Page 81 of My Fallen Saint

After we hang up, I finish getting dressed, then bring my laptop and my mom’s diaries into bed with me. I know I should be prepping for the call, but this is the first chance I’ve had to look at the books, which I’d shoved into my bag since they’d arrived the same day we’d left for Vegas, and I’d been eager to review them. Now, I’m even more eager, since there might be something in there that will be useful in the interview.

I know I should start at the beginning, but I don’t have much time before the call. And what does it matter what order I go in so long as I ultimately find all the relevant chapters?

So instead of starting at the beginning, I flip through the books until I find the first one that mentions my mom’s pregnancy. I force myself not to read, but I flip the pages, relishing the sight of my name in my mom’s handwriting as I look for the words Peter or brother.

I find it a few times, but nothing seems relevant until I’m near the end of the one book.

Came to LA to see Peter while he is in California on business. He’s supposed to be taking me and Ellie to lunch, but he had to make a stop, and now we are parked in the driveway of a cute bungalow in the Hollywood Hills. Peter says he’s “working,” but I don’t appreciate being left in the car. Ellie is getting bored and cranky.

It’s not just that. More and more I worry about him. He says I don’t understand the business world, and maybe he’s right, but I sometimes think he’s not in business at all. Or at least not any kind of business the wife of a Police Chief should know about.

But that gives me hope, too. Because surely if he was doing anything untoward, he would not be taking me with him? Right now, I —oh, must go. He is signaling us to come to the door.

Back again. What a strange day. A pretty woman named Caitlyn Devline opened the main door, but wouldn’t open the glass exterior door, and she seemed nervous. A little boy a few years older than Ellie clung to her leg, and Ellie amused herself waving to him. Peter told her that Daniel was sorry. That he wanted to work something out, and that they both needed to be reasonable.

When we finally got to lunch, I asked Peter what was going on and why he wanted me at the door and why he introduced Ellie as his niece. He said he wanted me and Ellie there so that Caitlyn would understand that Peter loved his niece and would never risk a child. He only wanted to help her and little Alejandro.

He said that Caitlyn was his boss’s ex-wife, and that they are in a custody battle. He said that she stole the boy in violation of the terms of their agreement and he was hoping that she understood that they needed to work something out or else his boss would pull out the big guns. Lots of lawyers, I suppose, all trying to take away that sweet little boy.

I spent the rest of lunch hugging Ellie close, thinking how horrible it would be to lose her to anyone.

I read the entry again and again, until I’ve chewed the words down to the bone. My mother loved me. I always knew that, of course, but seeing it in print warms me right down to my soul.

As for the rest, this entry might be a way to confirm Peter’s association with The Wolf. If Caitlyn was the ex-wife of The Wolf or anyone in The Wolf’s entourage, well, that had to mean something, right?

Something really not good as far as I’m concerned.

I’m still mulling it over when the alarm on my phone signals that it’s almost time for the prison to call. Knowing the inefficiency of government branches, I expect the call to be late and am pleasantly surprised when it rings exactly on time.

It takes a few minutes to get Cornwell on the line, but soon enough I hear a gruff, “You really Peter White’s niece?”

“I am. And I lived with him from the time I was thirteen until I was seventeen.”

“That when he got clipped?”

“Yes.” I blinked, surprised at the tears. I’d been expecting this conversation, after all. I sniffle, then cringe, certain Cornwell can hear my reaction and hoping my sentimentality won’t make him cut the call short.

His next words are surprising with their gentleness. “He was a good guy, your uncle. I met your mom once. Total accident. He didn’t want her in that life. And, well, what with your Pa.”

I close my eyes, realizing that I’m sitting on the floor, my back to the wall. I’d started the conversation pacing. But my body seems to have processed the truth a lot faster than my mind has.

“So my uncle really was in The Wolf’s organization.” It’s a fair assumption. I already know that Cornwell was.

He makes a derisive snort. “In? Yeah, you could say that.”

“Right.” I draw in a breath.

There’s silence for a minute, and he says, “Hey, girlie. You okay? My lawyer said you wanted to know who killed him. I thought you already knew he was tight with Danny.”

I suck in air, nodding to myself. “I suspected—or, I guess I knew—that he was dealing around Laguna Cortez. But I didn’t know he was in deep.”

“Sorry for the kick in the nuts, then.”

“How come you’ve never told anyone this before?”

I can practically hear his shrug. “What? Rat a guy out? Fuck that. I’m only telling you because it’s been long enough, and you should know. You hadn’t asked, I wouldn’ta never told.”

He goes on to tell me that The Wolf and Peter had met when they were young and Peter rose up in the organization. “I think he wanted to get out. That’s part of why he moved to LC. He was supposed to be helping his brother-in-law with his kid. That was you, I guess?”