Joey squared his shoulders. "I'm handling family business."
Randall snorted. "That's what your daddy used to say right before he'd get himself arrested for a fourth time."
Joey reddened, eyes flashing. "Don't talk about him."
"I'll talk about whatever I damn well please," Randall said, barely raising his voice. "You're standing on someone else's land. You're yelling. You're threatening. And you're too stupid to realize the sheriff already knows you're involved."
"The sheriff doesn't know anything," Joey shot back.
"Oh, he knows plenty," Randall said. "He talked to me this morning. Seems your sister's story didn't hold up too well."
I watched Joey's shoulders stiffen like a bull preparing to charge. For a second, I thought this was about to turn into a full physical confrontation. My hand hovered near my pocket, not for a weapon, but to be ready to call the sheriff again.
Then Randall stepped up next to me—not shielding me, not confronting Joey directly, just standing there firm, unmoving, a wall.
"You can do one of two things," Randall said calmly. "Walk back to that rusty truck of yours and leave. Or you can stand here and give this man every reason in the world to bury you in charges."
"I don't give a damn about charges," Joey growled.
"Then think about Karen," Randall said. "Because everything you say right now, it's going to make her case worse. Much worse."
Something flickered again in Joey's eyes: confusion mixed with reluctant self-preservation.
"She's already in deep," Randall continued. "And you blowing up at her victim isn't going to help. You want to protect your sister? Walk away."
The wind blew through the trees, carrying the scent of wet pine. Joey stood there breathing hard, chest heaving, fists clenched. He looked from Randall to me to the phone still recording. Finally, he spat into the dirt.
"Fine," he muttered. "लेकिन this isn't the end."
It was exactly what Karen had said, and just like her, he turned and stormed off, shoulders stiff, boots splashing through puddles as he made a beeline for the silver truck. He yanked the door open, slammed it shut, revved the engine loud enough to rattle the leaves, and skidded backward down the driveway.
The moment he was gone, the mountain exhaled. It wasn't peace—not yet—but the immediate storm had passed.
I lowered my phone and hit stop on the recording.
Randall gave a low whistle. "Someone ought to teach that boy how to pick his battles."
"I'm guessing he learned from his sister," I said.
Randall chuckled. "And she learned from someone even worse."
I raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"That family's been causing problems up and down this ridge for years," Randall said. "Entitlement runs in their blood the way sap runs in a pine tree."
I sighed, wiping the rain from my brow. "This is getting out of hand."
"It's been out of hand," Randall corrected. "But now, now you've got evidence and a whole lot of people willing to back you." He put a hand on my shoulder. It wasn't comforting in a sentimental way, but in a steady, grounding way. "You're not alone up here," he said. "Not anymore."
I nodded, letting that sink in. For the first time since this nightmare began, I felt something new settle inside me—not fear, not anger, but strength. Because now I knew the mountain had my back.
The rain eased into a misty drizzle as Randall and I stood there watching the last echoes of Joey's truck fade down the mountain. The tension didn't disappear; it clung to the air like humidity, but the immediate threat had passed. For now.
Randall gave my porch a long look, then the breaker box, then the damp trail where Joey had emerged. He wasn't a man who liked drama, you could tell. He was the type who preferred fishing rods and quiet mornings—the kind of neighbor every mountain community needed more of.
"You should check inside," he finally said, shifting his weight on his cane. "People like him... sometimes they do stupid things when they're angry."
I didn't argue. We walked inside together.
The cabin was exactly as I'd left it: warm wood, the faint hum of the fridge, boots by the door, tools on the table. But now, even these familiar things felt like they were holding their breath. I half expected to find a window cracked or something rearranged, but the place was untouched.
Randall scanned the living room, then nodded. "Good. Looks like he didn't get inside."
I exhaled slowly. "I think he came here just to try intimidation."
"And failed," Randall said flatly. "लेकिन that doesn't mean he won't try again."
I rubbed a hand down my face. "I'm so damn tired of this."
He chuckled softly. "Welcome to mountain life. 99% peace, 1% chaos. Usually caused by people exactly like those two."
He walked over to the window and peered out. The trail cam was still mounted, blinking faintly. "You keep that running," he said. "You'll want every second recorded."
I nodded. "Already planned on it."