Chapter 10 #2
“First, I discovered three people near my farthest camera. They were so wrapped up that I couldn’t identify them at all.
I’d guess grown men from their build, but there’s no way to be sure.
They turned my camera away from the creek.
I suppose they hoped I wouldn’t notice.” She scoffed, shaking her head in irritation.
“I simply headed out to that location and moved my camera to a higher point in a pine tree where they wouldn’t notice it. ”
Cole’s brows lifted. “That was risky.”
“But effective,” she snapped in return.
Their gazes held for a moment before he finally said, “What else do you have?”
She pulled up a spreadsheet with her water quality data. “You can come over here and see.”
Cole leaned over to look at her laptop screen, close enough that she could smell him… woodsy and clean, and she wanted to lean closer. Stop it. Focus.
She pointed at the graphs. "These are the baseline readings from when I first arrived, including the first six months of the study. Nitrogen, phosphates, heavy metals—all within normal ranges for a pristine mountain watershed. There is no mining in my area, and none north of here, so the water changes should be natural.”
Cole leaned in, studying the data. "And now?"
"Now they're elevated." She pulled up the recent readings. "Not dangerously high, but enough to impact the ecosystem over time. The patterns are consistent with mining runoff. Chemical processing waste, possibly from tailings pond leakage."
"Tailings pond?"
"I didn’t know about this either, but learned it when I did some checking.
It’s where they store the waste from ore processing.
It's basically a containment area for all the chemicals and heavy metals they extract along with the rare earth minerals they're actually after.
" She pulled up another browser tab, showing images from legitimate mining operations.
"When properly constructed and maintained, they're relatively safe.
But if they're cutting corners, if they're operating illegally... "
"They leak," Cole finished. "Contaminate everything downstream."
"Exactly." Janice felt the familiar anger rising in her chest.
"When did you discover this?"
"I’ve been collecting water samples for weeks, but it was only in the past couple of days that I noticed real problems." Janice wrapped both hands around her mug, as though trying to absorb its warmth.
"I didn't know the source until today. I followed the creek upstream and found their staging area this morning.
Went out on my snowmobile and followed the contamination source upstream. "
His head snapped toward her. "You went out alone? In the storm?"
"The storm was clearing." But she heard the defensiveness in her own voice. "I needed proof. And I got it."
She pulled up the photos on her camera and showed him the equipment staged in the clearing. The fuel drums. The drilling equipment. The blue tarp covering what was clearly a tailings pond.
"These coordinates," she said, pointing at the GPS data embedded in the photos, "put them miles outside their permitted operating area. Deep inside protected wilderness where they have no legal right to be."
Cole studied the images in silence, his jaw tightening with each one. When he finally spoke, his voice was carefully controlled. "This is solid evidence. GPS coordinates, photographs, water samples. You could take this to the EPA, and they'd have to investigate."
"That's the plan." Janice closed the laptop. "Or at least, it was the plan before you showed up telling me I might be in danger."
"You are in danger." Cole turned to face her fully, and she saw genuine concern in his eyes. "Charles Penson isn't some small-time operator who'll back down when caught. He's got money, connections, political protection. Men like that don't respond well to being exposed."
"So what do I do?" The question came out smaller than she'd intended, tinged with the fear she'd been trying to suppress. "Just sit here and hope they don't come after me?"
"No." Cole's expression hardened with determination. "You document everything, get it submitted to the proper authorities, and then you get somewhere safe until the investigation is underway. Somewhere they can't find you."
"I have two months left on my contract—"
"Doesn't matter. Your safety matters more than any research contract." His tone brooked no argument. "If Charles Penson finds out you've documented his illegal operation, checking on you won't be enough to keep you safe.”
Janice wanted to argue. Wanted to insist she could handle herself, that she wasn't some damsel who needed rescuing. But the memory of those men in the tavern, watching her with cold eyes, made the words die in her throat.
She was in over her head and knew it. Apparently, so did Cole Iverson. She held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay," she said quietly. "So what's the first step?"
"First, we get all your evidence compiled and ready to submit. Photos, data, water samples. Get everything organized so it's airtight." Cole pulled out his phone. "Then I call my team, and we figure out the best way to keep you safe while the authorities investigate."
Janice nodded, feeling some of the fear ease now that she wasn't facing this alone. Whatever happened next, at least she had help. Professional help from people who knew how to handle dangerous situations.
Even if that help came in the form of a too-handsome security consultant who'd broken into her cabin and brought her chocolate fudge pie.
"Thank you," she said again. "For believing me. For taking this seriously."
Cole's smile returned, softer this time. "That's what we do. Help people who need it. Even stubborn wildlife veterinarians who go out alone in snowstorms to document illegal mining operations."
Despite everything, Janice laughed. It felt good. Like releasing some of the tension that had been building for days.
"Now," Cole said, settling back onto the sofa. "Tell me everything you've found. Start from the beginning. Don't leave anything out."
So she did. She told him about the first suspicious water readings, about the boot prints near her cameras, about the men in balaclavas deliberately moving her equipment. She told him about the trip to town, the conversation with Cheryl Whitten, the mining workers watching her with hostile eyes.
And as she talked and laid out everything she'd discovered and documented, Janice felt the weight of it lift slightly. She wasn't alone anymore. Someone believed her. Someone was going to help.
Even if that someone had appeared in her life in the most unconventional way possible.