Page 39 of Prodigal Son

She tipped her head in silent agreement. “Take care of them. There’s only so much my department can do. We’ll call it even, then.”

Albie gave her a little two-fingered salute and walked away.

~*~

“…authorities are saying the victim was Devin Green, wanted in the UK and abroad on multiple felony charges…”

“Turn that shit off,” Phillip said of the TV.

“But this is my big moment…ow!” Devin trailed off with a hiss as Tommy pressed an ice pack to his bruised ribs. “Easy there, son, I’m not as young as I look.”

Tommy said, “Sorry.”

Fox rolled his eyes.

Between a combination of careful aiming and intentional missing on Albie’s part, and a vest and dye packs on Devin’s, Devin had suffered only bruising – but they were some nasty bruises.

Fox bit back a wince of sympathy as their resident medical “expert,” Flash, tugged the old man’s shirt the rest of the way off and gave him a clinical once-over. “Fractures?” he asked, passing a hand over Devin’s ribs.

Devin grunted, but shook his head. “No. Pretty sure not.”

Flash palpated, then nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Just rest up. Lots of painkillers.” He looked at Fox, then. “And by that I don’t mean booze.”

“Doc, that’s the best painkiller there is,” Tommy chimed in.

Flash looked unamused as he fished out a roll of compression bandages.

“We’ll keep him on the straight and narrow,” Fox promised.

They were in one of the third-floor bedrooms, this one pale ivy green, with a four-poster bed, matching dresser, and flat-screen hanging on the wall above it. On it, a severe news anchor was describing Devin’s laundry list of sins; she didn’t seem too broken up about the murder.

Albie sat in a chair in the corner, peering between the gap in the curtains at the mews behind the building. Ever the voice of reason: “The cops won’t be able to keep a lid on this for long. The detectives at the scene, Eden’s friends, are ID’ing the body as Devin, and they’ve got a cold one that just came into the morgue – John Doe, homeless, no leads – that can pass for him. But we’ve only bought us a matter of hours. Maybe a day or two, depending on how slow the wheels of justice turn. After that, Hendricks and her people will have to claim it was a clerical error and set the record straight.”

“Alright,” Phillip said. “Then we go in fast and hard.”

“Leave it to me,” Fox said, getting to his feet. He’d been sitting at the foot of the bed, and was beyond antsy at this point. “I’ll take care of it.”

Everyone else in the room opened his mouth to protest.

And Devin beat them all to the punch. “You idiot,” he said with a snort. “You may be good, but you’re notthatgood. Hell, you’re not evenme.”

“Ha,” Phillip said, mildly.

Fox shot his father a glare. “Fuck you, what are you gonna do? Break a hip?”

Flash wrapped the bandage around his far side and Devin bit back a groan, eyes squeezing shut a moment. When he opened them, they were clear, though, fixed on Fox. “Pseudonym isn’t just after me,” he said, in the sternest voice Fox had ever heard from him. “There’s twelve other people in that file they’ll want to wipe off the face of the earth. We have to find them, and trust me, kid, they aren’t going to be willing to make contact with you. You need me on this one.”

Need. The word got caught in Fox’s throat, and he swallowed it with difficulty. The idea that he needed him…

“Ha,” he said. “Or I could, you know, just get rid of Pseudonym, and then all of them are safe. Cut the head off the snake.”

“You don’t even know where to look for this snake,” Devin shot back.

“Charlie,” Phillip said, and Fox realized his hands had curled into fists; that his nails were biting into his palms. Damn it. He had to stopreactingto things.

Fox made himself take a step back, braced a hip against the edge of the dresser, folded his arms. Looked casual.

He caught his reflection in the hazy glass of a framed picture; he did not look casual.

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