Page 64 of The Fix
“My mind went similar places at first, too, but again, the cops looked into all that and came up with zilch.”
Rex didn’t doubt they’d done their best. But even the finest departments only had a certain number of resources, and if he had to guess, he’d say they’d put the majority of those into hunting down the man who’d evaded capture. “Maybe if you spoke with your dad now, he might remember something he didn’t then? Especially if you bring up the words your mother said that now seem clearer. Perhaps those will spark a memory.”
She nodded, her brow still furrowed. “Yes, I want to tell him about Cyrus, too, of course. He’ll want to meet him.” She sounded slightly unsure of that, but maybe that was only because it would be a shock for her father to learn what she’d just been through over the past handful of days. It blew his mind that it hadn’t even been a week since she’d shown up at his door, harried and afraid.
And asking for his help.
“The other thing I’ve been thinking about is what Cyrus said about attempting to contact Hollis.”
Yeah, he’d been thinking about that too. According to Cyrus, Hollis hadn’t messaged him back, but Rex still had this itch under his skin every time he thought about it. The timing felt very suspicious. “Are you wondering if Hollis had something to do with Cyrus’s kidnapping?”
“I don’t know. I’d like to hope to God not. But ... I need to speak with him. I think he should know what his son has been through and that he’s with me now. He didn’t want anything to do with a child when he was eighteen, and I can’t imagine he would now either. But I’d still like to see his face when I tell him about the kidnapping.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“No. Thank you, Rex, but I have to do this alone. I thought Hollis Barclay was only a piece of my past.” She paused, her face somber. “But it seems we have unfinished business after all.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The Kiss family business thrived with Posey as the lead—and only—consultant. Matters that seemed too messy to fix were creatively settled by employing methods no one else had suggested. The need for disappearances decreased by 38 percent, dismemberments by nearly 60, and the business itself became much more stringent in how it selected its clientele. They charged more and boasted a 47 percent increase in their success rate, if success was judged by a lack of repeat customers.
Which, in their line of work, it most certainly was.
They dismissed two of their wet workers—hit men who did the close-up jobs—for lack of necessity and began vetting their other personnel in ways that ensured the operation was safer than it’d previously been. “Sixty-six percent of juvenile delinquents grow up without fathers,” Posey told her own father when they were considering an applicant.
“Your past shouldn’t define you, Posey, nor that which isn’t of your doing.”
“It should be factored in,” she insisted. “Trust in our employees is paramount.”
“Those who seek a position with us aren’t generally well adjusted,” her father reminded her.
“Exactly,” she said. “Any additional qualities that might heighten their potential for unreliability should be considered.”
He rubbed his chin. “We’ll factor it in then,” he said. “But it won’t be an immediate disqualification. Otherwise, we might never find anyone to work for us.”
“Likelihoods are based on more than one factor,” she agreed.
He regarded her again. “Sometimes, Posey, I think I should have insisted you get out more ... spend time with your peers. You’re only seventeen. Other girls your age—”
“I don’t like people my age. And they don’t like me.”
He sighed. “That’s my fault.”
“No, Father. It’s no one’s fault. I’m happy working with you and solving problems that are difficult to solve.”
“Yes, but Posey, all this, all this, oh ...” He sighed again. “There are good people in the world, too, Posey. People who don’t want to murder others.”
“I know, Father.”
“I’m not sure you do, Posey Pose. When your mother died, well, I should have perhaps ensured there were other more ... gentle influences in your life.” He glanced out the window, a worried frown on his lips. But then he regarded her, and his frown lifted into a small smile. “But, ah, you’re so young, and you have much life ahead of you. Time to live and learn and fall in love and to have children.”
Posey stared. Love seemed rather frivolous to Posey, and children were unacceptable creatures who made no sense to her at all. Thank goodness she’d never been one, at least not in the ways that made them ridiculous. She certainly didn’t want anything to do with them now.
“So much time,” her father repeated, his voice filled with wistfulness.
Her father, however, was not in possession of such.
Soon after, he called Posey and Anton into his office. Posey could tell right away that he was going to share bad news by the puckered look of his mouth and the way he gripped his hands together on his desk, knuckles white. Posey and Anton sat in the chairs before him, and he gave them a smile that appeared tired. Her father was rarely tired. Generally, he was bursting with energy.
