He jabbed a thick finger toward my cabin. "You had my sister arrested."
"She had herself arrested," I corrected. "She was trespassing. She was stealing."
"Shut your mouth!" he snapped, stomping closer. "I don't give a damn about your excuses."
I held my ground. "Then you're not interested in the truth."
"Truth?" He laughed, one sharp, humorless bark. "The truth is you embarrassed her. You humiliated her. You called the cops like she's some kind of criminal."
"She committed a crime," I said. "Multiple, actually."
Something behind his eyes flickered: a mix of anger and confusion, like part of him wanted to understand, but the other part, the bigger part, refused.
"She was desperate," he barked. "The power company screwed her. She had no heat, no lights."
"And that's not my responsibility," I said. "You don't solve a problem by stealing from other people."
"From neighbors," he spat. "Out here, mountain folk help each other. That's how it's always been."
I shook my head. "Helping is one thing. Stealing without asking is another. She never once talked to me. Not once. She hid in the trees."
"Joey, she used cords like tripwires. That's not helping. That's sneaking."
He took another step. Too close now. Close enough that I could smell the cigarettes on his jacket, see the rain dripping from the brim of his cap. "You're going to fix this," he said, his voice low. "You're going to drop the charges. You're going to tell the sheriff you made a mistake."
I blinked slowly. "I'm not dropping anything."
A muscle in his jaw twitched. "You damn city people," he muttered. "Think you own the world? Think you're smarter than everyone?"
I didn't respond. He wasn't here to listen. The rain thinned his voice a little, turning his shouts into dull thumps against the wet air.
He took another step, and that's when I reached into my jacket.
His eyes widened. He froze.
I pulled out my phone—not a weapon, not even a tool, just the phone. I raised it and hit record.
Joey's face twisted in instant, panicked anger. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Documenting," I said calmly. "The sheriff already has a report from me about trespassing. If you want to stand here threatening me, you're welcome to keep talking."
"I ain't threatening!"
"You're on my land. You approached me aggressively. You ordered me to drop charges. You're demanding I lie to law enforcement. That's coercion, Joey."
He blinked, rain dripping down his brow. "Stop saying my name!"
"You walked up to me while trespassing. You tampered with my breaker box. The sheriff has photos."
He pointed sharply toward the cabin. "That box was already loose."
"No," I said, my voice steady as granite. "I checked it earlier today, and I saw the tracks from your truck."
He stiffened. Got him.
"You need to leave," I continued. "Now, before this gets worse for you."
For a moment, just a moment, I saw something shift in him: a hesitation, a flicker of doubt, a sense that maybe he'd stepped into something bigger than he'd anticipated. But ego is a powerful thing, especially when the sibling causing the trouble is someone like Karen.
He puffed up again. "You think a damn phone scares me?"
"No," I said. "But jail might."
He opened his mouth, probably to bark another threat, but at that exact moment, a branch snapped in the woods behind him.
We both turned.
A figure emerged—older, slower, but far more grounded. Randall.
He walked out with a walking stick in one hand, rain dripping from his hatbrim. "Well," Randall said mildly, "this looks like trouble I didn't get invited to."
Joey's posture tightened. "Stay out of this, old man."
"No," Randall said, simply stepping closer. "I won't."