Chapter 027 Calculated Risk
My office had ceased to be a place of administrative routine and had transformed into a war room of data.
To the untrained eye, the surfaces might have looked cluttered. Papers, manila files, and color-coded index cards covered my desk, the filing cabinets, and the folding table we’d dragged in from storage. But to me, it was a symphony of information waiting to be conducted.
"It’s beautiful," Cassidy said, her voice low and warm.
I looked up from the grid I was constructing. She stood beside my chair, her hand resting on the junction where my neck met my shoulder. Her thumb rubbed a slow, soothing circle against the tension there.
"It is a mess," I corrected, though I leaned into her touch. "But it is a necessary mess."
"No, I mean the way you see it." She pointed to the timeline taped across the wall, where red string connected dates to specific visitor logs. "You don't just see lists, Thokk. You see the gaps between them."
"The gaps are where the truth hides." I picked up a blue marker. "We have one hundred and seventy-three individuals recorded in town during the incident windows. That is too many variables. But if we overlay the security breaches with the hotel registry and the gift shop receipts..."
I drew a line connecting three cards.
"The list shrinks," she finished.
"Precisely."
The door to the office opened, admitting a gust of morning air and the scent of bacon. Bram and Mina entered, their arms laden with paper bags and cardboard carriers of coffee.
"Fuel for the machine," Bram announced, grinning. "And by machine, I mean my brother’s terrifyingly organized brain."
Behind them came the rest of my family. Rokk and Beth, with little Noma strapped to Beth’s back in a carrier, her small tusks poking out as she gnawed on a rubber teething ring. Garn, Vorn, Krug, and Becken followed, bringing with them the chaotic warmth that always filled a room when we were all together.
"We brought the logs from the trail rides," Vorn said, placing a stack of papers on the corner of the folding table. "And Allie checked the s-sales records."
Allie squeezed Vorn’s hand. "Everything is cross-referenced by date, just like you asked."
"Excellent." I stood, clearing a precise square foot of space on my desk for the food before turning back to the board. "Eat quickly. We have patterns to find."
For the next two hours, the office hummed with focused industry. My brothers and their mates were efficient—they knew how I worked, and they adapted to the system without complaint. We fed data into the matrix I had built: names, arrival dates, departure dates, and proximity to the luminook pens during the breaches.
"I have a cluster here," Jessi called out from the floor, where she was sorting through index cards. "A group called the 'Glow Getters'."
"The Glow Getters?" I asked, pausing in my transcription.
"Mostly older women," she said, flipping a card over. "Retirement-age humans fascinated by bioluminescence. They’ve been here for the last three incidents."
"They book the sunrise tour every time," Garn added, checking his own list. "They buy a lot of merchandise."
"Tour-tourists," Vorn muttered.
Allie groaned, but she was smiling. "That was terrible."
"Harmless," I decided, moving the 'Glow Getters' card to the discard pile on the left. "They travel in a pack and stay on the designated paths. Our intruder moves alone and knows the blind spots. Who else?"
We worked through the morning, the pile of suspects dwindling as we applied the filters of logic and opportunity. The matrix tightened. Lines of red string began to converge on a single intersection of data points.
By noon, only three names remained on the central board.
"Franklin Prescott, Andrea Wilkins, and Peter Morgan," Cassidy read aloud. She stepped closer to the board, her eyes narrowing. "They’ve been present for every major breach."
"Let’s break them down," I said, picking up the file for the first name. "Franklin Prescott. The name appears on the delivery receipts for a specialized containment cage shipped to the post office two weeks ago."
"But no hotel record," Jessi noted, tapping her laptop keys. "No credit card transactions in town under that name. No driver's license scan at the rental agency."
"A ghost," I said. "Likely a false identity created solely to receive the equipment."
"Or an accomplice we haven't found yet," Bram suggested.
"Possibly. But look at Andrea Wilkins." I pointed to the second name. "Retired biology teacher from Seattle. Seventy-two years old. Walks with a cane."
"Unlikely to be outrunning us in the dark," Cassidy said. "Scratch her."
I removed Andrea’s card. That left one.
