Page 47 of The Fix

They’d done it. Rex still found himself turning his head randomly to find the computer screen where he could check on the well-being of the little boy for whom they had desperately searched.

And he had to continue to remind himself that Cyrus was fine.

He was with Cami—his mother—and Rex’s role, such as it’d been, was done. He was no longer needed.

Which was good. It meant success. But it also meant saying goodbye to the partnership he’d formed with Cami, and damn, he missed having her by his side, even if he didn’t miss the circumstances under which she’d been there.

He was used to being debriefed after a mission. But this time, he supposed, he’d either have to forgo one, or give himself time to filter through all the emotions he’d held at bay while emotions had been impractical.

He’d gone to text her a hundred times that day but held himself back. She needed time with Cyrus. Time to get him settled, and time to get to know one another. That would be a long process, but these first days were important as far as establishing trust. He didn’t want to get in the way of that.

He’d called his mom and let her know he was back.

She hadn’t asked many questions and seemed distracted by something—probably one drama or another going on in her own life.

He was partly annoyed and partly grateful that he didn’t have to explain what had happened with Cami and Cyrus.

It would do him well to start thinking of the whole experience as another one of his jobs, one that he was proud of, but one that he’d eventually leave behind.

But not quite yet.

He sat at the kitchen table, where Cami had first asked for his help. He knew Cami was planning to visit Hollis in the coming days if possible. Maybe she’d already reached out to him via his campaign. Maybe they’d already spoken. He hated the way that idea caused his stomach to cramp.

He typed Hollis’s name in the browser, punching the keys more harshly than need be, and then clicked on what looked like his campaign website.

A close-up of Hollis’s face wasn’t exactly what he needed at that moment, but there it was all the same.

Rex already knew that if he had hoped that Hollis Barclay had peaked in high school, he’d be sorely disappointed.

Because he’d seen him on TV and a few billboards, too, in recent months.

Maybe the guy had even become a better version of himself.

He’d like to think so, especially considering he was seeking power by way of a political office, and because Cami was counting on it as she spoke of their son to him.

But Rex wasn’t there to look at pictures of Hollis or attempt to determine whether he’d matured, or even to wade through his various political platforms. He was there to hack into the website, and hopefully read his emails.

Specifically, he wanted to know if the message from Cyrus had been received and if there were any messages from Hollis to other parties directly afterward.

Hacking in was a breeze. There were virtually no safeguards, and anyone with a basic knowledge of coding could have breached the site. Evidently, whatever else Hollis was, he wasn’t worried about cybersecurity. At least not here.

He clicked from one page to the next, examining the metadata and moving through the site as though he were the administrator. There were a couple of blog posts that had been written but not yet posted, but neither was of much interest to him.

It took a little longer to get into the associated email, but that was relatively easy work too.

He’d hacked into the emails of foreign government officials.

In comparison, this was child’s play. Which likely meant Hollis didn’t keep anything here he didn’t want others to see. But it was still worth a try.

Rex went directly to the read emails and scrolled back to the weeks before Cyrus was kidnapped. Sure enough, there was an email from Cyrus Sanders from a school’s .edu address that had been opened and—presumably—read. He opened it, feeling a tug on his heart as he read it.

Hi,

My name is Cyrus and I’m your son. Sorry to spring this on you, but I am in a really bad place with a foster family who don’t treat me good and I hope you can help me. My birthday is April 18th and I’m eleven years old.

Sincerely, Cyrus Sanders

PS Please write me back here. I don’t have a cell phone and my foster parents will get very mad if you call them.

“Shit,” he muttered, that tug making him wince. He hadn’t only reached out to Hollis; he’d asked for help. Had Hollis read this and chosen to ignore it? How could anyone be that cold?

He rested his head in his palm for a moment before looking back up.

When he did, a reply email popped up under Cyrus’s original message as though he himself had accidentally hit the reply key.

But he hadn’t. His hands were nowhere near the keyboard.

Rex watched as a string of letters appeared in the subject line that made absolutely no sense.

What the hell?

His skin prickled. There was someone else in there with him. An administrator? But what kind of coincidence would it be if that person had the same weeks-old email open that he currently did?

He clicked off Cyrus’s email and went to the sent folder and scrolled back to the date Cyrus’s message had been sent. He didn’t see a reply but did a search for Cyrus’s school email address just to be sure. There was nothing, just as he’d thought. Hollis had never responded to the boy directly.

Rex wasn’t sure if his annoyance was because of his preconceived conception of Hollis Barclay’s personality or because he felt a deep connection to Cyrus after what they’d gone through together.

Analytically speaking, if Rex had come across an email like that one on a different case where he had no personal context for the people involved, would he also have bypassed the email and possibly considered it a prank?

Cyrus didn’t mention Cami’s name, so maybe a junior staffer had simply disregarded the email .

.. which wouldn’t have been completely unfounded.

Personal bias was never helpful when trying to see all angles.

He opened an email that had been sent in the hours after Cyrus’s, but it was nothing of any importance, just a question about signage.

But just as he was about to close that correspondence, again, a reply email popped up.

He brought his hands away and watched as, again, a string of numbers appeared in the subject line.

What the hell is happening? He’d never experienced anything like this.

He grabbed the pad and paper sitting near the edge of the table and wrote down the letters, which looked like random gibberish. Then he brought his head back slightly as the cursor jumped down to the body of the message and again, gibberish was displayed.

The same prickle skated under his skin. Was someone following him around the site?

Watching him through the inner workings of Hollis’s campaign communication?

What or who? If it was a who, they weren’t very good at it.

It almost seemed like a weird bug, maybe some partially installed security that wasn’t quite up to speed.

In any case, he needed to quietly exit this space. He wasn’t working on behalf of the NSA, and if anyone found out he was hacking into campaign websites illegally, he could get fired from his job or possibly arrested for election interference.

He backed out and covered his tracks and then shut down the computer. He’d gotten the information he’d gone there for. He now knew that Hollis or someone on his staff had opened Cyrus’s email and that if Hollis had answered at all, it hadn’t been from there.

He stood, feeling antsy and still troubled by the feeling that he’d been watched. Rex grabbed his sweatshirt and headed for the door. He had some information to share with Cami.

The nerves only fired up when he was at her door with his fist raised to knock. He heard the TV from inside and the soft sound of voices. And he felt like an interloper.

He stood there for a moment, indecision making him feel like the kid he’d once been. The one always standing on the outside looking in, afraid to make a move and risk being rejected.

He’d seen the police car parked across the street from Cami’s apartment. He didn’t even have the excuse that he was checking on her safety. The cops were readily available, should she need them.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he turned away. The news he had could very well be relayed on the phone, and he knew that. Behind him, the door opened. Startled, he turned to see Cami.

She smiled, so welcoming that he felt her expression wash over him from head to toe. “Hi,” she said.

“Hey.” He looked back at her door, noticing the small camera near the top corner and answering his own question about how she’d known he was there. “I was, ah, just checking in.” Behind her, he saw a pile of boxes sitting haphazardly against the wall.

She opened the door wider. “Do you like sushi?”

Sushi? “Yeah, sure.”

“Great. We picked it up to celebrate our matching DNA, and we have plenty. Cyrus is watching a show, but will you come join me?”