rest of what he’d been about to say.

“I know you don’t understand, Pop. In fact, I don’t understand it, either.” Donovan looked at his mother and saw the light going out of her smile. It hurt, knowing he was the one who always seemed to bring the darkness with him. “I may have found my niche. I’m writing a book on international criminals, and the loopholes in our laws that allow them to flourish.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “I consider myself something of an expert on that.”

“Is that what you were doing for the C.I.A.?”

Cameron saw the sudden frown on Donovan’s face before he managed to compose himself. “My work for the government is over. Now I’m going to take some time just for myself.”

“I’m glad.” Kate picked up her cup and drank, feeling her nerves begin to steady. “Can you support yourself by writing?”

Donovan shrugged. “That remains to be seen. I’ve already had an offer from a publisher. And I got a healthy settlement when I left government service. I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will.” His mother drained her cup and glanced at Kieran, who was studying his grandson through narrowed eyes. “What’s for dessert?”

Kieran pulled himself back from the million questions that begged to be asked. “Brownies and ice cream.”

“I’ll get it, Pop.” Before his grandfather could move, Donovan was striding out of the room, grateful for the chance to escape.

In the kitchen he paused beside the big bay window to stare at the battered basketball hoop above the garage. Minutes later he returned to the dining room with a tray of brownies and bowls of chocolate cookie dough ice cream.

When he’d passed them around and remained standing, Kieran looked up in surprise. “Aren’t you having any?”

Donovan shook his head. “I need to work off my food. I think I’ll shoot some hoops.”

“I’ll join you.” Micah pushed away from the table, his sweet tooth forgotten.

“Me, too.” Cameron wasn’t about to be left out.

“I’m in.” Not to be outdone by her brothers, Bren trailed after them.

Half an hour later, his mother and grandfather joined Pru at the kitchen window to watch as the four siblings did what they’d been doing since childhood.

As Donovan ruthlessly pushed and shoved and broke free to score yet another basket, it occurred to Kate that her middle son was still fighting his demons, as well as fighting for his place in the family. Though he showed a stoic face to the world, and used whatever bullying tactics he needed to stay competitive, the weight of his loss was apparent to anyone who bothered to look beneath the surface.

The tragedy of his father’s death at the hands of a gunman was still the motivating force behind everything he did. Grief still weighed heavily on his heart.

Perhaps, she realized, it always would.

Prologue

Chevy Chase, Md., 1981

“B
ren. Call your brothers in before it gets dark.” Kieran Lassiter turned to his eight-year-old granddaughter, his voice still rough from the tears shed at the funeral of his son. Police Sergeant Riordan Lassiter had been given a hero’s farewell by the city of Washington, D.C., after taking a bullet meant for his partner. The day had been a long and emotionally draining one for his widow, Kate, and her four children.

It was the first time any of the family had ever seen Kieran Lassiter cry. This stern, bear of a man was a tough former cop who had become his family’s anchor during this turbulent time. His daughter-in-law, Kate, the mother of his four grandchildren, was still reeling from her loss. But throughout the day she’d managed to keep her composure as she went through the motions of meeting and greeting the hundreds of officials who had turned out for the ceremony.

Now, at last, they had returned to their home in the nearby suburb of Chevy Chase, away from the pomp and grandeur, where they would be free to grieve in private.

Minutes later, as Kieran was pouring boiling water into a teapot, Bren returned, followed by two of her brothers.

Kieran looked up. “Where’s Donovan?”

“Up in the tree house.” Micah, the oldest at twelve, carefully hung his coat on a peg by the back door and tried not to stare at his father’s coat, hanging on a peg beside his.

“Tell him to come inside.” Kieran filled two steaming cups and handed one to Kate, who sat like a wilted flower at the big trestle table, her shoes kicked aside, her eyes red and swollen, though no one had seen her shedding her tears.

“He said he’s never coming in.” Five-year-old Cameron missed the peg and left his coat on the floor until, seeing his grandfather’s scowl, returned to the spot and carefully hung it beside Micah’s.

Kieran glanced out at the gathering darkness. “Rain’s turning to sleet again. Micah, climb up that ladder and make your brother come down this minute.”

“Can’t.” Micah held his hands over the still-warm stove, rubbing them together while keeping his back to the others. He and Cameron had been shooting hoops to stave off the time when they would have to come inside and face the empty spot at the table. Now that they were home, their loss seemed all the more real. Everywhere they looked, they could see the evidence of the loving father they’d lost. “Donovan pulled the ladder up into the tree house so nobody could follow.”

“He’ll freeze to death up there.” Kieran paced to the window, then back to the table, where Kate was already slipping into her shoes.

With a sigh she went to the back door and pulled on a coat before heading across the lawn, with the others trailing behind.

“Donovan.” With her hands cupped to her mouth she shouted into the freezing rain.

A figure appeared at the entrance to the tree house. “I’m not coming down, Mom.”

Kieran’s tone was rough with frustration. “Stop giving your mother grief, boyo. She’s had enough for one day. Now come down here. It’s going below freezing tonight.”

Donovan shook his head. “I have to be here. Don’t you understand? Dad and I…” He stopped, swallowed, then struggled on. “Dad and I built this. It was our special place.”

Kieran turned to Kate, expecting his daughter-in-law to put an end to this foolishness and order her son down without any further delay.

Instead she seemed to think about her son’s words for several minutes before lifting her head. “All right.” She passed a hand over her eyes and gave a soft shrug of her shoulders. “What do you need to get through the night?”

Kieran shot her a stunned look. His Irish brogue thickened with anger. “You’d leave a ten-year-old boy all alone in a tree house on a night like this?”

“I would. If it helped ease his pain.” She wondered what would ease her own. She glanced up. “Tell us what you need, Donovan.”

“Nothing. I don’t need anyone or anything.”

His reaction was so typical, she almost smiled. This, her middle son, had always been her most difficult child. The one to test her patience. The one to break the rules, or at least to push them to the outer limits. Riordan had called him his wild child. But he’d always said it with a trace of pride.