Chapter 17

"Do you mind if we stop by the library again?" Nero asked. The truck's passenger door was still ajar, and he was only half perched on the bench seat. "I'd like to find out why Fernsby emailed me."

"Sure, but I'm not going in this time. I'm gonna sit out here and obsess about Rufus."

"Chicken," Nero said with a snort. "I don't think it will take long. I can't imagine what he has to tell me—if he's even bothered to show up."

"Seriously, I feel like I've faced down my enemy once already today. Twice is asking too much."

Nero chuckled.

"Will you still be here when I get back?"

Forrest rolled his eyes. "Yes, I promise I will be here." He tapped his fingers restlessly against the steering wheel. He wanted to take action, do something, figure out where the hell Rufus had gotten to. But there was nothing for him to do; the best course of action was not to run into the forest and see if they could find him. What if that wasn't where he'd gone?

Nero hopped back out of the truck. Forrest watched him jog down the block and disappear around the corner. What could he say? He was a gay man and Nero had an awesome ass. Not many minutes later, Nero was back and making himself comfortable in the passenger seat again.

"Fernsby never did show up, and Mr. Peacock wouldn't give me a phone number. ‘For the personal safety of our staff.' I get it, but seriously, when the guy had said he wanted to meet with me?" Nero complained.

"Mr. Peacock." Forrest snorted at the made-up name. "He wouldn't give you the time of day if it wasn't already public information."

"Do you happen to know where Fernsby may live?"

"In case you hadn't noticed yet, Nero, I make it my business not to know much of anything about what happens in town. With the exception of gossip at the Donkey, and that is generally not random people's home addresses."

"So that's a no? I suppose I could ask around."

"Yep." Forrest paused for a moment, then asked, "But how about we head back to my place? I can make us something to eat."

"Sounds good to me."

Vaguely anxious about Rufus but with no idea what to do about it since they didn't have a real idea as to where he was, Forrest pulled out into the street again. He swung a quick left so they were headed back to the main drag.

"You know," he said. "I don't know that I ever did have a library card."

His comment was first met by silence.

Finally, Nero spoke. "You've never had a library card? That's, that's an abomination."

"As you know, I found plenty of things to do besides read, and Grandpa had all those books anyway. I do remember Grandpa taking me there at least once. I had a big stack of books to take home, and the librarian asked him if I would be able to read them all before they were due. Grandpa's response was to laugh and say he hoped they would keep me busy for the whole weekend, but that he doubted it."

He quickly glanced over at Nero. His passenger was staring out the window and watching the world of Cooper Springs pass by, tapping on his thigh while he did so, listening to a tune Forrest couldn't hear. Maybe worrying about Rufus—he seemed to like him.

"What else do you think was stored there?" Nero asked.

"Huh?" Forrest was confused before realizing they'd passed by the charred remains of the mansion. "Oh, I have no idea. Could've been anything, I guess. The last time anyone lived there was in the 1950s. The city was supposed to use it as a museum or other public building, but as far I'm aware, it's just sat empty. Well, obviously not entirely empty."

Forrest slowed again before turning onto the highway. They passed by Murry Evison's empty property and Forrest wondered if the crotchety old man was still in Arizona. He liked Murry; Forrest hoped to be as cantankerous as he was someday.

"Did you learn anything today?" he asked Nero. "Other than that milk cost $1.57 a gallon, the coin-op laundry had just opened, and the newly refurbished Cooper Springs Resort was reportedly expecting a banner summer of car-touring guests in 1978?"

"Ah, you were reading over my shoulder after all. I think I did. Or at least, now I have a more complete picture of what Cooper Springs was like back then. Not much about the missing girls."

"It was depressing."

If Kurt Cobain thought Aberdeen was bad, he should've come for a visit.

"There's that."

"I think town leaders were more concerned about plans for the abandoned mill, the upcoming mayoral race, and the two new shopping malls being developed in Aberdeen than about those girls." That disgusted Forrest. "The shopping mall scandal was big news, I remember. Grandpa ranted about it constantly. He was so angry about it. He, Rufus, Oliver, and Ned would sit up for hours and rant about the mayor and his cronies."

A developer had approached Cooper Springs' city leaders and they'd refused to give the company permits. In hindsight, the decision had kept Cooper Springs from turning into a smaller version of Aberdeen, but at the time, the town had been divided, especially since the residents had been in the final death throes of the timber industry. It had been dark times for the town and a lot of families had moved away to Aberdeen—which had gotten the shopping mall—Port Angeles, Olympia, and even Seattle.

"Your grandfather wanted the shopping mall?"

