Page 13 of The Fix

Rex had absolutely no interest in memorizing the poetry of English poets of the Romantic era.

And by the groans traveling around the room, neither did any of his classmates.

He glanced over at the empty seat on the far left of the room, his stomach twisting at the knowledge of why its usual occupant was currently missing.

It’d been four days since he’d seen Cami Cortlandt in that hospital hallway, beaten and broken, her eyes emotionally vacant, and all he’d heard were the whispers of his peers and the information the news was sharing.

The media had descended on their small town. Just the day before, he’d thought he’d seen a van with the Dateline logo drive by.

The man who’d gotten away, the one only known as “AJ,” had thus far continued to evade capture.

A car had evidently been left in the Cortlandt garage, but he’d heard it had come back stolen.

The other assailant, who was found dead at the scene, hadn’t yet been identified, though apparently both had left DNA evidence behind that was currently being tested.

DNA evidence. The phrase made him cringe.

He was pretty sure he could figure from where that DNA evidence had been collected.

He massaged his neck. It was difficult to even consider the horror that family had experienced.

And he couldn’t stop seeing Cami’s battered face.

The entire community was struggling, and police were working overtime to come up with answers that would assure the citizens of their town that they need not fear something as horrific happening to one of them.

And here they were reading Romantic poetry.

Not that the school hadn’t done what it could to support the students.

They’d brought in extra counselors and, the night before, had held a candlelight vigil for Farrah and Eleanor Cortlandt.

They’d started a GoFundMe for Cami and her father, which seemed unnecessary considering they were already rich, but he supposed it would help with medical bills, or maybe they’d use it to do something in honor of those they’d lost. Mostly, he thought, it was being done so people had a way to show their support and sorrow.

Mr. Cortlandt was still in the hospital, where he was healing from his injuries, but where Cami was, or who she was staying with, he didn’t know.

He wanted to ask Hollis about her, but he didn’t think that was a good idea. And the guy might not even know anyway if he was still “giving her time.”

Rex grieved for her, but it was all he could do.

He hadn’t really been in her circle of friends, and they’d only ever had one conversation.

It wouldn’t be appropriate to reach out to her.

And so, Rex had gone to the GoFundMe and donated fifty bucks that would have been better spent on groceries for him and his mom.

The gesture was nowhere close to what he’d communicate to Cami if he could, and he felt almost pitiful doing it, but it was better than nothing.

He massaged his head. Or maybe it wasn’t. He didn’t even know.

A knock on the classroom door made him raise his head, and the class watched as the principal, Mr. Garvey, leaned inside, two police officers behind him.

Their teacher, Mrs. Sachs, approached the door, and she and the principal spoke in whispered voices for a moment before she looked back.

Her eyes met Rex’s and she gestured to him as anxiety buzzed under his skin.

Rex stood and began to walk toward the door after the principal said, “Gather your things, please.”

The anxiety increased. He picked up his notepad and pen, dropping the pad on the floor to a small chorus of muffled laughter.

He scooped up both things and stuffed them in his backpack.

Rex heard the hum of conversation as he made his way up the row and walked toward the door.

His face felt hot, the weight of the stares causing his limbs to feel stiff and uncoordinated.

They all stepped out into the hallway and moved away from the door. “These officers have some questions for you, Rex.”

He looked back and forth between Mr. Garvey and the officers. “O-okay. What about?”

“You’re a person of interest in the Cortlandt murders,” one of the officers said, watching him closely. Rex’s face now felt hot, leaving him momentarily dizzy.

“What? You must have the wrong—”

“Maybe we can clear this up. We have some questions, if you’ll accompany us to the station.”

His head was reeling, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he was going to faint. What is happening?

Behind him, he heard the soft gasps and murmurs from the classroom, where he could now see the door had drifted slightly open. He wanted to bolt. He wanted to sink into the floor. “O-okay.”

“Come with us.” The officer who’d spoken nodded at Mr. Garvey and Mrs. Sachs, whose lips were set in a thin, worried line. “Thank you. We’ll take it from here.”

He walked with the officers on wooden legs, down the hall and toward the parking lot, trying desperately to get his brain to work. “Should I ... should I request a lawyer?” he asked as they exited the building.

“Only if you have something to hide,” the redheaded officer said as he opened the back door of the cruiser parked at the front of the building.

“No, I don’t have anything to hide. This is a mistake.”

“Then let’s clear it up.” Rex slid into the back seat. He felt manipulated. These officers just wanted to get him to the station. They wanted him to answer questions without an attorney. But his mom couldn’t afford an attorney anyway. They were barely making ends meet.

As the cruiser pulled away from the school, he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Think straight. Cami would tell them it wasn’t him. She’d been there. She’d known Rex for years. They’d spoken just a few hours before she was attacked. She knew the truth.

Rex had no idea what this was about, but the reminder that Cami would vouch for him made his breath come a little bit easier.

The room at the precinct was overly bright and too cold. His mom, who had arrived a few minutes before by his request, smelled like vodka and looked like she’d just pulled herself out of bed because she had.

An older man in a pair of suit pants and a button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, came in.

“Rex Lowe? I’m Detective Smith. Thank you for being here.

It goes a long way that you’re answering questions willingly.

