Page 62 of Code Violation

While Nero had been working on the board, Forrest had flipped through his grandpa’s journals again. Again, nothing stood out. These were just the notes of an apple farmer who owned a couple of horses.

He wondered what had brought together such different-seeming men as Ernst Cooper, Rufus Ferguson, Oliver Cox, and Ned Barker. He remembered listening to them talk out on the patio, their deep male voices a soothing rhythm as he tried to sleep or when he woke up from a nightmare.

“Something bad happened before Lani and I came to live with him, I think—not to Grandpa, I mean at the camp. Do you think that Grandpa, Ned, and Rufus all know what it was? Grandpa died twenty years ago, so why would someone kill Ned now? Is Oliver Cox safe?”

Forrest didn’t want to hash over his recurring nightmare. It was just images and sounds, nothing specific. But he was beginning to believe that he’d witnessed something horrific and his brain was doing its best to hide it from him, only to then ambush him in his sleep.

Nero sat down, biting his lip while he thought.

“I think it’s vital we talk to Rufus.” He tapped the papers. “If we think this is all connected—which we do—then he may be the only key we have left. Yes, Oliver Cox may know something, and he may not be safe if he’s on his way back now, but based on Rufus’s response to the bones, I think we need to go with that first.” Nero started going through each step outlined on his papers. “The heavy rains and storms in the past few months were responsible for the remains being found, we know that. When the news broke, it spread far. So far, in fact, that I decided to come here and didn’t keep my reason a secret.”

“True.”

“But I didn’t really get around to asking questions until this week. And then an arson fire destroyed possible information, a murder removed one of the last living friends of your grandfather, who had also died in a similar manner, identities of the remains were revealed, and now Rufus is missing.”

“We need to find Rufus.”

“There’s nothing we can do tonight, and besides, where would we look?”

“Where you found Ned is very close to the trail that leads to Crook’s Trail. I don’t know exactly where the homestead was, but I’m pretty sure it was that direction.”

Nero released a huge sigh. “You believe Rufus went up there alone?”

“Since some of his gear is missing? Yes, I do.”

“You said before that your worst fear is that Dina might still be alive and living up there. Do you think she’d be alone?”

“I think all of this could be me making wild conclusions. I wish we knew more.”

“Hand me my laptop. Maybe I can find something more.” Nero snapped his fingers. “Wait, do you think Magnus would let me look at the copies of the Sentinel that Rufus saved?”

“Only one way to find out.” Forrest picked his cell phone up and sent a quick text to Magnus.

TWENTY-TWO

Nero – Very Early Sunday Morning

The sun hadn’t risen, and Rufus’s porch light was still on. It was Magnus who opened the door before they could knock.

“You want to look through my old man’s stack of newspapers? I’ve been trying to get him to recycle the damn things for years.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Nero said. “It’s possible they hold a clue as to why he’s missing. Thanks for letting us come over.”

“Not like I was sleeping. Too worried. Make yourself at home.”

Forrest led the way inside. It wasn’t as tidy as it had been earlier. A blanket was draped over the easy chair and a book sat open-faced on the end table next to it.

Nero set his backpack down on the coffee table and peeled off his jacket. “Where is his collection?”

“Last I knew, in the basement.”

“Why does everyone around here store important documents in their basements? For fuck’s sake, it floods all the damn time.”

Not waiting for an answer, Nero headed for the kitchen and the door to the basement.

“It’s a good thing we aren’t in a horror movie,” he called out as he flicked up the light switch and carefully made his way down the creaky wooden stairs.

The basement was exactly what he expected: the same size as the main floor, slightly musty and damp-smelling, but clean enough. Rufus’s tidiness extended down there as well. Nero perused the metal shelves that held everything from two-person and four-person tents to gardening equipment—the quintessential Pacific Northwest weed whacker and several different rakes—to what looked like a homemade log-home play set. Nero wondered if it had been Magnus’s as a child.

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