"Yeah, he knew Cooper Springs was headed for obscurity," Forrest said, keeping his attention on the road. "He was the last of the timber families, so it hit him hard, I think. By that, I mean, he had memories as a child of a much busier and robust Cooper Springs, but that all changed when he was still small. The rise and fall of the Cooper family fortune, as he liked to say."

The headline he didn't want to talk about was the one after Grandpa had returned with Forrest and Lani. He was forever thankful that Ernst had done his best to keep reporters away. But that hadn't stopped people from accosting Forrest on the street when he was in town or at school. Like he was some kind of freak.

Because Forrest had taught himself to read, Grandpa had enrolled him in school soon after they'd come back to town—probably also to get a surly little boy out of his hair.

School was where Forrest learned to fight.

He shook those memories away. Grandpa had done the best he could with his feral grandchildren. Lani at least had hidden it better than Forrest. Still did. But she was just as wild inside as he was. Just as distrusting.

They were about halfway backto Forrest's place, just where the highway curved inward before sloping downward along a serpentine hill that followed the hidden curve of the coastline, when Forrest tapped the brakes and nothing happened.

He tapped them again. They squished all the way to the floorboards.

Where there should have been resistance, there was none. They'd been fine in town—he'd slowed at the corners with no problem—but now, nothing.

"Mother fucking fucker," he growled, gripping the steering wheel. "Hold the fuck on." Lani always told him he drove too fast and today it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

"What's wrong?" Nero asked.

He was going to rip Silas Murphy a new one. Forrest had taken his truck in only a few months earlier for a tip-to-tail tune-up, and new brakes had been one of the things he'd paid a lot of money for.

"Brakes," he said with gritted teeth.

The truck was gathering speed and the forest became a blur on either side. Forrest was afraid to look anywhere but the road ahead of them as long as he could see it. They hadn't crashed yet. His fingers ached from gripping the steering wheel while he futilely pumped the brakes—as if holding tight would make the inevitable crash less painful.

"I'm sorry, what?" Nero's voice cracked on the last word.

"Brakes aren't working," Forrest ground out.

"Are you kidding me?"

"No, I am not fucking kidding you."

The Ford was older than Forrest, made from good old American steel, and weighed close to eight thousand pounds. They were picking up speed and when they stopped, it wouldn't be pretty and it was going to hurt.

"Downshift," Nero demanded. "Downshift now."

Why hadn't he thought of that? Probably because he was too busy trying to keep the wheel straight. And, oh yeah, panicking. Forrest took a deep breath. If he panicked, they were dead. They were lucky there were no cars within sight on the highway. For the moment.

"Hold on."

Forcing his fingers off the steering wheel, Forrest reached down and grabbed the gearshift. Quickly, he pressed in the clutch with his left foot and pushed against the stick shift, forcing the truck into third gear. The engine whined and the gears ground, protesting the shift of gears happening without a change in speed. Sweat rolled down his forehead, but Forrest couldn't risk swiping it away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Nero had grabbed the grip above the door.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

They barreled down the hill, Forrest praying to any god who would listen.

Please make it so we don't end up as unrecognizable bits being swept up off the road by emergency responders.

Lani would kill him. And then she'd revive him and kill him all over again.

The truck had slowed down but not enough. Not nearly enough.

The engine was screaming under the strain of being forced to slow down without help from the brakes, and they were about to reach a part of the road that had a notorious curve. After that, the highway flattened and straightened out again, shooting past Levi's place.

He'd steer the truck into Levi's fence. If they survived the curve, he'd pay Levi for a new one. And if all Forrest needed after today was a new transmission and not new knees, he would be happy.

"Shift down again," Nero ordered.

Gritting his teeth, Forrest forced the truck into second gear. The engine screamed even louder but slowed further. Forrest continued to uselessly stomp on the brake pedal—as if they would magically start working again.

The truck sped past several white roadside crosses, a testament to those who'd failed to navigate this tricky stretch of highway. Forrest hadn't paid much attention to them before today, but now they seemed like neon signs.

Ahead was a stand of Douglas fir trees, their trunks battered from catching vehicles that missed this last turn. There were three more of the damn crosses in quick succession. With white knuckles and aching hands, Forrest guided the truck into the S-curve, giving the trees a mental middle finger.

Not this day. Not if Forrest could help it.

They were still going too fast. Smoke billowed out from underneath the hood.

"You've got this," Nero said, his voice barely audible over the vibration of the truck barreling along the road.

How could the man sound so calm?

They made it though, and the highway ahead was straight as an arrow. Forrest sucked in a breath and started to think they might be okay when an RV pulled out in front of them.

