Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Ava
"Stop fidgeting with your hair. It looks fine."
I drop my hand from where I've been nervously tucking the same strand behind my ear for the fifth time in as many minutes. Rachel is watching me from across the small backstage area of Parkerville's town hall, her expression somewhere between amused and sympathetic.
"Breathe, Ava. You've done this before. You've presented research findings dozens of times."
"To academic audiences who care about methodology and peer review.
Not to news cameras and a town full of people who are going to be really angry when they find out a major corporation has been poisoning them.
" I glance at the mirror, taking in my appearance.
Professional but approachable, Rachel had suggested.
I picked a navy blazer, cream blouse, and minimal jewelry.
I look like I'm about to defend a dissertation, not expose corporate fraud.
"That anger isn't going to be directed at you.
You're giving them answers, evidence, and most importantly a way to fight back.
" Rachel adjusts my collar slightly. "You're not doing this alone.
Sheriff Matthews goes first, establishes the official discovery.
Then you present the scientific evidence. "
"What if they ask questions I can't answer? What if EnvironTech's lawyers are there and they try to discredit me?"
"Then you stick to the facts. The data speaks for itself." She squeezes my shoulders. "You're ready for this, Ava. Trust yourself."
A knock on the door interrupts us, and Hunter steps in. He's dressed more formally than I'm used to seeing him in dark jeans, a button-down shirt, his hair neatly combed. But it's his eyes that catch me, the mix of pride and concern I see there.
"Five minutes," he says. "How are you holding up?"
Rachel answers before I can. "She'll be fine once she gets out there."
Hunter crosses the room and takes my hands. "You don't have to do this if you're not ready. Matthews can present everything. The EPA report speaks for itself."
"No." I shake my head firmly. "This is my research. My findings. I need to be the one to present it." I take a deep breath. "I'm just nervous."
"Good. It’ll give you an edge." He kisses my forehead. "Remember what we practiced. Keep it factual, cite your sources, don't speculate beyond what the data shows. If someone asks something you can't answer, say so."
"What if EnvironTech tries to attack my credentials or my methodology?"
"Then Lydia steps in. That's why she's here." He cups my face gently. "Remember, they can't attack the data. You've been meticulous. Every sample is documented, every test is reproducible. They can try to discredit you, but the science is solid."
Rachel's phone buzzes. "Matthews is about to start. We should get into position."
Hunter keeps hold of my hand as we move toward the stage entrance.
Through the curtain, I can hear the murmur of the crowd gathering in the town hall's main auditorium.
I peek out and my stomach drops. The room is packed.
Every seat filled, people standing along the walls, news cameras set up in the back.
"That's a lot of people," I whisper.
"Most of Parkerville turned out," Rachel says, checking her phone. "Plus reporters from Asheville, Charlotte, and Raleigh. One of the national environmental blogs sent someone too."
"No pressure or anything."
Hunter squeezes my hand. "You've got this. I'll be right here the whole time."
Sheriff Matthews is already on stage, standing behind the podium. He looks every inch the competent law enforcement official with his uniform pressed, wearing a serious expression. He has a stack of official-looking documents in front of him.
The room quiets as he begins to speak.
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice.
Yesterday morning, my office received a report of suspicious activity at the old EnvironTech facility north of town.
Acting on that report, I conducted a wellness check of the area.
" He pauses, letting the silence build. "What I discovered was deeply disturbing. "
He clicks to the first slide. It shows a photograph of the barrel storage area, clear evidence of leakage and environmental damage.
"The facility, which EnvironTech has claimed has been shut down for fifteen years, is actively operating. I documented evidence of recent industrial activity, including dozens of barrels containing toxic waste, many of which show signs of leakage into the surrounding soil and groundwater."
An angry murmur runs through the crowd. Matthews holds up a hand for quiet.
"I immediately contacted the North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality and the Environmental Protection Agency.
Both agencies have opened formal investigations into EnvironTech's operations.
