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SEAMUS STOOD UP and tapped on the door. That was my signal to come in so that he could administer Communion to Doyle. I waited just inside the door and watched silently as my grandfather prepared the wine and host and recited the litany. Doyle moved only his head to take the Communion wafer and drink from the chalice.

As my grandfather packed up his satchel and headed out of the conference room, he turned and said to Doyle, “Bless you, my son. The first step in any redemption is admitting your mistakes.”

Seamus made a point of looking down at the floor and not making eye contact with me or Trilling as he hurried out of the office. I wasn’t sure what that meant.

Doyle appeared decidedly more confident. Making his confession and receiving Holy Communion had clearly taken a weight off of him. He sat up straight in the chair, looked at me, and said, “I’ll tell you one thing for sure.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I screwed up. I listened to the wrong people.”

“Like your cousin, Celeste.”

That had exactly the kind of effect I was hoping it would. Doyle seemed stunned by the comment. He tried to come up with the words to express it, but he was at a loss.

I said, “It looks like she had you murder a lot of decent people just so she could advance her own career.”

Doyle still looked like he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it.

“I might not be able to make a case against her. It might not even affect her campaign. You’re our only link to her. We could use an assist.”

Rob Trilling had stepped into the room with me. He sat down next to Doyle. They spoke quietly for a minute, Doyle nodding. Knowing the two of them had talked for a while privately, I was hoping Trilling had a better rapport with the former Army officer.

Then Doyle turned to me and said, “I’m not looking for anything off my sentence. I know I couldn’t get anything off my sentence. But if I help you guys make a case, what would I have to do? How much do I have to admit to?”

I thought about it for a moment. “You’ve got to own up to the murders in this case. That’s the most important thing.”

“And you won’t ask me any questions about my past?”

“I won’t, but I can’t guarantee someone else won’t ask down the road.” That seemed to satisfy him.

Doyle said, “If you bring me a pen and paper, uncuff one of my hands, and bring me another soda, I can start making a list of everyone related to my cousin’s case. To be clear, Celeste has been very careful. We’ve only met about this twice in person. But I’ll do what I can.”

I wished everyone who tried to help us was as sincere.