by Ruth Langan
He’d never outgrown his love of a good, satisfying fight.
His office, a stone’s throw from the seat of power, reflected old money. Plush carpeting. Walls paneled in imported teak. On a sideboard, a Waterford pitcher and tumblers. The conference rooms boasted the latest in technology, of fering an opportunity to see and speak with anyone in the world.
After graduating law school, Cam’s mother had become a family advocate, opening an office in the poorest section of the district. Kate Lassiter’s days were spent helping clients, many of whom were illiterate, to find their way through a maze of paperwork in order to secure basic necessities such as rent payments, medical help, food stamps.
Anyone who saw Cameron Lassiter, in his custom-tailored suits and flashy car, would be astounded to learn that he routinely did pro bono work for his mother. To date, he’d taken over a dozen cases, once considered beyond hope, and had their convictions overturned.
“Kate Lassiter.”
“Hi, Mom.” At the sound of her voice Cam leaned back in his chair. “How’s your day going?”
She sighed. “Don’t ask.”
“That good, huh?” He fiddled with the gold pen on his desk. “How can I help?”
He heard the smile come into her voice. “You know me so well, Cam. I have this family. Actually, it’s a grandmother and her grandson. The boy’s mother hasn’t been around in years. Ap parently she left the boy with his grandmother and took off for parts unknown.”
“You want me to find her?”
“No. There’s another family member. The boy has a father in prison. I wonder if you’d mind looking at his file.”
“What’s his crime?”
Kate paused just a beat before saying, “He was convicted of killing a police officer.”
Cam’s voice hardened. “I can’t believe you’d even consider this, Mom.”
The silence stretched out between them before Kate sighed. “Will you be coming by tonight for dinner?”
Cam glanced at his calendar and noted a meeting with the decorator at his new house in Virginia. “I think so.”
“Would you mind if I brought the case file?”
It was Cam’s turn to sigh. “You can bring it, but I won’t promise to read it.”
“I understand.” Over a commotion in the background Kate could be heard saying, “I have to go. I’ll see you at home.”
Cam hung up the phone and sat a moment, eyes narrowed in thought. The sudden, wrenching pain caught him by surprise. It had been nearly twenty-five years since his father’s life had been snuffed out by a thug’s bullet. Yet he could remember the days that followed as vividly as though they’d happened yesterday. The funeral, with its honor guard and twenty-one-gun salute that left his heart pounding. The tears in his grandfather’s eyes. The stoic way his mother had herded her family through the crowds of celebrities who had come to pay their respects. And later, the way the family stopped talking whenever he came into the room. He now understood that they’d only been trying to shield a five-year-old from the realities of life. What they’d failed to understand was that even at that tender age, he was grieving as deeply as they were, but was unable to express that grief.
His hands fisted at his sides as he stood and shoved back his chair. There was almost nothing he wouldn’t do for his mother. But this time she was asking too much.
He’d be damned if he’d defend a cop killer.
“About time you got here, bro.” Micah Lassiter clapped a hand on Cam’s shoulder the minute he stepped into the kitchen.
Across the room Micah’s wife, Pru, was stirring something on the stove.
Cam glanced around at the familiar chaos. Meals at the Lassiter home were never quiet or simple. His brother Donovan was showing his son, Cory, how to grate cheese over steaming asparagus. Donovan’s wife, Andi, was coaching their daughter, Taylor, in the proper way to skim gravy. Mary Brendan, now a member of the U.S. Congress, was mashing potatoes. Her husband, Chris, who had just been promoted to assistant police chief in D.C., was slicing a loaf of freshly baked bread. In the midst of it all was Kieran Lassiter, like a proud old lion, with that mane of white hair and those laughing blue eyes, carving a roast of beef.
“Stash that briefcase and fancy jacket, boyo.” He waved his carving knife like a sword. “We need someone with your fine legal expertise to toss the salad.”
Donovan burst into laughter. “I always knew that brain would be good for something.”
Cam grinned as he walked into the great room and disposed of his attaché case and suit jacket. Rolling his sleeves, he returned to the noise of the kitchen and plunged into his chore. This was just what he needed to forget the cares of the day. His client, Lou Carlson, had been a tedious windbag. And the long-legged, gorgeous paralegal in the D.A.’s office, who was supposed to meet him later for drinks, had begged off because an old classmate had just arrived in D.C. Cam was willing to bet the old classmate was also an old boyfriend. Not that it mattered. There had been no sparks between them. Still, she was easy on the eye and made for a pleasant diversion.
Sometimes when he looked at his siblings, he couldn’t help envying them the partners they’d found. Each of them seemed to bring something unique and special to the family. He doubted he’d ever meet someone who could fit in with the very loud and very opinionated Lassiters.
By the time Kate walked in, the laughter and easy banter had escalated to a roar.
“I saw you on TV this afternoon, Bren.” Micah winked at Donovan, prepared to tease his sister about her newly acquired fame. “Now about this bill you’re proposing. Do I understand that our esteemed members of Congress now hope to control even our garbage?”
That had everyone howling with laughter.
