Ah. There it was. I leaned against the porch railing. “Let me guess. Karen.” Her eyes widened. “Yes. And her brother. They came by our place this morning. They said you were dangerous. That you tried to electrocute her. That you threatened them. They told us they’re forming a complaint group against you.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Of course they are.” “I didn’t believe them,” she added quickly. “Not really. But I wanted to hear your side.” I nodded. “Thank you. Sit down if you want.” She hesitated, then stepped onto the porch. “I’m Anna.” “Nice to meet you, Anna.” She settled onto a chair. “Look, we’re new up here. We don’t want trouble. But they were banging on our door early, saying they needed signatures. They said you were being investigated. That you attacked her during an electrical dispute.” I let out a humorless laugh. “Is that what she’s calling it now?”
The rain-thick air hummed around us as I summarized the entire situation. What Karen did. How I caught her. The police involvement. The trail-cam footage. The attempted tampering with my breaker box. Even Joey’s visit earlier. Anna’s face shifted from concern to disbelief to anger. “My God,” she whispered. “She’s been lying through her teeth since the moment she stepped on my property,” I said. Her hands curled into fists. “And she made us feel guilty for not signing her stupid petition. She said you were trying to destroy the mountain community spirit.” “That’s one way to phrase not letting her steal.” She bit her lip. “We’ll support you. If there’s an official complaint, we’ll back your version. And we’ll tell the other new neighbors. People shouldn’t be fooled by her.” Relief washed over me, warm and unexpected. “Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot.” 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 did not 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 was not just theft. This was not 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. Something sharper. Something that said, all right, now I know exactly what you are trying to do. They were not 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 had already used that spot, would choose to hide. The text beneath it burned in my mind. You should have minded your business.