My Cruel Salvation (Fallen Saint # 3) - J. Kenner Page 0,83
it’s not Walt,” I say, cornering him at the pantry. “So if it turns out Christopher’s text was telling the truth, then what does that mean? Somebody new on the radar?”
Devlin sighs, looking completely exhausted. “At this point, I’m not taking anything on faith. But, you’re right. I don’t think it’s Walt. His claim sounds like opportunism to force me to settle in light of the bad press surrounding the revelation about my father. What happened to my house, on the other hand, is payback.”
“Agree,” I say as I loop my arms around him. “But by who? Tied to Blackstone, most likely, but he’s dead. So what are you going to do?”
“Do you really want to know the answer to that question?”
I frown. What I know is that he’s going to go back upstairs and get on the phone with Ronan and Reggie and Penn and Claire and Charlie and Grace and all of the other Saint’s Angels that I haven’t yet met. They’re going to make a plan for finding out everything they can, using whatever methods they can, including the kind of methods that law enforcement doesn’t have access to. Not legally anyway.
As for Walt, though he’s not saying so, I’m certain the team will be poking around there, too. Devlin may believe Walt had nothing to do with this, but he won’t completely write it off until he’s sure. He’ll poke around in that cretin’s life again, utilizing the kind of tools that constitutes cutting corners in the world of police procedure and judicial conduct.
I want to say that I disapprove. That he can’t do that. That he needs to let the process be the process, and trust that the authorities will find the answers. I want to say it, but I can’t, because I’m not sure I believe that anymore. So instead I just hold him close. “I’m going to stay with Brandy down here. You do what you have to do, okay?”
His brows rise just slightly, and I’m certain he understands everything that I’ve left unsaid. Then he nods, kisses my forehead, and turns and goes toward my room.
“Devlin,” I call, fighting the urge to join him, to listen in on his meetings and think about whatever information they’ve come across, to see if I find something in the bits of gossip and information and evidence that perhaps they don’t see. But when he stops turns and looks back at me, all I can think to say is, “Let me know if you find anything.”
A hint of a smile touches his lips, and I know he understands. “Of course I will,” he says. And then he’s gone.
Chapter Thirty-One
I wake on the couch in the morning with a blanket over me feeling groggy and disoriented. I push myself up, my head pounding. I stumble into the kitchen to start coffee, only to find that Brandy is already there, sipping on something cold and green.
“Hey. Is Devlin up?”
“Not sure. He came in last night and covered you up right before I went to bed.”
“He should have woken me up.”
She laughs. “Believe me, he tried. He thought about carrying you to bed, but we decided to just leave you.”
“Wow. I remember none of that.”
“You were exhausted. You’d had a hell of a day.”
True enough. I pour myself a cup of coffee and am about to go poke my head in at Devlin, when Brandy blurts out, “How long would it take a statement to go public these days?”
I squint at her, trying to make sense of the words. “What do you mean?”
“Like if I wanted to say something about what Walt is putting Devlin through, how soon could it be printed in an actual publication, so that people see it? I mean, not just on a Twitter feed.”
“Honestly, something like that on your own social media would probably go viral pretty quickly once people notice it. But if you want it to have the cast of legitimacy by being published in some sort of official news media, I’d say it depended on the media. Whether or not they’re the type of place that posts things regularly, or whether they wait until an official publication date.” I study her. “Brandy, what are you thinking?”
“It just pisses me off. All of it, I mean. The house most of all, of course, but there’s nothing I can do about that. But this all started when Devlin’s reputation was attacked in New York, right?”