18? That's That's substantial. That's enough to establish pattern and practice. That's enough to build a RICO case if the evidence supports it. What's your timeline?
I need 72 hours to review what you have. If it's as strong as you say, I can open an official investigation. But, Mr. Holloway, the moment I do that, Wade Kimball will know. He'll escalate. He'll destroy evidence.
He'll threaten witnesses. Things will get dangerous. They're already dangerous. They'll get worse. Are your people ready for that?
Garrett looked through the window. 18 families working together, supporting each other, standing together. " Yes," he said, "we're ready." Then send me everything you have, encrypted email. I'll send you the address.
And, Mr. Holloway, be careful. Men like Wade Kimball don't surrender. They burn everything down rather than lose. The call ended. Garrett stood in the parking lot for a moment, letting it sink in.
The FBI was interested, actually interested. There was a path forward, a real one. He went back inside, told the group. The energy shifted immediately. Hope, fragile but real. "
72 hours," Douglas said. " That's tight, but doable. We work through the night if we have to. Get everything organized, every contract, every testimony, every piece of evidence. Make it impossible for the FBI to say no."
They worked until midnight, then started again at 6:00 a.m. the next morning. Douglas coordinated. William kept everyone fed and caffeinated. Harvey managed the digital files. Garrett kept morale up, moving from person to person, listening, encouraging, reminding them why this mattered.
Sarge stayed with Evelyn mostly. The dog had claimed her as his primary charge. Wherever she went, Sarge followed, guard mode permanently engaged. By noon on the second day, they had everything compiled. Douglas wrote a 20-page summary brief.
Harvey created a digital archive with encrypted backups. The case was as strong as they could make it. Garrett sent it to Agent Pritchard, then they waited. The response came 8 hours later, short, professional. " Received, under review, will contact within 48 hours.
Stay safe." Stay safe, like that was possible. That night things escalated. Garrett was home, asleep, Sarge on the floor beside the bed, both of them exhausted from 2 days of constant work. At 2:15 a.m., Sarge started barking.
Not the alert bark, the threat bark, aggressive, urgent. Garrett was up instantly, shotgun, moved to the window. Outside his garage was on fire. Not a small fire, not an accident. The entire structure engulfed in flames, orange light painting the street, smoke billowing into the night sky.
Garrett ran outside, barefoot, shotgun in one hand, phone in the other. Called 911. " Fire at 896 Cottonwood Lane. Garage fire, spreading fast." The operator asked questions.
Garrett answered on autopilot. His mind was racing. This wasn't accidental. This was message. This was Wade.
Sirens in the distance, getting closer. Fire truck, police, neighbors emerging from houses, standing on lawns, watching. The fire department arrived 6 minutes later. By then, the garage was a total loss. They focused on keeping the flames from spreading to the house.
Managed to contain it. But everything in the garage, tools, equipment, the Honda CB750 he'd been restoring, gone. Ash and twisted metal. Sheriff Dalton Kimball arrived with the fire truck. He surveyed the scene, talked to the fire chief, then walked over to Garrett. "
Terrible thing," Dalton said. His voice was neutral, professionally concerned. Any idea how it started?" " You tell me." " Excuse me." "
Your brother did this. You know it. I know it. Everyone here knows it." Dalton's face hardened. "
That's a serious accusation, Mr. Holloway. You have proof?" " Not yet." " Then I'd be careful about making defamatory statements, might find yourself facing legal consequences on top of property loss." Dalton looked at the burning garage. "
Fire chief says it looks like faulty wiring. Old building, happens all the time. Lucky it didn't spread to your house. Lucky. Insurance should cover most of it, assuming you kept up with your premiums."
Dalton smiled, cold. " You did keep up with your premiums, didn't you?" Garrett didn't answer. Just stared at the sheriff until the man got uncomfortable and walked away. The fire was extinguished by 4:00 a.m. The fire chief confirmed Dalton's assessment, faulty wiring, accidental, nothing suspicious.
Garrett knew better, but knowing and proving were different things. As the sun came up, he stood in front of the smoking remains of his garage. Everything he'd built over 40 years, every tool he'd collected, every project he'd started, gone. Sarge pressed against his leg, solid, present, still here. William arrived at 6:30, took one look at the destruction, and closed his eyes. "
Wade." " Yeah." " This is my fault. I should have warned you. Should have told you how far he'd go." "
Wouldn't have changed anything. Still would have helped Evelyn. Still would have organized the families. This just proves we're right, proves Wade's scared. Scared men are dangerous men." "
So are determined ones." By 8:00 a.m., word had spread. The 18 families started showing up, standing in solidarity, offering help, offering support. Harvey brought his tools. " We'll rebuild it, all of us, together."
Margaret brought food. " You need to eat. Can't fight on an empty stomach." Evelyn came last, wheelchair rolling up the driveway. She looked at the destruction, then at Garrett. "