"I know my trees." Thornak's fingers trace the weathered surface. "But look at this—it's been left out in the rain. Waterlogged. Makes it weak."
My stomach drops. "Someone stole lumber from your land, let it deteriorate, then sold it as quality materials."
"And Garron bought it." Thornak's voice turns deadly quiet.
I nod grimly. "Listen, Thornak, there's something you should know. Garron has sourced a new supplier. A guy by the name of Selwyn. I think… I think Selwyn has been stealing your lumber and selling compromised materials to Garron."
Thornak stands abruptly, the broken beam still clutched in his fist. His eyes scan the festival square until they lock onto a stocky figure working on a half-finished vendor stall near the fountain.
"Garron!"
The carpenter looks up from his hammer work, squinting in our direction. When he recognizes Thornak's approach, his expression shifts to wariness.
"You sold my stolen lumber to this boy!" Thornak's voice carries across the square, drawing stares from everyone within earshot.
Garron drops his hammer, hands raising defensively. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"This." Thornak shoves the broken beam toward Garron's face. "Timber from my land, left to rot, then passed off as quality materials. Nearly killed Timmy when it failed."
"I don't know what you're?—"
"Don't lie to me!" Thornak's control snaps. He grabs Garron's shirt, hauling the smaller man forward. "You've been buying stolen goods and selling them to kids!"
The familiar escalation sends ice through my veins. This is exactly how my last case spiraled—accusations flying, tempers exploding, civilians caught in the middle while the real perpetrator stays hidden.
I step between them, hands on Thornak's shoulders. "Easy. This isn't how we handle it."
"Get off me!" Thornak shoves against my grip, but I hold firm.
"Thornak, stop. Garron's not the enemy here—he's another victim."
Thornak's muscles coil tighter under my grip, rage radiating from him like heat from a forge. "You think I care if he's a victim? Look at this wood!" He waves the broken beam inches from Garron's face. "Any carpenter worth his tools would know this timber's compromised. But he used it anyway!"
"Thornak—"
"He knew!" Thornak's voice cracks across the square like a whip. "Waterlogged, weak, stolen from my land, and he sold it to a kid who could've died when it snapped!"
Garron scrambles backward on his hands, eyes wide. "I didn't know it was stolen! Selwyn said it was surplus?—"
"Surplus?" Thornak lunges forward again, and I have to throw my full weight against him. "You've been working wood for thirty years, Pike. You telling me you couldn't see the rot?"
The accusation hangs in the air like smoke. Garron's face flushes red, then pale, his mouth opening and closing without sound.
"Maybe I... the price was good, and with festival orders?—"
"Get off me!" Thornak shoves against my restraining hands with enough force to make my boots slide on the cobblestones. "I'm done listening to excuses from someone who puts profit over safety!"
"Thornak, stop." I plant my feet and use every ounce of leverage I possess. "Making a scene won't fix what happened."
Around us, the festival square has transformed into an amphitheater. Mrs. Dalloway clutches her watering can like a weapon. Timmy stands frozen beside the wreckage, his face pale.
"Everyone's watching," I murmur, tightening my grip on Thornak's shoulders. "Go cool off before you say something that makes this worse."
Thornak's eyes sweep the gathered crowd, taking in their shocked faces and whispered conversations. His jaw works silently for several heartbeats before he throws the broken beam at Garron's feet.
"This isn't over, Pike."
He stalks away toward the forest road, his heavy boots echoing off the cobblestones like hammer strikes. The crowd parts before him, nobody brave enough to meet his burning gaze.
