"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."