The question carries weight beyond simple curiosity. He's asking where my loyalties lie, whether I'll work with them or against them, if I believe Cara's story or the official version that paints her as corrupt.
"I believe her," I say. "She's been investigating the same network that got Tom killed. Everything she's told me matches what I've seen on my routes. The patterns, the locations, the timing. It all checks out."
Zeke nods slowly. "We can't officially acknowledge her existence. She's a wanted federal fugitive. If we report that we know where she is, whoever set her up gets notified through official channels. They'll know she's still investigating and they'll come for her."
"So you need someone outside the system to work with her."
"We need someone we trust to make sure she's legitimate. To verify her evidence, help her build the case, and keep her alive long enough to testify when the time comes." His eyes hold mine. "Someone who knows these mountains, runs the routes, sees things we might miss from satellite imagery and informant reports."
The pieces click together. "You want me to be your liaison."
"I want you to decide if she's worth protecting. If her investigation can help us dismantle the network that killed Tom Rearden and used this community as cover for trafficking." Zeke straightens from the toolbox. "We have resources we can funnel through you if needed. Information, equipment, backup if things go sideways. But we need confirmation that she's legitimate before we commit."
"And if she's not?"
"Then you walk away and let us handle it." Zeke's tone leaves no room for negotiation. "But I don't think that's how this plays out."
Neither do I. Cara's too methodical, too committed, too willing to risk everything for a case she can't prosecute from outside the system. That's not the behavior of someone guilty. That's the behavior of someone who knows the truth and refuses to let it die with Tom.
"I'm picking her up at the lodge at seven," I say. "She's bringing everything she has. Three years of investigation, evidence she hasn't shared with anyone."
"Good." Zeke heads toward the bay entrance, then pauses. "Finn. Be careful with this. Whoever framed her has resources and reach we're still trying to map. They've already killed one agent and destroyed another's career. They won't hesitate to eliminate threats."
"Understood."
He leaves, and I finish cleaning up the tools before closing the bay door. The truck starts on the first try, engine running smooth with the new belt. My phone buzzes with a text from Raymond:
Judith's asking for you. Something about the coffee maker you fixed last month.
Type back:
On my way.
It isn’t a quick trip, but if Raymond is asking, Judith must be having a rough spell.
I pull up to the Kowalskis' place. Raymond meets me at the door, his shoulders dropping with relief when he sees me.
"She's been agitated all afternoon," he says quietly. "Keeps saying the coffee maker is broken. I've tried showing her it's fine, but she doesn't remember." His voice cracks slightly on the last word.
Judith sits at the kitchen table, hands folded, expression lost. When I enter, her eyes clear for a moment.
"Finn. You came."
"Always do when you need me."
Moving to the coffee maker, I make a show of inspecting it, adjusting the settings that don't need adjustment and checking the connections that are already secure. This gives Judith something concrete to focus on while her mind struggles with reality that shifts like sand.
Raymond watches from the doorway, grateful for the small kindnesses that cost me nothing but time.
"There we go," I say finally. "Should be working perfectly now."
Judith smiles, relief smoothing the worry from her face. "Thank you, dear. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'll never have to find out." I squeeze her hand gently before turning to leave.
Raymond walks me out, exhaustion lining his face. "I don't know how much longer I can do this alone."
I've never heard him sound this defeated. Raymond's always been the steady one, the homesteader who handles everything thrown at him with quiet competence. Seeing him this worn down, this close to breaking, reminds me how much dementia takes from everyone it touches.