"Motherfucker."

The beast was going the same direction they were, probably heading up toward Forks or Port Angeles. On either side of the highway was old pasture land owned by a trust. Levi's driveway was less than a quarter mile away.

Forrest gripped the steering wheel hard enough that he thought it might crack as the truck drew closer and closer to the back end of the brown RV. He glanced at the speedometer.

"It's the fucking pedal on the right, old man," he ground out.

Nero was silent. Forrest kind of wished he'd scream.

"Pull off. Do it now."

Nero was right; there was no more time.

"Hold the fuck on."

Forrest didn't need anyone to tell him this was gonna hurt. His poor truck. He jerked the steering wheel to the right to avoid hitting the camper and the truck careened off the road, rising into the air for a millisecond before hitting the side of a drainage ditch. The shriek of shredding metal was deafening.

The hiss of disconnected hoses and smoke billowing from the engine brought Forrest back to his senses. With a groan, he opened his eyes. He hadn't realized that he'd shut them. Something dripped down his cheek and he raised a hand to swipe at it. His fingers came away red.

"Shit. Nero." Forrest twisted around to check on his passenger.

Nero stared out the shattered windshield, blood dripping down the side of his head. He was alive anyway.

"Shit, shit, shit," Forrest chanted, struggling with his seat belt.

They had to get out of the truck. Forrest had a vision of the truck catching fire and bursting into flames. Too many action movies. That didn't happen often in real life—right?

Forcing his body to move, Forrest shoulder-checked the door. It budged with a nasty creak but wouldn't open all the way. Forrest was going to have to squeeze out.

Fuck, he couldn't move.

He panicked before realizing he still hadn't unclipped his seat belt. The adrenaline gave him the strength to unhook himself. With the safety belt open, Forrest forced himself shoulder first through the too small opening, ripping some of his shirt buttons off and tearing one sleeve. Shirts could be replaced.

Almost immediately, he fell to his knees.

That hurt.

"Forrest! What the fuck? What happened? Are you okay? Of course you're not okay."

Blinking muzzily, Forrest recognized Levi Cruz's voice, but darkness closed in before he could explain.

* * *

Forrest and Nerosat shoulder to shoulder on a damp hillock about fifty feet from what had been Forrest's pride and joy. Nero had his precious backpack sitting between his knees. Levi paced back and forth in front of them.

Even though Forrest had only passed out for a second, Levi was insisting on calling them an ambulance. Forrest was trying to convince him not to. Nero just seemed to be enjoying the argument, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two of them.

"We don't need an ambulance. Do we, Nero?"

Nero shook his head. "I'm fine, just banged up."

Levi glared at Forrest and then Nero. Pulling out his cell phone, he called the fire station and the garage while Forrest and Nero listened to his side of the conversation. And Forrest, at least, thanked fuck he was alive and relatively unhurt.

"They say they're fine. The truck is trashed, and the engine is still smoking a bit. All right, thanks." Frowning, Levi slipped the phone back into the pocket of his sweatshirt.

"Cops are busy with something. Fire's on the way. Fucking cops are always too busy. What the fuck happened?" he demanded.

Forrest knew Levi was pissed off at the world in general, not just CSPD. And nobody, not even the CSPD, blamed him.

"Dude, we're fine. We don't need the police."

Especially not Lani. Was she working today? Forrest hoped not, but he wasn't stupid enough to assume she'd stay behind her desk like the doctor wanted her to if she heard about this call.

"Don't fucking Dude me. You could have a concussion. You could be dead," Levi snarled.

"Not dead," Forrest muttered. "Right here. Listening to you yell at me. Us."

Levi glanced at Nero again and dismissed him.

"Oh, I'm just yelling at you. He wasn't behind the wheel."

"Why is it always my fault when the shit hits the fan?"

"Your reputation precedes you. Again, what the fuck happened?"

Forrest looked down the now empty road. The RV, oblivious to the near collision, hadn't even stopped. It was long gone, heading north.

"The brakes gave out at the top of the hill."

Or before. He wasn't sure and it didn't feel like it mattered right now.

"You could've been killed," Levi pointed out.

"Yeah, I'm gonna have a little conversation with Silas about that," Forrest said.

Levi stopped his pacing long enough to scowl at Forrest again. "Silas is a genius mechanic. Do you really think he made a mistake replacing your brakes?"

"I don't know what else it could be. They were fine this morning."

* * *

A flatbed towtruck arrived within a few minutes, just as it was starting to get dark. And, thank fuck, Silas was behind the wheel. The fire engine Forrest could hear in the distance was coming from the far side of town.

