The fix a novel, p.21
The Fix: A Novel, page 21
Posey nudged her glasses higher on her pert nose and leaned in to see the computer on the desk in front of her, scanning the details in the file. Not all the relevant information was spelled out, but Posey knew the business well enough to read between the lines.
It was the reason the Kiss Operation couldn’t be trusted in just anyone’s hands. It was imperative that it remain in the family.
The case—for that’s what her father called them, his cases—featured a prominent, long-serving politician who was about to be exposed for docking his yacht in a neighboring state in order to save heftily on taxes.
Taxes that he’d imposed under a platform that championed the wealthy “paying their fair share.”
Except him, apparently.
It would be a disaster for the man. Any hopes of reelection would be obliterated.
The entire party would take a hit.
And it might all crumble to dust because of a single auditor who’d learned of his scheme and was threatening to expose it if the politician himself didn’t come clean and issue a public apology.
Posey skimmed the remainder of the auditor’s personal information. The naive man had no clue that his life was now in danger. Posey was certain of that because he’d made no efforts to protect himself. He hadn’t hired a bodyguard or bought a weapon, or opened a safe-deposit box where a copy of the politician’s paperwork might be kept in case of the auditor’s death. What a shortsighted man. He didn’t understand how the world worked, apparently, or at least the world of politics.
Posey knew, though, as did the Kiss family. They made much of it happen. They fixed undesirable situations. They cleaned up messes. They solved problems for people who had problems to solve. Sometimes they arranged retribution for those aggrieved and desiring revenge.
Posey retrieved the stack of that day’s newspapers from several major cities that her father had delivered to their home each morning and engaged in some brief research regarding current events. She made it a point to stay up to date on politics and culture so she could add elements to her equations should it become necessary. One article in particular about the senator’s home state caught her attention. “Perhaps there’s a cleaner way,” she suggested to her father.
“Cleaner than making the auditor disappear?”
“Mm.” She looked away, doing the math in her head, calculating odds and probabilities based on each potential scenario. Finally, she opened a map and pointed to a location up the coast from the politician’s home, a small fishing town with a per capita income far lower than the national average. “A major flood took place in the small town of Waltham Shores,” she said. “It appears an evacuation of the hospital is necessary due to damage and inaccessibility. However, the main road is still underwater, and so they’ve put the plan on hold temporarily. It’s a tenuous situation. The coast guard is buried with other rescues and has limited resources with which to help.”
Her father tapped his chin as he listened. “Go on.”
“My calculations suggest that rather than disappearing the auditor, a rescue, using the yacht as a means to evacuate the most critical patients, has a greater chance of long-term success.”
“Explain.”
“The auditor’s brother is a police detective in Portsmouth who is retiring next month. A twin brother.”
“Hmm. I see. If he goes missing, or his body is found, the brother is likely to look into it. Especially since he’ll soon have the time. They’re probably close, as twins tend to be. Perhaps his brother even mentioned the situation to him.”
“We might look at his phone records to determine that. However, the rescue leaves no loose ends.”
Loose ends were often a problem in the Kiss family business. A relative got too close to the truth, someone talked who wasn’t supposed to, human error of all types and magnitudes occurred during the commission of the operation. Then those loose ends would have to be tied up, and on and on.
Several loose ends could quickly unravel the entire fix.
They’d watched it happen before, even if their involvement was always obscured. Their clients understood that if things went south, they, and only they, would take the fall. The Kiss family made certain of that.
“How does the rescue solve the problem of the tax avoidance?”
“It doesn’t directly. However, a news tip-off will bring cameras, which would in turn garner attention. It’s a feel-good story. Humans of all demographics respond well to heroic acts. It would most likely go national. We could ensure that it does.”
“A donation to build a new hospital wouldn’t hurt,” her father suggested.
Posey did some quick adjustments to the calculations in her head. “No, the odds improve with that variable.”
“When you say improve . . .”
“I mean the acclaim will all but negate the scandal. Per my calculations.”
Her father sat back, his lips tipping minutely. “Creative.”
Posey’s brow wrinkled. There was nothing “creative” about what she did, at least to her mind. However, “disappearing” someone, meaning killing them and disposing of their body in any number of ways, was often far messier than alternative approaches. And more risky.
Wasn’t their business about improving odds for their clients?
It wasn’t that Posey was particularly averse to the disappearances of those who entangled themselves in situations with predictably poor outcomes. It was simply that there were often far more prudent ways in which to handle many of the cases that ended in violence and death.
And again, loose ends.
“I’ll present it and let the client decide,” her father said.
“Time is of the essence,” Posey reminded him.
“Of course. I’ll make the call momentarily.” He paused, giving her a smile. “Most people are averse to being responsible for the death of others. I’m sure he’ll at least appreciate an array of choices.”
Posey smiled.
“You’ll run this operation someday, Posey. How do you feel about that?”
“I feel equipped.”
Her father chuckled. “Indeed. Even more equipped than me, perhaps.”
