Page 50 of My Fallen Saint

During yesterday’s drive, Devlin had offered to give me access to the room today. He’d also given me a much better understanding of the foundation’s core mission of protecting, rescuing, and rehabilitating victims, especially children.

“You can draw a circle around the suffering of a victim,” Devlin told me early in the conversation. “Whatever is inside that circle—be it therapy or stuffed animals, access to work-at-home, a stipend to cover lost wages, research, or assistance with law enforcement—we’re there.”

Then he went on to explain how the foundation organized its resources and identified beneficiaries.

I heard the passion in his voice as he spoke about the foundation and its work, and for most of the drive, I forgot about our past and got lost in the familiar back and forth of asking questions, following up on details, and working out the structure of my article as I processed his words.

Between Devlin’s information, meeting Laura and Sue, and the details of the raid I hope to get from Ronan Thorne, I knew I’d have more than enough for a unique spin on the Myers story. I told Roger as much when I texted him an update of what I’d learned so far in Laguna Cortez.

He’d been concerned about my reaction to Peter’s connection to The Wolf, but I’d assured him I was okay. And, right now at least, I am, though I know it might get rougher the more I learn.

Roger had also been impressed with the direction I was heading on the Myers article, and gave me until Sunday evening to file, especially since Ronan had to reschedule our talk. He told me that he’d be giving it a featured spot on the website later that week. Score one for impressing my boss.

After the call, Devlin assured me that he’d give me access to the Research Room Sunday morning so I could double-down on both Myers and the profile. Even better, he promised to arrange for Thorne to come by early enough that I had time to work his interview into the article.

Still, I hadn’t expected to have company. Not that I mind. I just expected to have the place to myself, and I wonder where I should interview Ronan when he arrives so as not to disturb my neighbor.

“The Research Room’s closed to walk-ins on the weekend,” Tamra explains. “Appointments are scheduled at my discretion or Mr. Saint’s. This is Christopher Doyle. Mr. Doyle, Ellie Holmes.”

He pushes back from his chair and leans over the table, his hand extended. I shake, trying to remember where I’ve heard his name, but I can’t place it, and tell him so.

“Not surprised. I’ve only had the one book so far. That hardly makes me a household name.”

“Mr. Doyle is researching a thriller,” Tamra says.

“The premise centers around the rehabilitation of foot soldiers in organized crime rings.”

“Foot soldiers?”

“The guys working the street. The pleebs. Folks who were maybe born into it, sucked in by friends, whatever. But they’re the ones who get caught in the brunt of the action.”

He’s right. The guys on the street are the ones most frequently caught in the law enforcement net. “And it’s a thriller?” I ask.

“Sure. Those guys don’t want to be there—it’s like being drafted. That’s why rehabilitation efforts tend to be very effective for them. Just push them back to the good side, right?”

I nod.

“But what if someone is only pretending? He’s been rehabbed—and celebrated for it—but he’s a walking time bomb.” He grins, obviously into his idea.

“Not bad,” I admit. “I’d read that.”

“Well, that’s one sale in my pocket,” he says, and the three of us laugh.

Tamra gets me set up, and I dive into the foundation’s files on both Myers and the non-confidential material on the children the foundation has helped.

She also pulls information on the Nevada human trafficking ring that Devlin and I will be talking about on Monday. I plan to start plowing through those boxes as soon as I finish the article for Roger.

After that, I’m going to ask Tamra if the foundation has files on The Wolf.

I’m deep into research when Ronan Thorne joins me, then suggests we move to the break room so that we can have coffee and not disturb Doyle, who’s still taking notes like crazy.

“I wasn’t on the team to clear Myers’ house,” Thorne says. “Only law enforcement went in. They wanted to be squeaky clean on procedure and the chain of evidence. But I was outside in case they needed backup, and then once they started bringing those kids out…”

He trails off, his face so full of pain it makes my chest ache. “Ronan? Mr. Thorne?”

“Sorry.” His voice is thick. “It’s rough. With kids involved, I mean.”

“It is.”