Ryan rubbing paint off my cheek with his thumb.
Then I saw my mother’s glasses beneath his boot.
Crunch.
“Did you ever?”
“What?”
“Love me.”
His breathing stopped.
That was the first honest answer he gave me.
Silence.
I hung up.
The investigation lasted seven months.
Ryan had used charitable organizations as both camouflage and plumbing.
Not every charity was fake.
That was what made it work.
He raised real money.
Fed real families.
Paid real medical bills.
Organized real Thanksgiving drives.
Then he buried fraudulent invoices among legitimate ones.
A church roof repair cost $84,000.
Ryan authorized $124,000.
The extra disappeared.
A community center received a grant.
A related consulting company charged management fees.
The owner of the consulting company was another shell.
Ryan.
His goodness had not been completely fabricated.
That would have been easier.
He had genuinely helped people.
He had simply decided that helping people entitled him to steal from them too.
