Page 12 of Code Violation

“Because you can’t, that’s why. Get over it.”

Stumbling into his kitchen, Forrest started the coffee pot, then stood at the counter and stared outside while it gurgled and hissed. The floor was chilly—he probably should have put socks on. But he hated the feeling of socks against his skin and generally waited until his feet were blocks of ice before giving in.

His cell phone vibrated from its spot on the kitchen table. Forrest glared at it before shuffling that direction. The screen declared Unknown Caller.

“Fuck that.”

He wasn’t going to answer the call at first, but then changed his mind.

Snatching up the phone, he pressed Accept.

“What?” he demanded.

There was no reply.

“Is this a prank call?”

Was there no one on the other end of the line? Forrest thought he heard an intake of breath.

“Well? Hurry up, I haven’t got all fucking day.”

He did have all day since he was self-employed. And it was, the stove clock informed him, almost nine in the morning now. And not yet late March. He had another month before he’d be out mucking in the fields.

“Er—”

Forrest’s thumb jammed against the red telephone icon. There was something satisfying about hanging up on a cold call first thing in the morning. If it was important, they’d call back.

He lingered in the kitchen another few minutes, waiting for the coffee machine to finish, then poured himself an extra-large cup—black like his redheaded soul. As much as he wanted to sink onto his couch and stare at the ceiling, he did have work to catch up on, vendors to call, and general shit he tended to ignore over the winter months. The pile of mail on his desk was getting out of hand.

But after stepping through his office doorway, his mug gripped in one hand, Forrest halted so quickly that a splash of hot coffee sloshed over the rim and landed on his fingers.

“Fuck.” Changing hands, he wiped the hot coffee off on his jeans.

The light on his ancient answering machine was blinking red-red-red in a foreboding rhythm. A deep sense of unease flooded through him, and his heart thumped loudly. No one ever called the landline.

It was a joke between his sister and him that he still had the damn thing, inherited from their long-dead grandfather. The fact that it still functioned had been in question—that was how long it had been since someone had left a message on it.

All of his friends—and Lani, of course—knew to call or preferably text his cell number. Even with the crappy cell service in the area, he’d get a message eventually.

The mix of dread and irritation flooding his system peaked. He should be immune to the feeling by now. Maybe that was just the caffeine taking effect. Had something happened to Lani? He couldn’t bear it.

No, he told himself. Chief Dear wouldn’t just leave a message. But of course Forrest’s brain jumped to the worst possible scenario.

Moving closer to the desk, his hand shaking slightly, he reached out and pressed his finger against the Play button. After a series of clicks and raspy squeaks, a monotone voice informed Forrest the message had been left a few days earlier. An unfamiliar, but not entirely unknown, voice began to speak.

“Hello, this is Nero Vik leaving a message for Forrest Cooper. I hope so, anyway. I hope this is Forrest Cooper’s number and not some random other Forrest Cooper.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Forrest groaned. This would explain why Vik gave him the side-eye at the pub yesterday. He thought Forrest was ignoring his call. He was, just not until now.

He had no intention of talking to Vik about anything and contemplated just deleting the message. On the other hand, Nero Vik had a nice voice. Forrest just didn’t plan on talking to him. It wouldn’t be weird if he played this over and over, right?

“Anyway, I think you know I’m an investigative reporter—well, ex-reporter—but you don’t care about that. I’m working on a podcast about Cooper Springs. It’s a long story but while I’m in town, I’m hoping to interview people regarding some teenagers who went missing in the late 1980s.”

Vik cleared his throat before starting up again.

“Not that you had anything to do with missing girls. But when I research these, I like to talk to as many people as possible. The story’s not only about the missing young women, but about Cooper Springs as well.”

Vik paused again, or maybe Forrest couldn’t hear him speaking over the pounding of his heart.

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