Brianna’s fingers rested against Kodiak’s harness.
Hidden beneath the fabric, a tiny camera was already recording.
She had installed it weeks earlier because Kodiak noticed things she sometimes couldn’t.
Doors left open.
Shadows near her property.
Vehicles passing her cabin twice in one night.
Now the lens was pointed directly at Rusk.
Kodiak shifted once.
His shoulder brushed the sheriff’s boot.
Rusk’s face hardened.
“Did you see that?”
Nobody answered.
Then his boot drove into Kodiak’s side.
The dog struck the booth support with a wounded sound.
The entire diner froze.
Brianna stood.
Slowly.
Kodiak remained down, breathing hard, eyes fixed on her.
Waiting.
Rusk looked pleased.
“Control your animal.”
Something inside Brianna went cold.
Not angry.
Precise.
“Kick my dog again,” she said, “and your whole department goes down on camera.”
Rusk’s smile disappeared.
He didn’t know where the camera was.
He didn’t know the footage was transmitting.
And he had no idea someone outside Ashford Ridge had already received the first thirty seconds.
For the first time, uncertainty entered his face.
