He could wait a little longer to do it right. Besides, Trent continued, “Dealing cards with steady hands. Cassidy won’t press charges. She knows what happens to people who cross me. And even if she did, Timmons will make sure it disappears.” in a paperwork hell. What about her father? Garrett asked. Harry Kane’s got a reputation.

Word is he’s not the kind of man who forgives and forgets. Harry Kane is a broken down oil worker with a drinking problem. Trent said dismissively. He makes noise. I’ll have Rafe pay him a visit. Problem solved. Rafe cracked his knuckles. Love to have a conversation with the old man here. He thinks he’s tough.

Focus on the current problems. The stranger interrupted. I’ve got money coming in from three states and I need to know this operation is stable. Can you guarantee that? Absolutely. Trent said this town belongs to me. Has for years. One pregnant woman and her daddy aren’t going to change that. Harry had heard enough.

He melted back into the forest and made his way to his truck. Mind already working on the next phase of his plan. Trent was arrogant, overconfident, and convinced of his own invincibility. Those were weaknesses Harry could exploit. But first, he needed to plant some seeds of doubt. The next morning, Harry met Delmare at the garage just after sunrise.

The mechanic was already three cups of coffee deep and working on a transmission that looked like it had been through a war. Find anything useful at the cabin? Delmare asked without looking up from his work. Plenty. Trent’s running scared, but he’s trying not to show it. Rafe gunner is his main muscle.

Dave Gar is taking money to look the other way. And they’re expecting the new sheriff to either join the program or get run out of town. What’s the move? First, we isolate him, make him paranoid, turn his own people against him. Harry pulled out a scrap of paper with notes he’d made during the night. You still got that tow truck, old Bertha? She runs like a dream.

Why? I want you to disable trench truck, but make it look like mechanical failure. Nothing obvious, nothing that screams sabotage. Can you do that? Delmare wiped his hands on a rag, grinning. Harry, I can make a truck break down in ways that would take a team of engineers to figure out when and where.

He drives to the casino in Billings every Tuesday night. Takes Highway 89 through Miller Canyon. That’s 20 m of empty road with no cell service. Consider it done. What else? I need you to spread a rumor. Trent’s bookie in Billings is skimming money from his operation. Make it sound like you heard it from someone reliable, someone with connections to the gambling world. That’s easy enough.

Half the guys who come through here have gambling debts. I’ll drop the rumor with Bobby Martinez. He owes money to three different bookies and has a mouth like a broken faucet. Harry’s next stop was the copper mine in where June was preparing for the lunch rush. The bar was empty except for one old-timer nursing a beer and reading a newspaper that was probably 3 days old. Morning June.

Harry, you look like a man with a plan. Getting there. I need a favor. Name it. Tonight, when Trent comes in for his regular drinks, I want you to mention that you heard his Billings bookie has been bragging about how easy it is to skim money from small town operators. June raised an eyebrow.

You want to make him paranoid about his business partners. Paranoid people make mistakes. Mistakes create opportunities. I can do that. Trent’s always been suspicious about money anyway. Won’t take much to push him over the edge. She leaned against the bar. What else? I need to know his routine. When he comes and goes, who he meets with where he feels safe.

He’s here most nights from 8 to 11:00. Drinks whiskey, plays pool, tries to hit on anything female that walks through the door. Thursdays he meets with his lone shark clients in the back room. Sundays he usually brings Rafe and they talk business. Guards, just Rafe and only sometimes. Trent thinks he’s untouchable in public.

Figures nobody would be stupid enough to confront him in a crowded bar. Harry smiled grimly. Good. Keep me posted on any changes to his routine. We’ll do. And Harry, when you’re ready to make your move, give me a heads up. I’d hate to miss the show. The final stop was Marshall’s trailer, where Harry found the ex-soldier doing push-ups in his small living room.

Marshall finished his set and stood barely breathing hard despite having just done 50 perfect repetitions. Morning, Mr. Kane. What’s the word? Time to put your undercover skills to work. I need you to get close to Trent’s operation. Find out who his contacts are and how the money flows. Any particular angle? Play the broken veteran.

You’ve got gambling debts. Need quick cash. Her Trent might have work for someone with military experience. Make yourself useful but not threatening. Marshall nodded. Classic infiltration. Get close. Gather intelligence. Stay invisible until the moment of action. Exactly. But be careful.

Rafe gunner is ex-military, too. And he’s got killer instincts. If he suspects you’re not what you seem, things could get violent fast. I can handle myself. I know you can. That’s why I’m asking. Harry spent the rest of the day visiting Cassidy and Lydia at the hospital, playing grandfather while his mind worked through the tactical aspects of destroying Trent Huxley.

This wasn’t just about revenge. It was about removing a cancer from the community and protecting his family from future threats. That evening, he positioned himself across the street from the copper mine in with a pair of binoculars and a thermos of coffee. At 8:15, Trent’s black pickup truck pulled into the parking lot.

