Ren Frost's Arc

Chapter 10 of 13

Ren drove home with the affidavit still folded in her coat. By the time she reached the gate, a scrap of paper was tucked into the latch. Elegant handwriting. A time, a place, a single line: I saw what he did. Meet me at the old shed past the ridge. She read it twice and showed Jason without a word. They hiked to the rusted shed at dusk. A stranger waited by the padlocked hatch, breath shaking. He slid a worn manila envelope into Ren's hands. Photographs. Snares, cages, dates. Proof. "This is mine," he said. "I worked for him. If I testify, they'll know I helped set every one of those traps. I lose this shed. I lose everything I kept hidden inside it." Ren looked at the photos and felt her case rise from the snow. "I'll go to court myself," she said on the walk back. "No lawyer. No deed transfer. Just me and the envelope." Jason was quiet for a long stretch. Then his radio crackled. A fire line two valleys over. Forestry crew short. Mandatory call-out. He listened, jaw tight. "I have to go," he said. "Tonight." Ren stopped in the snow. "Court is in two days." "I know." "You said together." "I know what I said." He didn't dress it up. He didn't promise. He just looked at her, then past her, already gone in the way that mattered. "I'll get back if I can." If. The word sat between them like a dropped stone. She watched his truck pull away before midnight. Inside the cabin, the envelope lay on the table beside the unsigned affidavit. She had a witness. She had a plan. She would stand in that courtroom alone. But the chair across from her was empty again, and this time he had chosen the leaving. Christmas was three days out, and whatever they had rebuilt was cracked straight down the middle.