Chapter 4 - The Search for the Boy
By three o'clock that afternoon, Charles Blackwood had been escorted from the Prudential Center by corporate security, his career in Boston financial circles completely annihilated. Rebecca had fled to her car through the basement garage, ducking her head to avoid her own conscience.
William did not stay to celebrate his victory.
He took his private elevator straight to the garage, got into his dark blue Bentley, and drove straight back to Beacon Hill.
The storm had passed, leaving Boston blanketed in a brilliant, blinding layer of fresh white snow under a clear blue sky.
William parked his car on Third Street, stepping out into the freezing air. He walked quickly toward Saint Jude’s Chapel, his coat unbuttoned, his heart hammering against his ribs with a desperate urgency he hadn't felt in years.
He pushed open the heavy oak chapel doors.
The sanctuary was quiet. The smell of incense and tallow still hung in the cold air.
Near the altar, Father Thomas was placing fresh white candles into silver holders.
William walked rapidly down the central aisle. "Father!"
The old priest turned, resting his hand on his silver snuffer, looking at the wealthy man with mild surprise. "May I help you, my son?"
"The boy," William said breathlessly. "The little boy who sweeps your steps. The one in the red hoodie with the big boots. What is his name? Where does he live?"
Father Thomas’s expression softened into a gentle, sad smile. "You mean Toby?"
"Yes! Toby!" William said, stepping closer. "Where is he, Father? I need to find him."
Father Thomas sighed, setting his snuffer down on a wooden bench. "Toby comes here most afternoons. But I'm afraid he won't be sweeping today, Mr. Callaway."
William’s stomach plummeted. "Why? Did something happen to him?"
"Toby lives with his uncle, Marcus Miller, over on Crane Street," Father Thomas explained quietly. "Marcus is... a troubled man. He works at the docks when he is sober, which is not often. This morning, city social services and two police officers visited their tenement. They are preparing to remove Toby from the home and place him in a state emergency shelter by five o'clock today."
William felt a cold shock hit his bloodstream. "A shelter? Why?"
"Marcus hasn't paid rent in four months," Father Thomas said softly. "The building has been condemned by the city. Toby has no other family. His mother passed away three years ago."
William didn't wait to hear another word.
"Where on Crane Street?" William asked sharply.
"Number 114," Father Thomas replied. "The red brick building at the end of the alley. But Mr. Callaway... the police are already there."
May you like
William reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his car keys, and turned on his heel.
"Not for long," William said.