Her frown returned. “Anton won’t be pleased.” Her brother, Anton, expected to take over the family business. As the only boy, he thought it was his right. He believed Posey was a freak. Worthless and plain weird. And he never missed an opportunity to say as much.
Maybe she was. But regardless, she couldn’t be anyone else.
Her father sighed. “Nothing will please Anton. Anton isn’t the type to ever be satisfied with anything. He’s my son but he’s . . . too rash and self-involved to successfully run a business like ours. No, Posey. You are my choice. You will be my legacy. Now, please excuse me while I make this call.”
“Yes, Father.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Rex handed Cami a cup of coffee, and she gave him a grateful smile. “You okay?” he mouthed, and she gave him a small nod.
The police had arrived directly after his call, and they’d been questioning them for an hour now. Cami looked tired but intent on doing all she could to help the authorities untangle what had happened and how Cyrus Sanders had ended up in a locked room in a rental cabin in the woods.
And why no one had reported him missing in four days.
When Rex had first called, two squad cars had arrived, quickly joined by more as he told the story of how he and Cami had come to be in Big Sur. Then a couple of detectives arrived, and they’d separated him and Cami as they questioned them and sent officers out to the cabin. As far as Rex knew, the authorities were currently attempting to trace who the property belonged to and how they could be contacted for questioning.
The police insisted on taking Cyrus to the hospital to be thoroughly evaluated, and though it was obvious Cami struggled with allowing the child out of her sight, a female officer volunteered to go with him and stay by his side. Cami had relented, though she likely knew it wasn’t really up to her anyway.
Cami took a sip of the hot liquid, and Detective Mauro, a gruff-looking man who was surprisingly soft spoken, glanced down at his phone when a text came in. “No luck with that room,” he told them, obviously referring to the virtual room on the dark web where the video of Cyrus had been. Rex had known that would be the case. It was the whole point of the dark web—you could put up and take down whatever you wanted, and it couldn’t be traced back to you or recovered.
“Tell me again about the person on the phone,” the detective said to Cami. Rex sat down next to her. They’d gone over this, but he knew that it was just protocol. They wanted to make sure her story didn’t change and she hadn’t forgotten anything.
Cami sighed but didn’t argue. She obviously understood their strategy too. “I’m almost certain it was a female, and her voice was altered to sound like one of those windup dolls. High pitched and sped up.” She pressed her lips together and looked off to the side, obviously thinking. “There is one thing that I forgot to mention. I heard this . . . I don’t know, it was like a wheezy sound in the background. I remember picturing Darth Vader on the line. That exaggerated breathing, like through a mask.” She shook her head. “I know that doesn’t make sense, but . . .”
“Not now,” Detective Mauro said as he jotted in his notepad. “But again, every small detail matters. And that might help us at some point.”
Cami fiddled with a thread on the couch cushion. The younger detective by the name of Graf, who’d been there earlier, came back in the house and sat next to his coworker. “I talked to my captain,” he said, and Cami met his eyes. “We could charge you, you know. With not reporting a kidnapping.”
“Not under California law,” Rex said. He’d looked this topic up as Cami had slept on his shoulder on the airplane. “If you’re not the legal parent of the child, you’re not obligated to do anything.” And even if Cami was Cyrus’s biological mother, she currently had no parental rights in the eyes of the law.
Cami turned a widened gaze on him, obviously astonished at California’s lax laws regarding compelling the reporting of crimes against minors. But in this case, it was to their benefit.
“This started in Virginia,” Detective Mauro said.
“It doesn’t seem like the best use of resources, considering the crime,” Rex said. “And also, Cami was warned not to go to the authorities. She obviously approached this wisely. Cyrus Sanders is alive and well, thanks to her.”
“And you,” Cami said, reaching her hand out and taking his for a moment before letting go.
“You,” Detective Graf repeated, “caused a man to fall off a cliff to his death.”
“Cyrus’s life was in imminent danger,” Rex said. “And so was mine. That man had a loaded weapon, and I did not. He’d already fired many shots.”
“That’s what the kid says too.” The detective sat back in his chair. “And the shell casings back up your story. A team has already recovered the body and the weapon.” He paused, his eyes focused on Cami. “As far as the kid being okay despite you not contacting the police immediately, I don’t work on an ‘end justifies the means’ basis. This could have turned tragic at any moment.”
“I’d say it already has,” Rex said. It pissed him off that they were treating her like a criminal when she’d been wringing her hands and bending over backward since her phone first dinged and she learned that a boy was in trouble. “So instead of lecturing us, maybe find who scooped a kid up and put him behind bars. Find out who his deadbeat foster parents are and charge them.”
Detective Graf’s lips thinned, but neither he nor Detective Mauro seemed like unreasonable guys to Rex. They’d allowed them to remain in the house as they were questioned instead of dragging them to the police station, where they’d sit in a cold room under bright lights. Rex’s assumption about the detectives’ decency was further confirmed when the men glanced at each other and then Detective Graf sighed and turned back to Cami. “We could charge you, but we’re not going to. You called us the moment Cyrus was safe, and you’ve cooperated. Also, I looked you up. I’d heard about the crime committed against your family when it happened. A real tragedy. I’m sorry for what you experienced.”
