Knox pushed away from the railing, his body coiled with tension. "And you're just now mentioning this?" His voice carried an edge of accusation, though I noticed it was directed more at the situation than at me personally.
"I've been investigating on my own," I explained, meeting his gaze directly. "Didn't want to tip off whoever was responsible until I had more information."
"And now you're ready to share," Ransom observed, his eyes narrowed slightly. "Why? What's changed?"
I glanced at Harlow, who nodded encouragingly, his large hand coming to rest beside mine on the swing between us—not quite touching, but close enough that I could feel his warmth.
"For one thing, this," I said, gesturing slightly between Harlow and myself. "And for another, I've connected some dots that involve your family land."
That got their full attention. Knox stopped his pacing, turning to face me fully, while Ransom's expression darkened like a thundercloud.
"Three months ago, right after I arrived, I started investigating reports of illegal hunting in the county," I continued, organizing the facts as I would for an official briefing. "Specifically, poaching of black bears for their gallbladders and paws. There's a black market for those parts—they're used in traditional medicines, fetch a high price overseas."
"On McKenzie land?" Knox asked sharply.
I nodded. "The northwest corner, where your property borders state forest. Remote enough that regular patrols don't cover it, but accessible if you know the back roads."
Ransom cursed under his breath, the rockers of his chair scraping against the porch boards as he shifted forward. "Wedon't allow hunting on our land," he said, his voice tight with controlled anger. "Not for decades."
"I know," I said. "That's part of what makes it attractive to poachers. The animals have learned it's a safe zone, so they concentrate there. Easy pickings for someone who doesn't care about permits or hunting seasons."
Harlow's hand finally moved to cover mine, his touch grounding me as I continued.
"Two weeks before my accident, I found evidence of a poaching operation—blood trails, improperly discarded carcasses, tracks from vehicles that had no business being that deep in the woods." I took a deep breath, remembering the grim discoveries. "The next day, I found a warning on my windshield at the station. Just a note that said'Mind your business.'"
"You report it?" Knox asked.
"To Sheriff Hardesty, yes. But with no fingerprints and no witnesses, there wasn't much to go on." I shrugged. "I kept investigating anyway. Found more evidence, including what looked like a temporary processing camp on the far edge of your property. That's when my brakes failed."
Ransom stood abruptly, pacing the length of the porch with barely contained fury. "Someone's using our property for illegal hunting, and they tried to kill a cop to cover it up?" His voice was deadly quiet, more frightening than if he'd been shouting.
"That's what it looks like," I confirmed. "They're coming in through the old logging road that cuts across your northwest corner. Probably at night, using spotlight hunting techniques that are illegal even during regular hunting season."
Knox was already on his feet, his tactical mind visibly working through scenarios. "How many people involved, you think?"
"At least three, based on the tracks I found," I said. "Possibly more. This isn't small-scale—they're supplying an establishedtrafficking network. The bear parts move through Portland, then overseas."
Harlow's hand tightened around mine, his concern palpable. "That's why you were on that back road when your brakes failed," he said softly, connecting the dots. "You were checking the northwest corner again."
“The cover story was about an abandoned vehicle, but yes.” I nodded, something warm unfurling in my chest at his quick understanding. "It's the most direct route from town. I'd received a tip about activity that night."
"A setup," Knox stated flatly, not a question but a conclusion.
"Most likely," I agreed.
Ransom stopped his pacing, turning to face us with an expression that would have sent most men running for cover. "They used our land," he said, his voice vibrating with rage. "They tried to kill a cop. They nearly took someone Harlow cares about."
The progression of his statement wasn't lost on me—each offense building on the last, with the threat to someone Harlow cared about clearly being the most unforgivable sin in Ransom's book.
"And they're still out there," I added quietly. "Still operating. I've been gathering evidence, but carefully. If they were willing to sabotage a deputy's car once, they won't hesitate to try again."
Knox's posture had shifted subtly, the suspicion that had been directed at me now redirected toward this external threat. "You have a plan?" he asked, his tone suggesting he expected nothing less.
"The beginnings of one," I admitted. "But I was working alone. Limited resources, limited backup. And now..."
"Now what?" Ransom prompted when I trailed off.
I looked at Harlow, then back at his brothers. "Now I'm involved with someone they might consider leverage if they realize what he means to me. That changes things."
