“But this is probably one of the reasons he has two birth certificates,” Jace continues, balancing the butterfly knife on the knuckles of his left hand while he types something with his right one. “His mother was eighteen when Damon was born, and his father is currently sixty-two.” He shoots me a grim look. “Which means his father knocked up his mother when she was seventeen and he was thirty-nine.”
I press my lips together and let that sink in. That age difference isn’t just disgusting, it’s also illegal. No wonder his dad didn’t officially claim him when he was born.
“And you said the new birth certificate was issued when he was eleven?” I ask.
Jace nods and snaps his butterfly knife closed with a loudclick.
Damon told me his mom died when he was eleven. That can’t be a coincidence.
“What did you find out about his mom?” I ask, keeping that little truth nugget to myself. I’d be hard-pressed to explain to my cousin how I know that about Damon when I’m not supposed to know anything about him.
Jace puts his butterfly knife back on his desk and types something into his keyboard. A photo of a young woman with dark hair and a gorgeous smile appears on his monitor.
I lean in to take a closer look. She’s breathtakingly beautiful, and the photo looks like it’s from a professional shoot. I can’t tell exactly how old she is in the picture, but she looks to be in her late teens, maybe her early twenties.
The other thing I can’t help noticing is the uncanny resemblance between Damon and his mother, and how he pretty much looks like a masculine version of her. They have the same dark, nearly black hair, but while his is thick with curls, hers is straight in the photo, the thick, glossy locks falling nearly to her waist. They also have the same bright blue eyes framed by thick lashes and nearly identical dark eyebrows. Even their bone structure is eerily alike, only her features are more feminine and softer than his angular ones.
“She was a model,” Jace continues, tapping a few keys to bring up another photo, this one a snapshot of her in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of leggings with her hair piled on the top of her head in a messy bun. In the photo she’s holding a toddler with Damon’s coloring on her hip while they smile for the camera. “She went by the name Emily Madison when she was working, and it looks like she had a relatively successful career doing print and some media. She definitely wasn’t a household name or anything, but she had steady work right up until about a year before she died.”
He taps another key, and more photos of Damon’s mom filter across the screen one after the other. Most are professionalshots, but some are candid ones of her and Damon at various ages that were obviously taken by a family member or friend.
I watch the photos carefully, taking in every detail, and I can’t help noticing how happy Damon looked when he was a kid. In every photo, he has a big, beaming smile that’s as bright as his mom’s. It’s a far cry from the sardonic emo guy I’ve shared a campus with for the past three and a half years.
“She died of an overdose when he was eleven,” Jace says when his makeshift slideshow ends. “I’ll need to do more digging to see how he ended up living with his dad and changing his name, but I’ll bet Jax’s life that it has something to do with his second birth certificate.”
“I’m sure Jax is ecstatic that you always offerhislife as a sacrifice when you’re positive about something.” I shoot him a smirk-smile.
The corners of his mouth tip up in a dark grin. “I’d argue that putting up my stash of spare body parts is pretty much the same as offering my own life.”
I huff out a laugh and flick my gaze back at the screens in front of us. “Does he have a stepdad or any siblings?” I ask, circling back to the job at hand.
“Not on his mom’s side. She never married, and it looks like he was her only kid. But he has a stepmother and three half siblings on his dad’s side.”
I nod. I know he has half-sisters, but I can’t exactly tell Jace that.
He taps a key, and two photos load on the screen in front of us. One is of a gorgeous blonde woman who looks to be in her early thirties, and the other is the same woman, only a few years younger, with three blonde girls who are probably between the ages of two and ten. All four are wearing matching flowing white dresses with identical pink flower barrettes in their hair.
“His dad has a type,” Jace says wryly. “His stepmom was a model too, but at least she was of age when they went public with their relationship.”
“How old was she?”
“According to the gossip rags, she was eighteen and he was forty-five when they started dating, and they got hitched when she was twenty. And just to add a little extra ick to the situation, his oldest half-sister was born six months after the wedding.”
I grimace. “What do you think the odds are that they got together when she was still underage?”
Jace snort-laughs, but there’s no humor behind it. “One hundred percent. You don’t announce your relationship a week after someone turns eighteen if you aren’t waiting for it to happen.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking too.” I lean back in my chair and rake my hand through my hair distractedly. “Can you keep digging and see what else you can learn?”
“Sure can.” He tosses me a grin. “And the world thanks you for giving me a task because I was getting restless, and we both know what happens when I get restless.”
I chuckle. “Thank fuck for small favors, because I don’t think Silvercrest is ready for restless Jace.”
He blows another bubble and pops it loudly. “They definitely aren’t.”
“Can you bring up the school security cams?”
“Obviously,” Jace says, typing away on his keyboard. “What am I looking for?” he asks as several camera feeds appear on his screens.