Harry watched through the window as Trent took his usual spot at the bar and ordered his usual whiskey. June played her part perfectly. She served Trent his drink, made small talk about the weather, then casually mentioned that her cousin, who worked at the Billings Casino, had been bragging about how some bookies were getting rich by skimming from their rural clients.

Even from across the street, Harry could see Trent’s reaction. The man’s entire body went rigid and he started asking June rapid fire questions. She played dumb, acted like she didn’t understand why he was so interested, which only made him more agitated to be. By the time Trent left an hour later, he was drunk, angry, and convinced that someone was stealing from him.

Harry followed at a distance as Trent drove erratically back to his cabin, cell phone pressed to his ear, probably calling his Billings contact to demand an accounting. The first seed was planted. Now it was time to water it and watch it grow point 3 days later. Delmare’s mechanical sabotage paid dividends. Trench truck died exactly where Harry had predicted halfway through Miller Canyon, 20 m from a nearest town and completely out of cell phone range.

It took four hours for another driver to come along and offer help. And by the time Trent made it back to town, he was sunburned, furious, and convinced the world was conspiring against him. Harry heard about it from June, who reported that Trent had spent the evening drinking heavily and ranting about his mechanical problems to anyone who would listen.

“He’s starting to crack,” June said. Keeps looking over his shoulder, jumping at shadows. Yesterday, he accused Dave Garrett of recording their conversations. Poor Dave was so rattled he spilled beer all over himself. Good. Paranoid people make mistakes. What’s the next move? Time to turn up the heat. Harry’s next call was to an old contact from his oil rig days, Jimmy Costanos, who now ran a small gambling operation out of Callispel.

Jimmy owed Harry a favor from 10 years ago when Harry had covered his medical bills after a rig accident left him with a broken back and no insurance. Jimmy, it’s Harry Kane. Harry Jesus, it’s been years. How you been, Hermono? Been better. I need a favor. Name it. You save my ass when nobody else would help.

There’s a man named Trent Huxley running an illegal betting ring in Bosezeman. He’s convinced his Billings bookie is skimming from him. I want you to call some of your competitors. Tell them there’s easy money to be made if they can drive Trent out of business. You want to start a turf war. I want to make Trent’s life complicated.

Can you do it? Consider it done. I know three outfits that would love to move into new territory. They hear about some small town operator who’s got heat with his suppliers. They’ll circle like vultures. Thanks, Jimmy. I owe you. No, man. We’re even now. Within 48 hours, the results were visible. Strange cars started cruising past Tren’s cabin.

Phone calls came at all hours. Two of his regular clients got approached by representatives from competing gambling operations, offering better odds and lower interest rates. Marshall, now successfully embedded as muscle for hire in Trent’s organization, reported that the man was barely sleeping and had started carrying a gun everywhere.

He’s convinced someone’s trying to move in on his territory, Marshall said during a brief meeting at the hospital. Race got him spooked about potential threats and he’s seeing enemies everywhere. How close are you to his inner circle? Close enough. He’s got me doing collections with Rafe.

Thinks I’m just another broken vet who needs the money, but I’m learning plenty about how the operation works. Good. What about his finances? Hurting. The competition is cutting into his profits and he’s spending money on extra security that he can’t afford. Plus, he’s been making trips to Billings every few days to argue with his bookie face to face. Harry smiled.

Financial pressure combined with paranoia was a dangerous combination. Desperate people did stupid things. There’s something else. Marshall continued. Overheard him talking to Rafe about your daughter. He’s planning something. Harry’s expression went cold. What kind of something? Didn’t get details, but it sounded like he wants to use Cassidy and the kids as leverage.

Thinks if he can threaten them, you’ll back off and let him rebuild his operation in peace. That would be a mistake on his part. Major mistake, but it means we need to move faster. If he gets desperate enough to go after civilians, he won’t get the chance. Harry was already calculating timelines, figuring out how to accelerate his plans without making critical errors.

How long until the new sheriff arrives? 5 days. Word is he’s bringing a state investigation team with him. Going to audit the entire department, review all the corruption complaint from the past 2 years. Perfect. Time to give them something to investigate. Harry spent that evening making phone calls to contacts across three states.

Oil rig work created a network of hard men who owed each other favors and Harry had been collecting IUs for 30 years. By midnight, he had commitments from a reporter in Helena who specialized in exposing smalltown corruption, a state gaming commission investigator who’d been looking for an excuse to audit rural gambling operations, and a federal agent who tracked money laundering in the mountain states.

The net was closing, but Harry needed one more element to make it perfect. But Marshall’s next report came 2 days later, and it changed everything. Trent lost it, the ex-soldier said, his face grim. He’s convinced you’re orchestrating everything that’s been happening. The mechanical problems, the competition, the financial pressure. He thinks you’re some kind of criminal mastermind pulling strings behind the scenes.

What’s his plan? He wants to kidnap Lydia. Harry’s blood turned to ice. Explain. Figures if he grabs your granddaughter, he can force you to back off and call off whatever operation he thinks you’re running. Rafe thinks it’s a bad idea, but Trent’s not listening to reason anymore. when tomorrow morning. Lydia is supposed to start back at school, right? Trent knows the route she takes.