She smiled weakly. "And honestly, you seem a lot more reasonable than they made you sound."
"I try."
We talked for another few minutes, and then Anna headed back up the ridge, promising to spread the truth among the folks Karen had tried to drag into her delusion.
When she left, I felt lighter—not safe, not done, but supported.
Then my phone buzzed with a new message from a number I didn't recognize. I opened it.
A picture of me taken from the woods, from the same angle the trail cam had caught Joey, and a text underneath: You should have minded your business.
My stomach dropped. My grip tightened, and something inside me—something fierce, unshakable—rose up. This wasn't just theft. This wasn't just harassment. This was escalation. And it was time to end it.
The moment I saw that photo—me standing on my own porch, taken from the shadows like I was some animal being tracked—a cold fire lit inside my chest. Not fear, not shock, but something sharper, something that said, All right, now I know exactly what you're trying to do.
They weren't just reacting anymore. They were planning, scheming, watching, and that crossed into a whole different territory.
I put my phone down slowly, staring at the image again as rain tapped on the windows. The angle was unmistakable. Whoever took it had stood in nearly the same spot where Joey had lingered two nights before—a place just barely outside the reach of my floodlight, a place someone familiar with the woods or someone who'd already used that spot would choose to hide.
The text beneath it burned in my mind: You should have minded your business.
I sat there for nearly a minute, breathing slowly, letting the initial surge of adrenaline settle so I could think clearly. Knee-jerk reactions were how people got hurt in situations like this. I needed logic, strategy, control.
I saved the photo, took a screenshot of the message with the timestamp, then forwarded everything straight to Detective Harris with a short note: They're stalking my property. I have visual proof now.
I didn't expect a reply immediately. It was still early evening, but knowing it was documented gave me one thing I desperately needed: leverage. The kind of leverage that turned a messy neighbor dispute into a criminal investigation.
I set the phone down, stood up, and paced the cabin. I could feel something simmering low inside me—not fear, but a kind of anger I hadn't felt in years, an anger sharpened by violation. I paused by the window, staring out at the darkening treeline, waiting, listening.