” He sat down at the table across from them and reached his hand out to Rex and then shook his mother’s hand too. “Mrs. Lowe.”

“What do you have on my boy? Cough it up or let us leave.”

He gave her an impatient smile. “We’ll get you out of here just as soon as possible, I promise.” He looked at Rex. “Your given name is Alexander John, is that correct? Rex is a nickname?”

“Yeah. Yes. But everyone calls me Rex, even my mom.” It’d been his nickname since he was a toddler, when a cousin of his who couldn’t pronounce Alex or Alexander had called him Rex, and it’d stuck. Even in his own mind, he referred to himself by the nickname and—

AJ.

Was he being questioned because he had the same initials as the man who’d escaped? He felt a breath of relief wash through him. Was that all it was?

“Where were you four nights ago, on Friday?” he asked.

“Home.”

The detective glanced up at him from the form he’d begun to fill out. “Alone?”

“Yeah. My mom was out.”

“What time did you get home, Mrs. Lowe?”

“Midnight. Thereabouts.”

“Was your son up when you got home?”

“Sure. Yeah. He was.”

“Really? You can swear on that? Because we have witnesses that say you were quite inebriated at Jimmy Jo’s Beer Shack that night.

Someone described it as ‘blackout drunk’ and said you didn’t leave until after two and were carried out by a loan shark by the name of Gary Shipley, who we haven’t yet managed to contact. ”

His mom let out a disparaging sound as Rex’s heart sank. Why had she lied? “He told me he was a financier,” she murmured. “But all that blackout stuff’s a lie. Rex was wide awake when I got home.”

“You’d swear to that?”

“Course I would.” She took his hand under the table and squeezed it.

The detective checked something on his form. “Witnesses said they saw you out running the morning of the manhunt, and then other witnesses reported you at the hospital later, attempting to speak to Camille Cortlandt. There’s news footage of you in the lobby.”

Rex swallowed and shook his head. “That’s all ... I mean, that’s just a coincidence.”

“You a regular jogger, son?”

“No. It was the first day. I mean, I’d just decided to take it up. Jogging. That was my first day.” God, he sounded like a liar, even to himself.

“Uh-huh. And why did this jog of yours end at the same hospital where Ms. Cortlandt was being treated?”

Again, he swallowed. His mouth was so damn dry. It felt like he was gulping dust. “I just ... I saw the police cars, and I was ... worried.”

“Worried about what?”

“About what might have happened to ... I thought there was a chance it was someone I knew.” He wanted to cringe. This all sounded so bad. When he said it out loud, it made him seem strange and ... guilty.

The detective was studying him. “You’ve got a crush on Camille Cortlandt, huh? Had it for years?”

“What?” The word sounded as parched as he felt.

The detective smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

Who had told this man he had a crush on Cami?

He’d told no one. Was it that obvious? He wanted to sink into the floor again.

And he had the strange urge to cry when he didn’t think he’d cried since he was a kid.

“She’s a beautiful girl. I can’t blame you. ”

His mom hit the table with her palm, the slap causing both him and the detective to jump slightly. “I think we’re done here,” she said. “Unless you’re going to arrest my son, this interview is over.”

The detective’s lips thinned, eyes sliding back to Rex. “Would you be willing to take a DNA test?”

DNA would absolve him of this. If they did in fact have DNA, it wouldn’t match his. “Of course.”

“Rexy,” his mom said. “You don’t have to give them nothin’ unless they’ve got a warrant. I watch Law & Order . I know how things work.”

He let go of her hand. “It’s okay, Mom. I want to put this to rest. I want to give my DNA.”

“Great.” The detective stood. “I’ll send someone in to do the swab. It only takes a minute.” He gave them a phony smile. “Thank you again for your time. I’ll be in touch.”

He left the room, and his mom stood and paced for a second. “These bastards. They’re only doing this because of where we live and who we are. I oughta sue the pants off them. Harassment. That’s what it is. I need a smoke. Are you okay in here for a few?”

He ran a hand through his hair, and it flopped back onto his forehead. “Yeah, sure, Mom. I’m fine.”

She hesitated, her brow dipping. “It’s going to be okay. Everything’ll be fine.”

He nodded and then she turned, leaving him alone in the cold room. He stood, needing to pace the way she just had, his emotions all over the place.

Mostly, he couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt surreal. He wanted to scream from the rooftops: I did not do this! I would never do something so evil. How could any of you think I would? I’ve lived here all my life. You know me!

But they didn’t. No one knew him. No one had ever really tried.

Rex’s head came up, and he halted when he heard a voice coming from somewhere just down the hallway. It sounded familiar. He knew it well. He’d been hanging on her every word for years. Cami? She was here ?

Rex rushed to the door that was open just a crack and stood on the other side of it.

The voices were coming from a short distance away, the acoustics making them echo enough that he could hear them from where he stood, even if only barely.

He opened the door just a little bit more and leaned his head forward as much as he dared.

He heard a man’s voice, catching snippets. “Name AJ ... black hair ... didn’t see his face. Could it ... Rex Lowe. Alexander ...”

He held his breath as he waited for her answer to what was an obvious question. And when it came, it devastated him. Her voice was low, emotionless. “Yeah, I guess ... it could have been him. Rex Lowe.”