Page 38 of Code Violation

“Let’s find what she has to say. Maybe we can add to what you know. We should also reach out to Ollie Cox if you think he’ll be up for it. It’s possible the two groups, dead teens and folks living in the woods, could have nothing to do with each other. But the remains were found fairly far along Crook’s Trail. Do you happen to know how close to where you had lived?” He tapped the paper with his pen. “Not that I want to just paint a reclusive group of people with the murder brush.”

“I stay the fuck away from those woods if at all possible. But from what Critter and Mags have said, both sets of remains were found off known trails. I don’t recall trails other than the ones we made where we lived.”

Nero stared at Forrest, but he wasn’t seeing him.

“Could any of them still be up there? Or, alternatively, is it possible that one or more of the group returned to town at some point? Would anyone have necessarily recognized them? Logically, they’re all dead or have moved out of the area, but maybe not.” He shrugged. “If we can cross any of them off the list, it will help. We need to find out all the names of those involved.”

Forrest was having trouble breathing. Nero had just jammed his finger into the source of Forrest’s greatest fear. Ever since the first remains had been found and Blair Cruz had gone missing, he’d become terrified that Witt and Dina were up there. Still alive. He hated that his memories were incomplete. Worried that the reason he had nightmares was because he’d witnessed something no young boy should.

“How much of all this does your sister know? Does she have similar suspicions?”

“I don’t think so,” Forrest said after thinking for a second. “She was so small and, surprise to you, I’m sure, I don’t like to talk about it.”

Nero smirked and rolled his eyes. “You brew us some coffee and call Kit Blinker. I’ll get on my murder map.”

FOURTEEN

Nero – Saturday

Mumbling quietly about caffeine addicts but working quickly, Forrest got the coffee machine going before disappearing into the other room for a few minutes. Nero heard the murmur of Forrest’s voice but couldn’t make out if he was on the phone or talking to himself. It was kind of cute that he talked to himself, but Nero wasn’t going to comment. He mumbled too.

Forrest was worried about what they might find; that much was clear.

“I had to leave a message for Kit to call me back,” Forrest said when he returned to the kitchen. “I told her it was important. Hopefully, Chief Dear or someone from the police already talked to her.”

Forrest poured them both coffee and then tried to pretend he wasn’t lurking around trying to see what Nero was doing. Nero wasn’t fooled at all. While Forrest had been on the phone, Nero had hopped onto his laptop, planning to see if there was more information online about the Coopers or the off-the-grid group. He wondered if Witt and Dina had been preppers too. If so, that gave even more credence to the possibility of them still being alive up there.

“If you keep hovering over my shoulder, I’m going back to my cabin. Track Rufus down. Maybe he knows the other names,” Nero ordered.

“Maybe my grandpa did,” Forrest remarked, moving away to lean in a distractingly sexy way against the counter. “He always kept a diary. I read a couple after he passed away, but most of the entries were centered around ‘I don’t know if Forrest will live to be twenty-five’ kind of stuff. I never read the older ones.”

Nero spun around in his chair, pressing his lips together in a vain attempt not to express his extreme frustration by growling—loudly.

“Your grandfather. Kept a diary. And, not only that, but you still have it?”

His mind boggled. A fucking diary, and Forrest just forgot? He lasered him with a look that he hoped Forrest translated as What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“Diaries. And yes. I just don’t think about them much.”

“Your job now is to read through them, and the book report is due by the end of the day.” He made a shooing motion, encouraging him to get a move on already.

“Fine.” Forrest huffed, stomping out of the kitchen. “I never have been good at homework!” he said over his shoulder.

Nero snickered as he listened to Forrest move around in the living room and mutter to himself while he searched for the diaries. When he returned for the second time, he held a stack of Moleskine journals in his hands. He plopped down across the table from Nero.

“Shh, no talking or we’ll get in trouble.”

“Pffft, I bet you never got in trouble,” Forrest shot back.

“You think not?”

He hadn’t, but how did Forrest know that?

Forrest’s narrow gaze pinned Nero to his seat, assessing him, causing a shot of lust to spark up his spine. Now was not the time, he told himself.

Finally, Forrest said, “I think you could’ve been the mastermind behind the trouble but as an expert in raising hell, I don’t see you doing it. I bet you never had study hall or were made to stay after school and clean up trash around the grounds.”

“You’re right,” Nero admitted. “I even graduated early. Mostly so I could get away from the assholes I went to school with. Now, get to work.”

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