Page 8 of Code Violation

“Yes, and your mother never let me forget it, either. I ended up with three damn stitches.” He glowered at his son. “And the incident did nothing to change my opinion on snakes.”

Everyone was laughing, including Forrest Cooper. Even Rufus Ferguson, who was probably tired of having that story retold, started chuckling. Nero caught Forrest Cooper’s reluctantly amused expression in the bar mirror. Smiling himself, Nero scooped up the last bite of salad and jammed it into his mouth. For the first time in ages, he felt like he belonged.

Cooper Springs was a town of weirdos, and he suspected he might fit in if he let himself.

FOUR

Forrest – Wednesday

“I don’t trust him,” Forrest repeated. Another word rolled around in his mouth before he spit it out like a sour grape. “Podcaster.”

Nero Vik had finally departed after drinking his beer and eating his damn salad. Thank fuck. Vik made Forrest feel too many conflicting emotions at once. He’d accidentally caught a glimpse of him in the backbar mirror and had been snagged by his smile—which irritated him.

“He’s very pleasant and well-mannered,” Magnus said, ignoring Forrest’s derision and continuing to wipe down the surface of the bar where Nero had been sitting. “Stops in every few days and has a beer and a burger. Doesn’t strike me as a mass murderer. I had a listen to one of his shows, and he seems to know what he’s doing. It’s not as if he’s hiding or lurking around corners and jumping out at people with a microphone. You should give him a break.”

Wonderful. Now Magnus the Great was championing Nero Vik. And was also an expert on what mass murderers looked like. Pleasant and well-mannered. What did that even mean? Didn’t everyone say that about their serial killer neighbors? Forrest glanced at his old friend again, and Magnus caught the look and smirked.

Smirked.

Wait, was Magnus giving him the side-eye? Was give him a break a euphemism? One never knew with Magnus. Or with Rufus, for that matter.

Could Magnus suspect that Forrest was both repelled and drawn to the hack podcaster? No. Just no. Wasn’t going to happen. Forrest had some standards.

He suppressed a growl and focused on his drink, positive now that the look Magnus shot him had been loaded with innuendo. Good fucking god, the man was a damn busybody. The first person to spark Forrest’s interest in months was exactly the wrong person, and Forrest wasn’t giving in. He’d leave town soon, and Forrest could go back to being happy enough alone.

Vik would go away, disappear, leave Cooper Springs forever. Forrest didn’t want him getting comfortable in town, making people—Magnus and Rufus, for instance—like him.

Making Forrest want him.

The Fucking Scales of Desire and Loathing were swinging so wildly one direction and then the other that Forrest didn’t know what he wanted, really. Up from down, what the fuck?

Therefore, there was going to be nothing. This was good.

However, Forrest for sure didn’t want Vik roaming around town and asking people questions, even if those questions had nothing to do with him. Because they easily could.

“He’s an… ambulance chaser, a podcaster,” Forrest repeated as if Vik was Satan himself. “He feeds on other’s misfortune. Fucking bottom-feeder.”

Some people’s biggest fears were heights, spiders, or the monsters under the bed. They were the lucky ones. Forrest was afraid the monster living in the forest still lurked out there. Especially after Levi Cruz’s sister disappeared last November.

No one had seen Forrest’s parents, or anyone from their group, since they’d gone into the woods before Forrest was born. Well, except for Forrest and Lani, and Forrest truly wished they hadn’t seen them. As far as he knew, no one had looked for the group either. Grandpa had said they’d made their wishes very clear. Surely if they were still alive, someone would have reported spotting them. He reminded himself about that one guy in Maine who’d lived in the woods for about the same amount of time, and no one had known he was out there, either.

It was possible.

The mere thought of Witt and Dina Cooper made his heart race and the palms of his hands get clammy, almost as if he might accidentally summon them from wherever they were now just by thinking about them. With any luck, it was hell for Dina. Forrest didn’t know about Witt.

“Now, how do you know that?” Magnus asked calmly, bringing Forrest back to the present. Magnus still dragged the pristine bar rag back and forth. “As far as I know, you haven’t given the man the time of day.” He cleared his throat and the next words came out softer than the usual Magnus bellow. “Give him a chance, Forrest. I can tell you want him. I worry about you, and so does Pops. Grab the golden ring while you can because who knows when you’ll meet someone like him again.”

Forrest ignored the emphasis on day and the throat-clearing and sipped his lemonade before replying. “Nick did a little research for me. I don’t trust him and I’m not giving him a break or a chance or anything else.”

His old friend was right; Forrest hadn’t given Vik the time of day. And he didn’t plan on changing his mind.

Magnus’s eyebrows rose an inch. “Oh, and our Nico is a glowing example of seeing things clearly and judging fairly?”

Magnus’s teasing tone pissed Forrest off even more, counteracting the calming effect of his lavender lemonade. Maybe Nick Waugh was a bit of a hothead, but Nick cared. He cared about Cooper Springs and the people who lived there.

Forrest squinted at his lemonade again. Okay, maybe Nick caring about more than Martin Purdy was a bit of an exaggeration. He did care about the town itself, but not many of the residents made Nick’s list. It was an attitude Forrest understood.

“And so what if he is a podcaster?” Magnus added. “He’s providing a valuable service. From what I gather, he’s helped solve a few cold cases already, and families were finally able to bury their loved ones. They have closure now. I think it’s time you got over yourself and dealt with the past head on.”

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