Bren’s answering smile was forced. “Maybe you don’t care that this country is drowning in garbage, but I do. And I intend to do something about it.”
“You realize the media has already dubbed it the Lassiter Garbage Bill.” Donovan kept a straight face. “Now there’s something to wear with pride.”
“I’ll have you know…” Bren’s words faded when her husband drew an arm around her shoulders and whispered in her ear.
She pushed away. “Of course I know they’re having fun at my expense. It’s the Lassiter way. But I have a right to defend my position.”
“And your garbage,” Cam muttered as he mixed precise amounts of vinegar and oil like a chemist.
Bren was about to argue the point when Chris whispered something more that had her blushing.
“You care to share, little sis?” Micah was grinning like a fool. “Or have you two suddenly decided that you have to leave right after dinner?”
“Leave your sister alone, Micah.” Pru stepped close and linked her arm with his.
“Yes, dear. Anything you say, dear.” He grinned and brushed a kiss over her cheek.
“Which translates into, ‘Let’s follow Chris and Bren’s lead and ditch the family as soon as possible.’” Donovan’s words had the entire family laughing.
Kate kicked off her shoes and settled herself at the big trestle table, letting the sights and sounds of her family wash over her. This was what she needed at the end of a long, challenging day. Just the knowledge that she could return to this place, and this tightly knit clan, made all the work worthwhile.
Kieran placed a cup of tea in front of her. “You’re quiet tonight, Katie girl.”
“Just a bit tired. But this restores me.”
He nodded. “I know what you mean.”
It wasn’t long before the meal had been carried into the dining room and the entire family was gathered around the table.
As they took their places, they linked hands while Kieran intoned the words they’d heard since childhood. “Bless this food and those gathered here to share it. And bless Riordan, who watches over us all.”
Cameron glanced at his mother and saw her eyes close for just a moment at the mention of her dead husband. It had been her strength that had
kept them all going after their terrible loss. Where had that great well of strength come from?
Bren turned to Cameron. “I heard your firm mentioned today in connection with the Mc Gonnagle-Carlson case. They’re talking about millions of dollars. Have you heard who’s going to be assigned to it?”
Cam nodded. “Yeah. Looks like I drew the short straw.”
“You?”
Everyone at the table was staring at him.
“When were you going to tell us, boyo?” Kieran’s smile spread across his face.
“I figured I’d get around to it sooner or later.” Cam buttered a slice of bread before glancing at his sister. “And it isn’t for millions. The winner will get more than a billion dollars in the final settlement.”
Even Donovan, who always managed to turn everything into a joke, looked impressed.
Micah lifted his cup of tea. “Here’s to you, little brother.”
The others followed suit, lifting glasses of milk and cups of tea.
Cam winked at his nephew, Cory. “Don’t let all this fool you. Did you hear what your uncle Micah called me? They still think of me as the baby of the family.”
“Not any more, bro.” Micah glanced around at the others, who were smiling and nodding. “I’d say you’ve made it to the big time.”
Across the table Kate smiled at her son. “This is a grand honor, Cameron. I know you’ll win this case for your firm.”
He laughed. “If I don’t, I may be looking for a job.”
Pru spoke up. “If that happens, I know the perfect place.”
When the others looked at her she added, “I happen to know a certain family advocate who is swamped with work. I’ve heard from our caseworkers at Children’s Village that Kate’s office does more for the disadvantaged of the city than any government agency.”
Kate blushed. “I think you’re exaggerating, Pru.”
“Not at all. Every day I come into contact with people singing your praises, Kate. They claim without the work you do, they would have no one to turn to for help in this big, impersonal city.”
“I do my best.” Kate ducked her head and finished her tea.
After thick slices of carrot cake and many cups of tea, the family began clearing the table. While the dining room grew quiet, the noise level in the kitchen grew to a roar.
Micah loaded plates in the dishwasher. “How’s that big, fancy house in Virginia coming, little brother?”
“I met with the decorator again. Everything’s in place except for the king-size bed. It had to be custom-ordered.”
“Judging by the time it’s taken you, I thought everything in that mansion was being customized.” Donovan grinned at his wife. “Seems to me you’ve been almost a year in getting it the way you want it. Are you sure this is a house? Or maybe you’re designing yourself a monument.”
“I like things neat.”
“Is that so?” Micah tossed him a wet dishrag. “That makes you the perfect candidate for cleaning up the dining room table.”
While the others laughed, Cam stepped into the dining room and wiped down the table. That finished, he looked toward a light in the great room. Kate sat at a desk, where a file folder lay open.
He walked up beside her. “Homework?”
“Yeah.” She looked up smiling. “It never ends, does it?”
He shook his head and began to read over her shoulder.
“Who is Tio Johnson?”
“The boy I told you about. He lives with his grandmother. She’s worried she’s going to lose him. The authorities have threatened to take him away because he’s missed so much school.”
“Why is he missing school?”
Kate shrugged. “Instead of going to class, he hitches rides to McCutchin Prison to visit his father. Then he hitches rides back home, sometimes after dark.”