"Peter Morgan," I said, the name tasting heavy on my tongue.
"Influencer," Mina said, wrinkling her nose as she looked at his file. "His social media is full of selfies with the landscape. 'Living my best life in the Jewel of the West', hashtag blessed."
"Look deeper," I instructed.
Cassidy pulled a sheet from the back of the file. "He has an associate’s degree in biochemistry. And before he started his travel blog, he interned at a lab in Portland."
"A lab connected to whom?" I asked, already suspecting the answer.
"Sillavar Research," Cassidy read. Her head snapped up, meeting my gaze. "The pharmaceutical company."
"The one developing bioluminescent compounds for medical imaging," I said. The pieces clicked into place with the satisfying snap of a well-oiled lock. "They don't want the luminooks for pets. They want to harvest the enzymes from the young."
A low growl rumbled in Rokk’s chest. "They want to butcher them."
"Or bleed them dry," I said, my voice cold. "Morgan fits the profile. He arrives the day before an incident. He participates in tourist activities near the target area to scout the terrain. Then the breach occurs that night."
"He’s smart," Cassidy said, staring at the photo of the smiling, blonde-haired man. "He hides in plain sight. A tourist taking pictures of the security cameras wouldn't look suspicious."
"He knows our schedule," I said. "He knows the weaning timeline. He knows that tonight is the optimal window before the young are moved to the larger pasture."
I turned to my brothers. The analytical phase was over. It was time for tactical application.
"We are going to give him exactly what he wants," I said.
I pulled a fresh sheet of graph paper and began to sketch. "Tonight, we maintain the standard patrol routes. In fact, we make them more visible. I want the cruiser driving past the perimeter every hour on the hour, lights on."
"To lull him," Bram said, nodding.
"He thinks he has mapped our gaps," I said. "So we will leave the gap he expects. We will leave the blind spot near the maintenance shed open."
"And the luminooks?" Rokk asked, his large hands clenched into fists.
"We relocate the vulnerable ones to the secure holding area in your barn immediately," I ordered. "We leave the adults in the pens as visual decoys. If he gets close enough to realize the young are gone, it will be too late."
"Where will we be?" Vorn asked.
"Here." I marked three X's in the tall grass and the drainage ditch surrounding the pens. "Hidden. Stationary. No radios, no lights. We wait until he is inside the perimeter."
My brothers nodded, the grim determination of the hunt settling over them. They filed out to prepare their gear and move the livestock, leaving the office suddenly quiet.
Only Cassidy remained.
She watched me as I organized the files into a neat stack, aligning the edges with the corner of the desk.
"You were incredible," she said softly.
I paused, my hand resting on the paper. "I was merely processing data."
"No." She walked around the desk and stepped into my space, her presence a warm disruption to my order. "You took chaos and turned it into a trap. You protect this town, Thokk. Not just with your strength, but with this." She tapped my temple.
"I protect it because you are in it," I admitted, my voice dropping to a rumble.
I reached out, taking her hand. My thumb brushed the golden mark on her wrist, the symbol of our bond. It hummed against my skin, a sensation of heat and belonging that defied any chart or graph.
"We’re going to catch him," she said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes. The probability is near one hundred percent."
She smiled, that small, private smile that she saved only for me. "I love it when you talk statistics."
"And I love that you do not find my methods tedious."
"You don't disrupt my systems, Thokk," she whispered, echoing a thought I had held for weeks. "You make them better."
I pulled her closer, wrapping my arms around her waist. She felt solid and right against me. The nightmare of the Blainsworth brothers was over; she was free. And soon, the threat to the luminooks would be neutralized.
"Let’s finish this case," I murmured against her hair, inhaling the scent of honey and wildflowers. "Then we can celebrate. Properly."
"Is that a promise, Sheriff?"
"It is a guarantee."
I kissed her then, a slow, deep press of lips that sealed the vow. The sun was setting outside the window, painting the office in stripes of amber and gold, but I didn't look at the clock. For this one moment, I let the schedule slide.
Then I pulled back, the soldier replacing the lover.
"Let's go," I said. "We have a trap to spring."