"Dammit," he grumbled. The last thing he wanted to do was confront the town's mechanic about shoddy work, but it had to be done. Rising to his feet, he watched the massive truck pull to a stop. Nero stood up as well.

"Just come up the drive and over," Levi yelled to Silas.

They were silent while Silas maneuvered the truck to where they were waiting. Pulling to a stop, Silas popped open the door and jumped out. Without saying anything, he strode over to take in the smoldering wreckage of Forrest's truck.

"Don't worry about us, we'll be fine," Forrest snarked. "Not dead yet."

"What happened?" Silas asked, turning to face them. He still appeared more worried about the Ford than the humans.

"Forrest says the brakes failed," Levi answered.

"They did not." Silas spun back around as if he was going to crawl under the truck and check the lines that minute.

"There is no way the brakes failed," Silas insisted, getting down on his hands and knees to peer underneath the chassis.

"At least wait to check shit until the fire department gets here and makes sure the truck isn't going to explode or something," Forrest said. The action movie images still played in his head.

Standing up again, Silas crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, clearly unhappy that his work was being called into question.

"It couldn't have been a brake failure. Absolutely not."

Silas was a quiet guy. Forrest didn't know much about him, but he did know that Silas was proud of his skills as a mechanic. He was good and he didn't fuck up. If that weren't the case, Forrest wouldn't have trusted him with his baby in the first place. Most of the work he did himself too. Apparently, he'd hired a guy once and it hadn't worked out. The guy had been gone in less than six weeks.

"Listen, Forrest, I mess up and this town will shut me down. My business would be bankrupt in months, if not weeks. No way was it mechanical error."

He and Silas stared at each other. Forrest had to admit that Silas had a point. He'd managed to keep his garage open regardless of the economics of a small town. If people complained about his work, he would be done.

"My bad," Forrest conceded. "Do you think you can figure out what happened? Maybe it was a faulty part."

"Damn right I can figure it out," Silas responded, still a tad surly. "I just need a few minutes underneath."

"Please, wait until we get the all clear," Levi said again. "I can't deal with anyone getting hurt."

"Fine," Silas agreed, sullenly glaring at the Ford.

The fire truck finally arrived and there was a flurry of activity, including one of the responders checking out both Forrest's and Nero's head wounds and shining bright lights in their eyes while they sat on the truck's bumper.

"I always recommend a trip to the ER in these situations," the guy informed them both. He looked familiar but Forrest didn't think they knew each other.

"I'm fine," Nero insisted. "I just have a bit of a headache."

"Ditto," added Forrest. "Not seeing double or anything."

"Ultimately, it's up to you two, but I'm still making a note on my book that I recommended you see a doctor," the EMT said as he gathered up his gear and snapped shut the lid to his first aid kit.

"Over and out," Forrest retorted. "Still not going."

"Me neither."

The responder shook his head. "Fine, get off my truck."

"Some bedside manner you have," Nero commented.

"I only play a doctor on TV," the guy said dryly.

Nero squinted at his chest, presumably reading his name tag. "T. Prosser. Nice to meet you. Thanks for the Band-Aids."

"Anytime—but not anytime again soon."

Silas was almost finished loading the truck onto the flatbed. When he was done, he hopped into the driver's seat, giving Forrest a salute and the international sign for I'll call you before slowly driving back to the road and turning toward town. The fire engine departed as well, leaving the three of them standing in Levi's semi-destroyed field.

"I guess I owe you a new fence."

Levi looked around at the damage and shrugged. "I don't care. It's not as if I'm planting anything."

Forrest took a longer and closer look at his nearest neighbor. The sweatshirt and worn jeans his friend wore hung loose on him, as if he'd lost weight. And now that he wasn't yelling and red in the face, Forrest realized he was pale. Not the pale of a Pacific Northwesterner who didn't get out much in the winter months, but the kind of pale that meant Levi wasn't taking care of himself properly.

"What about the cidery?" Forrest asked.

Levi shrugged again, not answering Forrest's question. This time last year, Levi had been in the midst of planning to build a cidery on his property and using his apples to make a local hard cider.

Well, crap.

If Lani were missing, Forrest would be in a similar state. He needed to be a better friend. Levi had no family, his father having died years ago. And now his much younger half-sister had been missing since before last Thanksgiving.

Speaking of sisters, a Cooper Springs PD cruiser turned into Levi's driveway and Forrest unfortunately recognized Officer Lani Cooper behind the wheel.

"Fuck," Forrest said emphatically.