Page 92 of My Fallen Saint

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Do you want to go with me after breakfast?” I ask Brandy. I hold up the yellow-pad I’d taken with me yesterday to see Chief Randall so she can see my long list of names. Devlin and I had returned from Newport Beach just before four, and I’d gone straight to the station and holed up in one of the interview rooms with the material Randall had pulled for me. There’d been a lot to sort through, but by the time I left around eight last night, I’d scored several leads.

Brandy squints at my list from where she’s making muffin-sized frittatas. “These are all the people Peter worked with? Drug customers?”

I shake my head. “Some of them, maybe. The list was compiled as part of the investigation into the shooting. But most were never interviewed because Ricky Mercado confessed and the investigation shut down.”

“And you’re going to ask them what?”

“What they remember about Peter. If they knew of anyone with a grudge. Anything to get a lead on who might have killed Peter. I won’t directly ask them if they were buying or dealing drugs with him, but I’m hoping to get a sense.” I tap my pencil on the pad. “Believe it or not, I’m pretty decent at this. Investigative reporter, remember?”

“I’m sure you’re aces at it. I just wonder if anyone will remember. It’s been a long time.”

“True, but I’m still going to make the rounds, and I’d love company. I’m going to head out about nine and wrap up about noon. Then after lunch I’m going to the foundation.”

“To see Devlin?” She waggles her brow, grinning. “I’m psyched, you know.”

I pretend to be annoyed, but since I’m the one who told her everything about yesterday by the marina, I don’t pull it off very well.

Still, the truth is, I could be wrong. Right now, I think that Devlin and I slipped back toward the together side of the equation—at least until I go back to Manhattan—but I’m not a hundred percent sure.

Our time on the boardwalk may have been a wild mix of testosterone and lust, but since we didn’t sit down and have an actual where do we stand conversation, I don’t know for certain that anything truly shifted.

“You have that look,” Brandy says, sliding the muffins into the oven. “What?”

I lift a shoulder casually. “I just wish I knew where we stood. I mean, no matter what, I’m going back to New York soon, so…”

I trail off, not wanting to think about the fact that Devlin is one of the few men who actually could pull off a long-distance relationship. He has a shiny, fast jet, after all. But even before the alley, we both knew that there was an expiration date on this fling. I’m glad we’ve moved on from our past, but that doesn’t mean we’ve landed firmly in the future.

“Anyway,” I say, wanting to get the conversation back on track, “I’m not going to the foundation to see Devlin. I’m going to do some more research on Peter. Promise not to say anything to Christopher, but there are some documents Devlin doesn’t keep in the circulating collection. He said he doubted they’d help, but he also said it was my time to waste.”

As it turns out, waste is right. Devlin acquired many of his father’s documents and records after his death, but nothing I find in the depths of the boxes gives me any lead on Peter’s killer.

I’m wrapping up when Tamra joins me.

“I’m glad he told you the truth,” Tamra says, and I immediately look around, worrying that someone will overhear us.

Tamra laughs. “And I’m glad you’re watching out for him, too.”

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. “Reflex,” I say, because of course we’re completely alone in the research room. I bite my lower lip. “You know, too.”

“About his father. The Wolf.” She nods. “Yes.”

“How?“

“I was friends with Caitlyn, his mother.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that, and I lean forward.

“She met Daniel when she ran away. She ended up on the streets doing drugs, and somehow she caught the attention of one of his men. They brought her to Nevada, Daniel cleaned her up, and she got pregnant.”

“Were you there? How do you know all this?”

“She told me. After she was clean, she started paying more attention. She saw what Daniel was doing—and that wasn’t a life she wanted for her son.”

“She ran.”

Tamra nods. “Her parents bought her a house in the hills. They put title in a trust so it wasn’t obvious that it was hers.” I must look confused, because she adds, “She couldn’t go home. It would be too easy for him to find her. She was even planning to leave the country, but that didn’t happen.”