" He pauses again. "But the contamination isn't limited to the facility itself.
It's affecting the entire watershed, including Parkerville's water supply. "
The murmuring gets louder, more agitated. I see people turning to their neighbors, shock and anger written on their faces.
"To help us understand the full scope of this contamination, I've asked Dr. Ava Sinclair to present her findings.
Dr. Sinclair is an environmental researcher from Clemson University who's been conducting a study of this area for the past month.
Her research is what led us to identify EnvironTech as the source of the pollution. Dr. Sinclair?"
That's my cue. Hunter gives my hand one last squeeze, and I walk onto the stage on legs that feel steadier than I expected.
The crowd is a sea of faces. Some feel familiar from my time in Parkerville, most are strangers.
I spot Caleb and Rachel's friends in the third row.
Ethan is standing near the back, partially hidden by the crowd.
And there, off to the side, I see Lydia Reeves in her sharp suit, ready to intervene if needed.
I step up to the podium and connect my laptop to the projector. My hands are shaking slightly, but I force them steady as I pull up my first slide.
"Thank you, Sheriff Matthews. Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Dr. Ava Sinclair, and for the past four weeks, I've been conducting an environmental assessment of the Willow Creek watershed area."
I click to the next slide with my credentials, and my academic background to establish authority.
"What began as a study of unusual plant mutations quickly became something much more serious.
I started documenting contamination levels that far exceeded anything I'd encountered in my previous research.
" The next slide has some of the mutation photographs.
"These aren't natural variations. They're the direct result of toxic chemical exposure. "
I walk them through the evidence. Water samples showing contamination. Soil analyses proving synthetic chemicals. The pattern of pollution spreading from a centralized source. I show them my maps, my data charts, my photographic evidence.
"Working with local land management officials and other researchers, I was able to trace the contamination to its source.
" I pull up the photographs from the EnvironTech facility.
"These barrels contain industrial solvents, heavy metals, and other toxic compounds.
Many are corroded and leaking. And this facility, which should have been dormant for fifteen years, shows clear signs of recent activity. "
A hand shoots up from the audience. It’s a woman in her forties with two kids sitting beside her. "How dangerous is this? Should we be worried about our drinking water?"
It's the question I knew was coming, the one I've been dreading because the honest answer is going to scare people.
"Yes," I say simply. "The contamination has reached concerning levels in multiple water sources. I don't want to cause panic, but I do recommend using bottled water until the state environmental agency can complete their own testing and provide official guidance."
The room erupts. People are on their feet, shouting questions, demanding answers. Matthews steps up beside me, calling for order.
"Please, everyone calm down. We're working with state and federal agencies to address this immediately. The town will be providing bottled water at the community center starting today?—"
"How long has this been going on?" A man near the front interrupts. "How long has EnvironTech been poisoning us?"
I glance at Matthews, who nods for me to answer.
"Based on the contamination patterns and accumulation rates, I estimate this has been occurring for at least five years. Possibly longer."
More shouting. More anger. I don't blame them. If someone told me my water had been poisoned for half a decade, I'd be furious too.
A reporter in the back raises her hand. "Dr. Sinclair, you mentioned working with local land management. Can you be more specific about who funded this research?"
It's a pointed question, and I recognize the reporter. Susan White from the Charlotte Observer. She's smart and thorough, which means she's already done her homework.
"My research was funded through my position at Clemson University. I had assistance from local residents who were concerned about environmental changes in the area, but no corporate or government funding."
"Local residents meaning the Willow Creek community?" Another reporter, this one with a camera crew. "The same community that's been notoriously closed-off to outsiders for generations?"
I feel the atmosphere in the room shift slightly. This is what Hunter warned me about. Questions that probe too close to pack secrets.
"I worked with several residents who had hands-on knowledge of the local ecosystem," I say carefully. "Their observations about changes in wildlife behavior and plant health were invaluable to my research."