Page 37 of Code Violation

“Okay.” Nero nodded. “So, Ned Barker. Was he a good enough friend that he might have helped your grandpa find you?”

“Maybe? He had to at least have been aware of any hikers reporting children living in the woods like Hansel and Gretel or something. Only creepier.”

Nero picked up the pen again and jotted down what Forrest had told him. Forrest supposed that’s what he was doing anyway; his handwriting was a messy scrawl that easily could have been a code.

“I wouldn’t consider linking Ned’s death with your grandfather’s except that everything I’ve read makes it impossible to ignore.”

“But it’s been twenty years,” Forrest protested. “And almost thirty-five since Lani and I came to live with him.”

“Bear with me while I think here.”

Forrest watched Nero make his list. Ned Barker, Ernst Cooper, Witt and Dina, Morgan Blass, Kaylee Fernsby, Sarah Turner.

“What about Blair Cruz? Or Lizzy Harlow?” he asked.

Nero added the two names to the bottom of his list, then looked at Forrest with a thoughtful expression.

“Say you were around seven. Your dad was what?”

“Early thirties by then. Dina same, I think.”

“Your grandpa was likely in his fifties when he, uh”—Nero was obviously trying to come up with the right word—“brought you here. We can use public records to figure that out. So, maybe midsixties when he died. I know Ned was seventy, not much younger. Twenty years ago he was maybe around fifty, so when you came, he was fortyish?”

“I think Rufus and Ned are close to the same age. Were close.”

Forrest pinched the bridge of his nose, hating having to use the past tense.

“My point is that Ned was in great health. He had no issue with his mail route, right? Wasn’t going to retire until they forced him out?”

“No matter what Ollie always said, he was never forcing Ned out. Where are you going with this?”

“I don’t know, thinking out loud. I just know that Ned Barker didn’t kill himself and it wasn’t an accident. Let’s assume he’s a good guy and not connected to the girls’ deaths. Ned was also good friends with a man who died years ago in a similar manner, which is weird. He was close to your family. Remains were found up on that mountain that have been identified as young women who went missing during the time a survivalist group was known to be up there. Could be connected. I’d like to find out the other names in the survivalist group, if possible. Have they turned up anywhere else? Are they even still alive? It’s a long shot, but what if someone from the group is living in Cooper Springs under an assumed name or something, and Ned recognized them?”

“After all this time? Why? How is this list going to help find who killed Ned? He didn’t kill those girls.”

“I know it’s hard, but we don’t know that with certainty. I do tend to think that he didn’t.”

Forrest released a huff of frustration. “Nothing makes sense.” He laughed, adding, “You show up in town and all hell breaks loose.”

“Remember the conversation I had with Tim Dennis earlier in the week? Jeez, that seems forever ago. I came to do a story on the remains, on the missing girls of Cooper Springs. I’ve been here for a while, just kind of settling in and finishing up my most recent podcast. When I finally get around to doing some more in-depth research, there’s a fire at Cooper Mansion, which means any records that might have been there are lost now. Any idea yet if it was arson? Maybe you can talk to your sister?”

Forrest nodded.

“Then my place is rifled through, don’t know by whom. Ned Barker is found dead—by me. And I have to repeat, I never want to go through something like that again. Oh, and a handmade bracelet thingy that freaks you out shows up on my doorstep.”

Forrest groaned; he’d managed to forget about the bracelet.

“I’m not egotistical,” Nero continued, “but it feels to me that, due to the timing around my investigation, these incidences are about the remains. We finally learned who they belong to just this morning. Will something else happen? Maybe I’m making connections where there are none, but that’s why we want to gather as many facts as possible.”

“There’s still a chance Ned was killed randomly.”

“Do you really believe that?” Nero scoffed. “When his death is so similar to your grandfather’s? I don’t. If Ned wasn’t killed by a stranger, he was killed by someone he knew—duh, I know. Maybe your grandfather was killed by someone he knew, as well? But everyone seems to have liked Ned. Which again leads me to something in the past.”

“Yeah, Ned was quirky, but he was kind. He made friends with a raven. Left it treats and sparkly things. The darn bird would wait for him to come around. He told me it would almost be mad at him if he didn’t have anything.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s pretty dang cool. Anyway.” Tapping his list, Nero asked, “Are you willing to talk to Ned’s ex and ask if he had any enemies?”

“I can do that. I should give her my condolences anyway,” Forrest said, even though the last thing he wanted to do was call Kit Blinker nee Barker nee Cox. She lived on Vargas Island in British Columbia, population around thirty unless the uber-exclusive retreat had guests.