I slipped the green cord under my arm and went back inside. If Karen had returned, or sent someone else, I needed to know exactly what I was dealing with. I set the cord on the table and grabbed my mini trail camera from my gear box. Then I headed back outside and mounted it high on a tree trunk facing the path she'd used. Nothing was getting onto my land again without me knowing.
Back inside again, I locked the door and finally unloaded my groceries. I made dinner, poured a glass of water, and tried to shake off the creeping feeling that the situation was evolving faster than I could track.
My phone buzzed again. For a split second, my stomach tightened, but it wasn't Karen. It was a number I did recognize.
"Randall," I answered.
"Hey, Dalton," he spoke in a low voice. "You at your place now?"
"Yeah, why?"
He exhaled sharply, the sound crackling through the old phone. "Thought I should warn you. Karen's brother, Joey—he's bad news. Loud, stupid, quick to fight, works odd jobs, gets fired from all of them. He's been stomping around down here, swearing up and down that you set his sister up."
My jaw clenched. Great.
"That's not all," Randall continued. "Saw him load something into the back of his truck. Hard to see in the dark, but it looked like tools, extension cords, maybe even a damn generator. He was muttering something about fixing the score."
My pulse thumped. "Is he headed up here?"
"No idea. Just didn't want you blindsided."
"I appreciate it," I said. "Really."
"Stay alert," Randall replied. "He ain't got Karen's level of scheming, but he's got more muscle than brain."
The line clicked off. I stood there for a moment, letting the weight of those words settle. The mountain nights were usually comforting, quiet, predictable, but suddenly everything felt coiled and tense, like the woods were holding their breath.
I closed the curtains, double-checked the locks, and turned on the porch light. Its warm glow spilled across the dirt, illuminating the area where the orange cord still lay.