Chapter 12 — Forest Keeper

Nguyen returned to the station on Sunday afternoon, one day earlier than originally planned. As soon as he got out of the car, he immediately looked for Khue. His face still looked tired from the long trip, but his eyes were filled with worry and impatiently wanting to know the details of what she had texted the night before.

They found a discreet corner behind the rescue barn, where the animals' cries were enough to drown out their voices if someone happened to pass by. Khue recounted everything she discovered in the archive room — her father's unfinished report, the notes about the secret meeting with "Mr. L.", and the disturbing details about Loc becoming the interim administrator shortly after her father's death.

Nguyen listened attentively, occasionally asking questions to clarify more details, his face gradually becoming serious. "So you suspect Loc is directly involved in your father's death?"

"I don't dare confirm that," Khue replied, his voice cautious even though doubts still swirled in his heart. "But at least, he knew about the 'important discovery' my father reported, and had not mentioned this to me for the past eight years, even when I asked directly about the old file. It was a deliberate silence."

"We need to find a way to verify more before confronting him directly," Nguyen said, his voice considering. "If you ask directly now without enough evidence, he may be even more cautious, even trying to erase the remaining traces."

Khue nodded, agreeing with his caution, even though inside she was anxious to get an answer immediately. "I think I should go back to see Uncle Chinh again. He has begun to reveal part of the truth, perhaps with this more specific information, he will be willing to say more."

Before leaving, Khue sat for a while next to Nau's cage, watching the baby langur engrossed in gnawing on a branch of young leaves, completely indifferent to the turmoil going on in the heart of the person who saved its life. She thought about the fact that, in just one week, Mun would have her wing braces removed to check whether she could practice flying again or not, and that the flock of langurs in the tree canopy the day before, maybe some of them would become Nau's new family in the future. Those small pieces of life, even though they know nothing about the conspiracies and secrets that are gradually being revealed, continue to grow and continue to live, as a reminder that no matter how cruel the truth is, this forest still has things worth preserving, worth fighting for.

She stood up, put on a thin windbreaker in case it got windy, then set out for Mr. Chinh's house, carrying both determination and vague fear about what she was about to hear.

That afternoon, Khue alone went to Mr. Chinh's house, this time without warning to avoid giving him time to mentally prepare to avoid him like before. She found him sitting and fixing the leaky roof after the heavy rain a few days ago, his sleeves rolled up, sweat beading on his forehead even though the weather was not too hot.

"It's Khue, come inside and sit down," he said, climbing down from the bamboo ladder and brushing his hands on his dirty clothes.

"Uncle Chinh, I found my father's report in the station's archives," Khue said directly, without beating around the bush, her eyes looking straight at him with a determination she had never shown so clearly in previous meetings. "I know my father had a secret meeting with Mr. Loc, just a few days before he passed away. Do you know what that meeting was about?"

Mr. Chinh stood still, his face visibly pale. He looked around, even though there was no one else around except the two of them, then signaled Khue to go inside and close the door carefully, an action that was completely different from the open and comfortable attitude he had shown outdoors before.

"You found all that," he said, his voice trembling, sitting down on a wooden chair in the house, holding his head in his hands. "I was hoping it would have been canceled a long time ago."

"I know about that meeting," Khue said, not a question but an affirmation, her voice trembling with emotion and nervousness.

Mr. Chinh raised his head, his eyes red, looking at Khue with a pain she had never seen in him before. "I wasn't present at that meeting, Khue. But your father told me about it later, because he and I were best friends and didn't hide anything from each other. He said he reported to Mr. Loc about the large illegal timber yard he discovered, about the suspicion of district officials helping, and asked Loc to help him send the report directly to the provincial police, not through the district's usual channels for fear of the information being leaked."

"So how did Mr. Loc react?" Khue asked, her voice choked.

"My father said Loc showed support and promised to help arrange contact with an acquaintance from the provincial police," Mr. Chinh continued, his voice trembling as if he was trying very hard to say things that had been buried for eight years. "But just three days later, my father passed away."

