Return of the Prodigal Son Read Online Free Page A

authorities who were convinced of Brady’s guilt. What other explanation could there be for the loss of millions of dollars?
    Still, he had promised his old friend he would do his best. If he could find even one tiny flaw in the case, he would pursue it to its logical conclusion. At least then he would have the satisfaction of having done all that was humanly possible before closing the file on this dead man.
    It was laughter that woke him. A child’s high-pitched giggles that seemed to come from somewhere nearby.
    Donovan pulled the covers over his head and tried to block the sound. It came again, louder and closer, until it seemed to be just outside his window.
    He sat up, tossing aside the covers as he climbed out of bed and stalked across the room. He looked out the window, hoping to spot the culprit. When he saw two figures race around the corner of his house, he pulled on a pair of faded jeans and hurried, barefoot, to the door.
    “Ohhh, Cory. Don’t touch him. He might bite.” A little girl was standing slightly behind a boy who was crouched down, reaching into the bushes.
    There was a rustling sound and the boy jumped back, knocking the girl to the ground. As he turned to help her up, a fat woodchuck waddled deeper into the brush and disappeared from sight.
    “He got away.” Annoyed, the boy was about to start after the animal when he caught sight of Donovan and froze.
    The little girl ducked behind the boy, peering fearfully around his shoulder. While his hair was dark, the girl’s hair was pale wheat. Both of them had round, solemn faces and wide, honey-colored eyes. Even without an introduction, it was obvious they were brother and sister.
    The boy’s chin came up like a prizefighter, anticipating the punch. “We didn’t mean to.”
    “Mean to what?” Donovan’s eyes flashed fire. He halted a few steps away when he saw the fear in the little girl’s eyes.
    “Set foot on your property. Uncle Champ said we shouldn’t. But Taylor saw the guinea pig and we thought we could catch it.”
    “That wasn’t a guinea pig.”
    “It wasn’t?”
    Donovan shook his head, his anger quickly dissolving into mere annoyance. “It was a woodchuck. And he wouldn’t like being caught.” He glanced at the little girl, still hiding behind the boy’s back. “Your sister was right. He’d probably bite if he felt cornered. Most animals will fight back if they have no other choice.”
    Because his hands had automatically closed into fists, he tucked them into his back pockets and decided to start over. “My name’s Donovan. What’s yours?”
    The boy paused a beat, as though debating the wisdom of revealing his identity. It occurred to Donovan that even at this young age, the boy had already learned a painful lesson about the pitfalls of bearing a famous, or in his case, infamous name. How many times had he been teased and taunted about his father’s crimes since the media had begun its attack?
    “I’m Cory. And this is my sister, Taylor.”
    “Hi, Cory. Taylor.” If Donovan couldn’t manage a smile, at least he tried to appear less threatening. “How old are you?”
    The little girl ducked her head and stared hard at the ground.
    “She’s five. And I’m nine.” Cory pinned Donovan with a look. “You going to tell our mom we were on your property?”
    “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
    Cory started to relax until Donovan added, “I think she’s just found out for herself.”
    The boy kicked at a stone and muttered under his breath as a dark-haired woman came rushing toward them, looking completely flustered. Her cheeks were red, her breathing labored, as though she’d been running at top speed.
    “Cory. Taylor. I told you to stay close to the house.”
    “We saw a guinea pig, Mom.” The little girl forgot her fear now that her mother was near. “We almost caught it. But it got away. And our neighbor says it isn’t a guinea pig. It’s a woodpecker.”
    “Not a woodpecker.”