After burying my wife, I finally unlocked the barn she had never allowed me to enter. For 37 years, it had been sealed off, a place she insisted held nothing but old tools and useless clutter. I expected dust, silence, and memories long forgotten.

“Mr. Patterson,” he said finally, “I believe you. This is clearly sabotage. But the video quality is not great. And a good lawyer could argue that the person in the video is not clearly identifiable.”

“Dennis is a good lawyer,” I said bitterly.

“Exactly,” Walsh said. “Without clearer evidence, we cannot arrest him. But I will file a report, and if anything else happens, we will have this on record.”

“Anything else?” I repeated. “Brian is in the hospital with broken ribs and a concussion. What more does Dennis have to do before you can stop him?”

Walsh looked at me with tired eyes.

“I am sorry, Mr. Patterson. I really am. But my hands are tied. The law requires proof beyond a reasonable doubt, and right now we do not have that.”

I stood there staring at him, feeling completely helpless. Brian was lying in a hospital bed, and Dennis was out there free, unpunished, planning his next move.

Detective Walsh looked at me with tired eyes.

“Mr. Patterson, I believe you, but without clearer evidence, we cannot arrest him.”

Brian was in the hospital.

Dennis was free.

And I knew then that I had to protect Brian myself.

But I did not know that Dennis’s next move would nearly cost me my life, too.