The cleanup took hours, and by the time I got back home, the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. The federal government seized the money and the drugs, but they didn’t leave me empty-handed. Because the discovery led to the seizure of millions in assets, I was eligible for a whistleblower reward.
The two suspects were eventually linked to a string of violent crimes and are currently serving life sentences without the possibility of parole. Their “masking agent” had been their undoing, failing to account for the curiosity of a farm cat with a nose for expensive chemicals.
I used a portion of the reward money to install a state-of-the-art security system and a brand new fence around the property. I also made sure Max received the highest quality salmon for the rest of his life. He still looks at the treeline sometimes, but I keep the cat door locked at night now.
My neighbors still ask me why I have so many cameras and why the feds were at my house that summer. I just tell them that Max is a very talented hunter who caught something much bigger than a mouse. Some people find gold at the end of a rainbow; I found a crime ring at the end of a cat’s nose.
Life on the farm is quiet again, just the way I like it. I still keep one of those soggy dollar bills—the very first one—framed in my hallway as a reminder. It’s a reminder that justice can come from the most unlikely places, even from the wet teeth of a tabby cat.
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