“Thank you,” Cami said.
“Could the person who sent you the video have known about your past escape and banked on you being clever enough to find Cyrus?” Detective Mauro asked.
Cami appeared to think about the question. “Maybe. But your question supposes I was chosen solely because of the crime I experienced. It can’t be a coincidence that he’s my son.”
“That still hasn’t been confirmed.” One of the paramedics who’d driven Cyrus to the hospital had also taken a vial of blood from her. The detectives had informed Cami the results would be back in three or four days. But it was clear that Cami didn’t need a blood test to confirm the boy was hers. Rex tended to agree. Cyrus had resembled her on-screen. In person, it was even more striking. He even had some of her same expressions, which was sort of wild considering they’d never met.
“I know.”
“Also,” Rex said, “that would be assuming the motivation of the person who sent Cami the video was to rescue the kid. If that was the case, why not send the video directly to the cops? Why not rescue him themselves?”
The four of them sat there for a moment, the detectives jotting into the pads as Cami met Rex’s eyes. She gave him a small smile that spoke of her ability to remain strong. She obviously wasn’t a woman who easily crumbled in the face of stress. He’d known that, of course, but he was glad as hell to see her fighting spirit hadn’t dimmed.
A cop came in and gestured Detective Mauro over, and the older detective stood while the younger stayed with them. Cami sipped her coffee, and after a minute, the detective returned. “His foster parents have been located.”
“What’d they say?” Cami asked.
“They’re saying they thought he was at a friend’s house, but there are holes in that story. It looks more like they either didn’t notice or didn’t care. They have six other kids living with them, potentially for the checks they’re bringing in, but I don’t want to assume too much.”
Rex blew out a slow breath, tamping his anger down. These were the sorts who were chosen to care for the most vulnerable, and often emotionally damaged, children in society? Cyrus’s words came back to him, the ones they’d heard as he’d spoken to the man who brought him food: I live with a foster family who doesn’t even like me. They definitely won’t give you money. They’re probably glad I’m gone. He’d had it right, and damn but that was sad as hell, especially after he’d already lost so much. “Any information on what happened to his adoptive parents?” Rex asked.
“Only what Cyrus told us,” Detective Mauro said. “That they died in a car accident. We’re having the accident report pulled now. No family member stepped up to take him, and so he went into the system.”
“When can I see him?” Cami asked.
“During visiting hours tomorrow morning,” Detective Mauro said. “He should be released in the afternoon.”
“And then?” Cami asked, and Rex saw the way she stilled. “He can’t return to the foster parents who didn’t notice he was gone for four days. In fact, I hope those people go to prison. Can I take him back to Virginia with me?”
“He’s still in the system,” the older detective said. “Another family will have to be found.”
Cami shook her head. “That’s madness. I’m his biological mother, and I’m willing to take him to live with me.”
The detectives glanced at each other, and then Detective Mauro cocked his head and leaned back in his chair, obviously considering something. “I might know someone I can talk to. But only after it’s confirmed that no family or friends want to take him in. I’m assuming not, since they allowed him to go into foster care the first time, but it’ll need to be checked into anyway.” He paused, considering Cami. Rex was encouraged by the sympathetic look in his eyes. “This is a highly unusual situation. And there’s the issue of multiple state laws being involved.”
“Anything you can do,” Rex said. “It would be very much appreciated.”
The detective nodded, and then both men stood. “We’ll plan to be at the hospital tomorrow, too, just to be sure Cyrus isn’t still a target, and we might have a few further questions.”
“Okay,” Cami said. “Thank you.”
They said goodbye to the detectives and the few officers who were still milling around outside, and then Rex closed the door and turned to Cami.
She looked dead on her feet, but her face also held a tired sense of wonder. They stood there for a moment, their eyes locked, before they both stepped toward each other simultaneously, and Cami fell into his arms.
“We did it,” she breathed. “We did it, Rex. Against so many odds. My God.”
He held her, taking all her weight as she wrapped her arms around him so tightly, as if he were the only thing on earth solid enough for her to hang on to. He luxuriated in the feeling. He was honored by it. He liked the sound of we far too much. It scared him too. He couldn’t forget what it felt like to be hurt by her.
Rex let go, and her arms dropped too. She still looked tired and now partly confused. Her gaze ran over his features one by one, halting on his mouth. His body stirred. God, he liked that look. “You dropped everything to help me,” she said. “To help us.”
“I didn’t do it alone. I had help.”
“You would have done it alone. You would have tried.”
He smiled, squinted off toward the stairs. He felt embarrassed and pleased by the look of adoration in her eyes. Yeah. Yeah, he would have. He would have tried anything and everything to bring her son home to her.
“You were shot at. You could have been killed.”
“I wasn’t. I knew what I was doing.” He’d had the upper hand when he’d caused the distraction in the trees. He’d had cover while the man with the gun did not. He’d thought he could get him to expend all his ammunition, and he had.
He just hadn’t banked on the guy having extra in his pocket.