Cam frowned. “Sounds like the grandmother needs to have a little better control of the kid.”
Kate sat back and looked at her son. “You mean, the way your grandfather and I had control of you when you were constantly getting into fights.”
Cam crossed his arms over his chest. “That was different.”
“How?”
“I wasn’t hitching rides to prison to visit a convicted killer.”
“No. You were getting kicked out of one school after another. Picking fights with boys twice your size to prove how tough you were. And as I recall, doing it all because you were mad at the whole world.”
Cam’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m going to see some connection between this kid and me?”
Kate shook her head. “Of course not. What possible similarity could there be between you, a privileged boy who’d lost his father to death, and a boy from the ghetto who’s lost his father to prison?” She turned away. “Now I’d better get back to work.”
He reached over her shoulder and picked up the file folder. “I want to read this.”
She looked up. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Maybe to prove to you and to myself that what happens to this kid and his family is no concern of mine.”
“Fine. Read it.” She watched as he headed for the stairs. “You aren’t going home tonight?”
He shook his head. The house he’d bought, in the rolling Virginia countryside, was being completely refurbished by one of the area’s top decorating firms. The minute he’d seen the spacious rooms, the big, open fireplace, the rolling acres of lawn, he’d vowed to make it his. And though it now boasted fresh paint and carpeting, and rooms filled with exquisite furniture, Cam didn’t want to move in until everything was just right. At least that’s what he told himself.
“The bed I ordered still hasn’t been delivered. I’m going up to my old room.”
Kate pointed with her pen. “See that I get Tio’s file back before you leave in the morning.”
Cameron was at the door of his old apartment above the garage before it hit him. His mother knew him so well. She’d known, of course, that he could never resist a challenge, whether it was with his fists or his mind. And so she’d set him up perfectly.
He sighed. As long as he had the file, he’d read it. But nothing would change his mind. He didn’t care how sad this kid’s story was, Cam had no intention of wasting his time and energy on a cop killer.
He turned on the bedside lamp and plumped up the pillow before settling down to read.
Chapter 2
Hearing no morning sounds in the kitchen, Cam picked up his attaché case from the hall table. The moment he stepped through the doorway, he realized his mistake. Kieran was at the stove, turning bacon. Kate was at the table, sipping coffee.
Both looked up as he entered.
“Sit down, boyo.” Kieran started filling a plate with bacon and scrambled eggs.
“Sorry, Pop. I don’t have time.”
“You’ll make time.” It was an argument they’d waged since Cam was a boy. Kieran ex pected everyone to start the day with fuel. In this case, enough food to feed an army.
“Look, Pop…”
“Sit. Your breakfast is getting cold.” Kieran set the plate on the table and returned to the stove for the coffee.
Across the table Kate merely rolled her eyes and bit into toast.
Defeated, as he knew he would be, Cam dropped his attaché case onto a chair and tucked into his meal. After several bites he cleared his throat. “I have Tio’s file. Interesting bedtime reading.” He unsnapped his case and handed his mother the manila folder. He waited a beat before asking, “What will you recommend to his caseworker?”
“That he be allowed to remain in the custody of his grandmother. But I fear I’ll have little influence. She wants him taken from his grandmother’s care and placed in a juvenile facility until they determine whether or not she’s fit to care for the boy.”
Cam’s head came up. “Why a juvenile facility?”
“So he can’t run away again and hitch a ride to prison.”
“Oh, great. And in the meantime, the kid will be s
tuck in a place with delinquents, troublemakers and juvenile criminals. I’ll bet that’ll teach him.” His voice lowered. “Does this caseworker really believe a juvenile facility will hold that kid?”
“She considers it a better alternative than living with a grandmother who can’t make him behave.”
“Oh, he’ll behave in juvie, all right. Until the first chance he gets to break free. Then he’ll end up living on the street.”
Kate sipped her coffee. “It sounds as though Tio Johnson is getting to you.”
Cam shook his head. “He’s just a name in a file. But the file makes him out to be a criminal, when all he really is a twelve-year-old kid who wants to see his father.”
Kate shrugged. “My hands are tied, Cameron. I can recommend that he remain with his grandmother, but the boy’s caseworker will have the final say.”
Cam shoved away from the table and tossed down his napkin. “Well, my hands aren’t tied. I’m not going to stand by and watch some smug little social worker take this kid away from the only steadying influence in his life. I may not approve of his father, but that doesn’t mean I won’t fight for the kid.”
“You’re taking up Tio’s cause?”
He paused at the door. “Just watch me.”
Cam parked his car outside the dingy offices his mother shared with an overworked, under-paid staff. He and his brothers had spent a weekend last summer painting the walls of the office in bright colors, while his sister had added pretty touches like plants and silk flowers. Now, though the plants thrived, the silk flowers were faded and the walls were chipped and peeling. He felt a measure of guilt for the plush office he enjoyed at Stern Hayes Wheatley.
His mother’s smile, when she caught sight of him, more than made up for the drab surroundings.
“Cameron. What a surprise.” Kate was on her feet and in the doorway as he threaded his way between the desks.
