I lowered my phone and hit stop on the recording. Randall gave a low whistle. “Someone ought to teach that boy how to pick his battles.” “I’m guessing he learned from his sister,” I said. Randall chuckled. “And she learned from someone even worse.” I raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?” “That family’s been causing problems up and down this ridge for years,” Randall said. “Entitlement runs in their blood the way sap runs in a pine tree.” I sighed, wiping the rain from my brow. “This is getting out of hand.” “It’s been out of hand,” Randall corrected. “But now you’ve got evidence, and a whole lot of people willing to back you.” He put a hand on my shoulder. It was not comforting in a sentimental way, but in a steady, grounding way. “You’re not alone up here,” he said. “Not anymore.” I nodded, letting that sink in. For the first time since this nightmare began, I felt something new settle inside me. Not fear. Not anger. Strength. Because now I knew the mountain had my back.
The rain eased into a misty drizzle as Randall and I stood there, watching the last echoes of Joey’s truck fade down the mountain. The tension did not disappear. It clung to the air like humidity. But the immediate threat had passed. For now. Randall gave my porch a long look, then the breaker box, then the damp trail where Joey had emerged. He was not a man who liked drama. You could tell. He was the type who preferred fishing rods and quiet mornings. The kind of neighbor every mountain community needed more of. “You should check inside,” he finally said, shifting his weight on his cane. “People like him sometimes do stupid things when they’re angry.” I did not argue.
We walked inside together. The cabin was exactly as I had left it. Warm wood. The faint hum of the fridge. Boots by the door. Tools on the table. But now, even these familiar things felt like they were holding their breath. I half expected to find a window cracked or something rearranged, but the place was untouched. Randall scanned the living room, then nodded. “Good. Looks like he didn’t get inside.” I exhaled slowly. “I think he came here just to try intimidation.” “And failed,” Randall said flatly. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t try again.” I rubbed a hand down my face. “I’m so damn tired of this.” He chuckled softly. “Welcome to mountain life. Ninety-nine percent peace, one percent chaos. Usually caused by people exactly like those two.”
He walked over to the window and peered out. The trail cam was still mounted, blinking faintly. “You keep that running,” he said. “You’ll want every second recorded.” I nodded. Already planned on it. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the soft patter of rain on the metal chimney cap. Finally, Randall cleared his throat. “There’s something else you should know.” I turned. “What now?” He hesitated just for a second, then lowered his voice. “Karen’s not done. Not by a long shot.” “I figured that part out already.” “No,” he said gently. “Not like this. She’s got a way of twisting things. Makes herself the victim. Makes others the villains. And she gets people riled up before they realize they’re fighting for a lie.” “Meaning?” I asked. He sighed. “Meaning I heard she’s been making phone calls. Lots of them. Telling anyone who’ll listen that you attacked her. Threatened her. That you rigged the power system to hurt her.” My jaw clenched. “She’s lying again.” Randall shrugged. “To folks who know her, yeah. To the new cabin owners who just moved in a mile up the ridge, maybe not so obvious.”