Page 26 of Code Violation

Forrest shrugged. “It doesn’t, I guess. But I want to hear the whole story.”

“Okay. A few years ago, a forensic anthropologist friend of mine, Lindsay Horton, and I helped out on a Doe case in Florida. It was our first success. That’s the one Tim Dennis was talking about the other day at the pub. All the police had was a femur that had been stored in a freezer since 1988 and where it had been found by some schoolgirls. It took over a year and an incredible amount of legwork, interviews, and eventually DNA testing that led to a positive family match. But we were finally able to give their siblings closure. In the back of my head, I’m hoping someday to find my cousin. But even if I don’t, I get to help other families lay their relatives to rest. I ran across a news story about the bones recently found around here. I want to know if they could be Donny’s and if they aren’t, I’d like to find out who they belong to.”

Cooper frowned. “But seriously, why a podcast? Seems grim.”

“I get that question a lot,” Nero responded, smiling. “I think you’d be surprised how many people are fascinated by true crime. Crime podcasting isn’t without issues, of course. Poorly done, it can be exploitative, sensationalist and—most disgusting of all—create celebrities out of killers. But on the whole, I think the good outweighs the bad, especially when justice is served. And who knows? Maybe I can make a living at it.”

So many families kept their lives on hold while they waited for a loved one to walk through the door. Nero’s aunt had been waiting for her baby boy to come home for almost twenty-five years.

“I guess that’s not really surprising if what’s on TV is anything to go by.” Forrest’s tone was trending back toward thoughtful instead of belligerent.

Suddenly it felt very important for Nero to convince Forrest Cooper that what he did was important. One victim, one Doe, at a time, he was making a difference. This was his chance to make his case.

“That’s true. But what we see on TV is the tiniest fraction of cases involving missing persons. And don’t get me started on all the fictional bullshit. The most recent estimates conclude that there are around eighty thousand missing persons on record and forty thousand Doe files in the US. Those numbers are since data began being collected, of course.”

Watching Forrest’s profile, Nero saw the other man purse his lips and let himself remember how they’d felt on his cock.

“Of course,” Forrest repeated. “And probably some of the missing are the unidentified, right? So there’s overlap. But there are tons of people who are never reported missing because they’re estranged from their family, ran away, or”—he waved a hand—“whatever. You said you’re a reporter too.”

“Investigative reporter, yeah. Well, I was an investigative journalist. Got laid off in the last round of budget cuts.” Nero tried not to sound bitter about it, but he was. He’d loved his job, even when his bosses had driven him crazy. “I didn’t come up with this, but some folks call the unreported the un-missing. It kind of gives me the creeps to think about.”

Forrest didn’t respond right away and Nero wanted to know what he was contemplating. The man seemed like the kind of person who took their time deciding things—when they were important anyway. Otherwise, Forrest was most likely the King of Shooting His Mouth Off.

“You help figure out what happened to Ned,” Forrest finally said, “and I’ll give you that interview you want. You can ask me anything you can think of.”

“I’m a reporter, not a trained investigator. I’ve helped identify people, but I’ve never been involved in something current.”

“Tomato, Tomahtoe. You have experience investigating things. I want Ned’s murder solved. Seems to reason.”

“Seems to reason?” Nero’s voice rose. “What about the police? Don’t you think they’ll be mad if I butt in?”

He’d already been planning on poking around, but there was no reason to tell Forrest that.

“If we butt in, as in you and me together, because I’m going to be in your pocket. I can get you in to talk to people who might not want to otherwise. And this way I can keep my eye on you. Ned Barker doesn’t need his personal life dissected on a podcast. Besides, Cooper Springs PD is shorthanded at the moment. Dear may not approve of us asking around, but he and Lani aren’t superheroes.”

“I don’t think you’d fit in my pocket,” Nero snarked. He decided to ignore the part about Forrest keeping his eye on Nero. Trust was still clearly going to be an issue, and he wanted to learn Forrest’s story; from what little he knew, Nero had a feeling it would be interesting. But he’d do this side quest first if that was what needed to happen.

“Is that a yes, a no, or a maybe?” Forrest asked. “Should we try and see what’ll fit in your pocket?” He waggled his hips, drawing Nero’s attention to his cock and making him snort.

Was Nero horny and hoping for more, or was he out of his mind to even consider agreeing to this proposition? Eyeing Forrest, Nero couldn’t decide which it was. Forrest eyed him back and very deliberately ran his tongue across the lips that Nero had stolen a glance at earlier.

Both. Absolutely both.

The temperature in the cabin was suddenly stifling. Again. It was stifling again.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Cooper announced.

Nero rolled over and sat up. “Right there. Not hard to find.”

He rose to his feet, stretched—giving Nero a nice view—and glanced around the cabin again. Then he froze with his arms over his head.

“Where did you get that?” Forrest asked.

It took Nero’s brain a couple of seconds to get back online. “Get what?”

Leaning across Nero, Forrest plucked the grass hoop that he’d left on the breakfast bar.

“This.”

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