The small room was filled with heavy silence, with only the sound of the wall clock ticking steadily and the sound of the wind blowing through the door. Khue felt her mind spinning, trying to rearrange all the information she had just heard into a logical sequence, but everything was still too vague, too many possibilities.

"Do you think Mr. Loc betrayed my father? He informed someone, putting my father in danger?" Khue asked directly, even though he knew this question was too heavy and too direct.

Mr. Chinh was silent for a long time, his shoulders shaking as if he was trying to suppress a strong emotion. "I don't know, Khue. I really don't know. I've asked myself that question countless times over the past eight years. Loc is a good person, at least I used to think so. But after your father died, he changed a lot - quieter, more startled, there were nights when I saw his room light on until late. I didn't dare ask directly, because I was also afraid, afraid that if I asked the truth, I would have to face even more terrible things."

"Why didn't you tell the police what you knew for the past eight years?" Khue asked, unable to hide the frustration in her voice even though she partly understood his fear.

Mr. Chinh burst into tears, rare tears of a man in his sixties who had gone through many ups and downs in life. "I'm a coward, Khue. I'm sorry. I have a family, children and grandchildren, I'm afraid if I speak up without enough evidence, I will only put myself and my family in danger, without changing anything, without bringing justice to your father. I lived with that torment for eight years, every day wondering if I should speak out, but then I was afraid and kept silent."

Khue looked at Mr. Chinh, the anger in her heart gradually subsided, giving way to a complex sympathy. She understood, though she could not completely forgive, the fear that the average person faced when they knew they were in contact with a dangerous force far beyond the capabilities of a single individual.

"I don't blame you," she said, her voice softening, even though her mind was still confused. "But now, I need you to help me. I need you to testify, when the right time comes, to bring the truth to light."

Mr. Chinh wiped his tears, looked at Khue for a long time, then nodded, a slow but determined nod, as if he had just relieved part of the burden that had weighed heavily on his shoulders for the past eight years. "I will help you, Khue. It's time for me to do the right thing, no matter how late. I owe that to your father."

Before leaving, Mr. Chinh called Khue back, his voice still shaking but much steadier than at the beginning of the story. "There's one more thing, Khue. I remember, a few months after your father's funeral, one time I happened to meet Loc drinking alone at a small restaurant in the town, drunk. He kept saying something, I couldn't hear it clearly, I only vaguely remember mentioning 'if I had been tougher that day, it wouldn't have been so bad'. At that time I didn't dare to ask more, afraid he would wake up and regret saying the wrong thing. But now that I think about it, I believe that sentence had something to do with the story. của bố cháu."

That detail made Khue believe more that Loc was not the direct mastermind, but perhaps someone who was put in a situation where he was forced to stay silent, or made a wrong choice in a moment of weakness for which he had to pay the price of torment for the next eight years. But whatever the motive, the truth remains the same: he knew, and chose not to say.

When Khue left Mr. Chinh's house, it was already afternoon, pale yellow sunlight filtered through the trees along the road, creating shimmering streaks of light on the ground. She walked slowly, letting her mind calm down after the emotional conversation she had just had. Although she still has no final answer about Ma Van Loc's true role in her father's death, she has taken an important step forward — with one more witness willing to speak out, and an increasingly clearer picture of what really happened eight years ago on top of Pu Cai, on that fateful rainy night.

Arriving at the station, she saw Nguyen waiting outside in the yard, with a clearly impatient look on his face. She recounted the entire conversation to him, every detail, her voice monotonous as if trying to keep herself from being swept away by her emotions again.

"So Mr. Chinh agrees to testify," Nguyen said, his voice mixed with relief and seriousness. "That's a big step forward, Khue. But we still need more physical evidence, something irrefutable, for his testimony to have enough weight before the law."

"I know," Khue replied, looking towards the distant peak of Pu Cai, disappearing in the twilight. "And I think I know where to start looking."