Heat crawled up his neck. Caught. "I couldn't sleep. I was worried after what we discussed. So, I drove by. Just to check."
"Just to check." Her voice was very quiet. "After I specifically told you to wait until eight."
"I didn't come onto the property. I just drove the perimeter road."
"The perimeter road that runs along our fence line?" Her jaw tightened. "That's still our property, Andre."
He had no defense. She was right. He'd known it was wrong when he did it, but his bear's need to verify her safety had overridden sense.
"I'm sorry." The words tasted bitter. Apologizing for protecting someone felt fundamentally wrong. "It won't happen again."
Joy studied him for another long moment. He could see her debating whether to send him away. His bear held its breath.
"Come on," she said finally. "We're wasting time."
She turned and walked through the gate. Andre followed, noting that she made him leave the patrol car outside. A clear message.
The walk to her area took ten minutes. Joy led the way along a dirt track, pointing out landmarks. The main barn where she milked her goats. The equipment shed she shared with cousins. Apple trees her great-grandmother had planted.
Andre's bear catalogued everything. Entry points. Sight lines. Natural barriers. The workshop sat in a clearing, partially hidden by the apple trees. Smart placement. Her tiny house perched on a rise overlooking the bee yard.
"You built all this yourself?" He couldn't hide his admiration.
"The house, yes. My family helped." Pride crept into her voice. "For the workshop, I hired a professional crew.”
She led him past the workshop toward the bee yard. Twenty-four hives stood in neat rows, already humming with activity. Joy stopped beside one of the affected hives.
"This is where I found the entrance reducers moved." She pointed to the small wooden pieces at each hive entrance. "Three of them shifted, one completely removed and thrown in the grass."
Andre crouched beside the hive, studying the entrance. The reducer was back in place now, but he could see how easily someone could disturb it. "When did you notice?"
"Thursday. Morning rounds." She moved to the next hive. "These two also had theirs loosened. Could have been a curious raccoon."
Andre stood, scanning the bee yard. His bear snarled at the thought of someone creeping through here in the darkness, touching things that belonged to his mate. "And the gate latch?"
"This way." Joy led him back toward the main barn. "I milk the goats here every morning. That day, the motion-sensor light was loose in its socket. The gate latch was stubborn, and it took extra jiggling to open."
She demonstrated the latch, which worked smoothly now. "I fixed it myself. Probably just wear and tear."
"Three separate incidents in one morning?" Andre's voice dropped. "That's not coincidence."
"It's minor stuff. Could be weather, animals, equipment aging." Joy's tone suggested she was repeating this to convince herself as much as him. "Nothing was stolen or destroyed."
"Yet." The word came out sharper than intended.
Joy's eyes narrowed. "I'm aware of what's been happening around town. But a few moved bee reducers aren't the same as burning down an orchard."
"It's how it starts." Andre pulled out his tablet, unable to stop himself. "Small tests. Checking response times, security measures. Then escalation."
"You don't know that's what this is."
"I have the equipment in my truck." The words tumbled out. "I can install it now.”
Joy's body language shifted immediately. Arms crossed, weight back. Walls going up.
"Let me show you the specs." He swiped through screens on his phone. "Full coverage of vulnerable areas. Phone alerts for any movement. You'd know instantly if anyone approached."
She listened without comment while he explained the system. The more he talked, the tighter her expression became.
