Free Convicted: A Mafia Romance by Jacee Macguire Page A

You’re interested in locating a young man who lived here?”
    “Yes,” Davis said. “From what we can tell from our research, the young man is related to my client.”
    I hadn’t even thought to ask Davis what our angle was in approaching the orphanage to get information, but he was damn good, terrible health or not.
    “Oh. Well, that’s just wonderful. And I guess you have the boy’s name?”
    “I do. He is sure to be grown now, but we had hoped you might be able to provide information to help us locate him. His name is Theron. Theron Christakos.”
    The woman stiffened at the name. Yeah, she knew the asshole. I could see it in her eyes. She was glad to be rid of him, I suspect. “He... he hasn’t been living here for some time.”
    “Are you alright, Mrs. Holloway?” I asked. She suddenly looked a little pale.
    “Yes. Well, it’s just that... well... I hate to speak ill about the boys who have been through here, but that boy was a monster. At first, he was so sweet. You see, he was left here shortly after his birth. I had felt so sorry for him. But in his teens, I found him in the office with his file spread out on his lap. He was never the same after that day. For years, he was the devil incarnate. Then he turned eighteen and left. I’d never been happier to see a child leave in all my years.”
    “Why is that?” Davis asked, leaning forward in his seat.
    “He tormented the other children. If something bad happened, it always came back to him.”
    “I see. Do you have a picture of him?”
    She nodded, digging a file from her desk drawer.
    “I thought you would want to see his file. It’s been in storage for years, I’m afraid, but everything is there. His family history and... well, you’d know all about that.”
    Davis and I toiled over the file for almost an hour. The most recent picture of Theron was from his early teens, which didn’t give us much to go on. But we could use it with age progression software to get an idea what he might look like today. Mrs. Holloway answered what questions she could about Theron and his past, finally telling us we could have the file. Davis thanked her for her help and excused himself to use the restroom.
    “Mrs. Holloway, did Theron leave anything behind? Personal effects, maybe?”
    “He did. Let me get those for you. It may sound cold, but I will be glad to see them gone. You can take them with you.”
    “Thank you.”
    Davis returned just as Mrs. Holloway walked back into the office with a small shoe box. I’d never thought about how sad his life must have been here, compared to that of Sebastian’s. To have all of your possessions fit in such a small box was heartbreaking. Many women would be brought to tears at a thought like that, but not me. Not for Theron. I wouldn’t cry for him. Not after what he had done.
    “Here you are.”
    “Thank you. Are you sure you won’t be needing these back?”
    “No. You keep them. If you find him... give them to him.”
    Rosie walked us to the front door, wishing us well in our search. Davis waddled down the rickety steps to the car, leaving me to thank Rosie for her help. I heard the alarm beep as he unlocked the door and hastened my final thank you’s. Just as I began to shake Rosie’s hand, I heard the engine roar to life then BOOM! The car exploded into a blaze of roaring fire. Rosie and I were tossed against the house by the sheer force of the blast alone.
    My head ached and my hearing was fuzzy as the world slowly came back into focus, the explosion still echoing in my head. The sight of the car I had been minutes away from climbing into was a rolling ball of fire, torn open like a tuna can. And then it hit me that Davis Jackson was gone. Just like Meg and Astra. I snapped my head around, looking for any signs of Theron, as if I’d know what to look for. I huddled against the wall of the orphanage, tears streaking down my cheeks, covered in dirt from the blast. I could just make out Rosie’s voice