Return of the Prodigal Son Read Online Free
Author: Ruth Langan
his heart so badly shattered he feared it would never heal.
Chapter 2
I t was dark when Donovan returned to his home in the hills. He liked the darkness. Was comfortable with it. He found he did some of his best work while the rest of the world was sleeping. And though he’d put in a full day, driving down to his mother’s home and back, he wasn’t feeling tired. In fact, the visit with his family had been just the stimulation he needed to spend a few pleasant hours at his computer. He was looking forward to it as he passed the rental house at the bottom of the hill.
The windows glowed with light. Behind the drawn curtains he could see movement.
He hadn’t realized Champion’s sister and family had planned to move in so soon. Still, Champ had said they were coming up as soon as school closed for the summer.
He caught sight of a van parked beside the small shed at the rear of the house. The thought of people living so near had him frowning. He’d begun to enjoy the solitude of these hills. To savor the slower pace. There was no traffic. No horns. No brakes squealing. No peeling of tires. Best of all, no ambulance and police sirens breaking the night silence. Those were sounds guaranteed to wake him from a sound sleep and have him pacing the floor for hours in a cold sweat. There had been too many times that he, or one of his co-workers, had been rushed from the scene of carnage to a safe house if there had been no American hospital nearby.
As he parked and made his way up the steps of his porch, he glanced at the thick file folder lying by the door. Apparently Champ had stopped by after helping his sister move and, finding him gone, had left it on the porch, knowing nobody but Donovan would bother with it. One more reason to bless this backwoods lifestyle he’d recently adopted.
He stared at the documents with a frown, wondering again why he’d agreed to take on somebody else’s problem. He’d told himself, when he left government work behind, that he’d concentrate on his own life for a change.
He thought of his younger brother’s remark about James Bond. Was that how his family and friends saw him? If only it had been so. There had been nothing glamorous about the work he’d done. It had been dirty and dangerous, and there had been dozens of times when he’d thought about tossing in the towel and returning home to a nine-to-five job. But whenever he tried to picture himself with a wife and kids and a comfortable life in the suburbs, he knew he was fooling himself. From the time he’d been very young, there had been a devil inside, forcing him to push the boundaries.
The work he’d chosen had suited him perfectly. Until he’d had his fill. Now it was time to move on and find out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.
The rest of his life.
How many times had he wondered if he would be around another day to utter such a phrase?
He let himself into the darkened house and snapped on the lights. After climbing over a row of tumbled boxes, he tossed aside his keys and started a pot of fresh coffee before sitting down at his desk and opening the folder. Within a few minutes, his plan to work on his book was forgotten. The computer remained off as Donovan lost himself in the bizarre details of the investigation of Adam Brady and his apparent slide into criminal behavior.
Though he’d been accused of bilking his clients out of millions, none of the money had been found. Authorities were investigating every angle, from the suggestion that he’d been leading a double life, and had stashed the money with a lover, to the possibility that his current wife knew where the money was hidden and was waiting until the heat was off so she could go about spending it.
The one thing everyone seemed to agree on was that Adam Brady had been guilty as sin. And only his death had saved him from an ugly trial and eventual prison time.
By the time Donovan fell into bed at dawn, he was inclined to agree with the
Chapter 2
I t was dark when Donovan returned to his home in the hills. He liked the darkness. Was comfortable with it. He found he did some of his best work while the rest of the world was sleeping. And though he’d put in a full day, driving down to his mother’s home and back, he wasn’t feeling tired. In fact, the visit with his family had been just the stimulation he needed to spend a few pleasant hours at his computer. He was looking forward to it as he passed the rental house at the bottom of the hill.
The windows glowed with light. Behind the drawn curtains he could see movement.
He hadn’t realized Champion’s sister and family had planned to move in so soon. Still, Champ had said they were coming up as soon as school closed for the summer.
He caught sight of a van parked beside the small shed at the rear of the house. The thought of people living so near had him frowning. He’d begun to enjoy the solitude of these hills. To savor the slower pace. There was no traffic. No horns. No brakes squealing. No peeling of tires. Best of all, no ambulance and police sirens breaking the night silence. Those were sounds guaranteed to wake him from a sound sleep and have him pacing the floor for hours in a cold sweat. There had been too many times that he, or one of his co-workers, had been rushed from the scene of carnage to a safe house if there had been no American hospital nearby.
As he parked and made his way up the steps of his porch, he glanced at the thick file folder lying by the door. Apparently Champ had stopped by after helping his sister move and, finding him gone, had left it on the porch, knowing nobody but Donovan would bother with it. One more reason to bless this backwoods lifestyle he’d recently adopted.
He stared at the documents with a frown, wondering again why he’d agreed to take on somebody else’s problem. He’d told himself, when he left government work behind, that he’d concentrate on his own life for a change.
He thought of his younger brother’s remark about James Bond. Was that how his family and friends saw him? If only it had been so. There had been nothing glamorous about the work he’d done. It had been dirty and dangerous, and there had been dozens of times when he’d thought about tossing in the towel and returning home to a nine-to-five job. But whenever he tried to picture himself with a wife and kids and a comfortable life in the suburbs, he knew he was fooling himself. From the time he’d been very young, there had been a devil inside, forcing him to push the boundaries.
The work he’d chosen had suited him perfectly. Until he’d had his fill. Now it was time to move on and find out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.
The rest of his life.
How many times had he wondered if he would be around another day to utter such a phrase?
He let himself into the darkened house and snapped on the lights. After climbing over a row of tumbled boxes, he tossed aside his keys and started a pot of fresh coffee before sitting down at his desk and opening the folder. Within a few minutes, his plan to work on his book was forgotten. The computer remained off as Donovan lost himself in the bizarre details of the investigation of Adam Brady and his apparent slide into criminal behavior.
Though he’d been accused of bilking his clients out of millions, none of the money had been found. Authorities were investigating every angle, from the suggestion that he’d been leading a double life, and had stashed the money with a lover, to the possibility that his current wife knew where the money was hidden and was waiting until the heat was off so she could go about spending it.
The one thing everyone seemed to agree on was that Adam Brady had been guilty as sin. And only his death had saved him from an ugly trial and eventual prison time.
By the time Donovan fell into bed at dawn, he was inclined to agree with the
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