Chapter 23
Across the creek, maybe fifty yards away, a bear stood on the opposite bank, its massive head lifted as it tested the air. The animal was enormous, with silver-tipped fur rippling across its shoulders that spoke of raw, terrifying power.
Cole's hand instinctively moved toward his firearm, then stopped. He knew better. A handgun would only enrage a creature that size and turn a tense standoff into a deadly charge. Even his training, all those years of combat experience, meant nothing against eight hundred pounds of muscle and claws.
"It's a grizzly," Janice whispered beside him. "Female, from the size. Probably just came out of her den."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Bad. She'll be hungry and irritable. Don't run. Whatever you do, don't run."
Every protective instinct in Cole's body screamed at him to put himself between Janice and the threat, to do something, anything. But he forced himself to remain still, trusting her expertise even as his muscles coiled with the desperate need to act.
The bear swung its head in their direction, small eyes fixing on them with an intelligence that made Cole's gut tighten. For a long moment, nothing moved. The forest held its breath. Snow drifted down from the wind blowing through the trees.
Cole found Janice's hand, his fingers interlacing with hers. Partly to ensure they moved together if needed. Partly because if something went wrong in the next few seconds, he wanted to be touching her. Wanted that connection, that anchor.
The bear huffed, a sound that carried clearly across the frozen creek.
Cole's jaw clenched, his body tensing for a charge that would be impossible to outrun.
He calculated distances, angles, and options but came up with nothing.
If that bear decided to come for them, there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it.
The helplessness was maddening.
Then the grizzly dropped its head, sniffing at something on the ground, probably the scent of the dead animals they'd been sampling. Cole held his breath, watching, waiting, every second stretching into an eternity. He glanced down at Janice, seeing her holding perfectly still, her eyes covered by the sunglasses she’d perched on her nose.
Finally, the bear turned and lumbered away, disappearing into the thick brush on the far side of the creek. Cole didn't move until the sound of its passage faded completely and the forest returned to its winter silence.
“Damn, she was beautiful,” she said, still whispering.
Cole blinked. “Beautiful?”
She smiled as she turned her face up to him. “Deadly… but beautiful.”
"Okay," he said, releasing a breath he'd been holding far too long. "That's enough excitement for one day."
Janice let out a shaky sigh. "If she eats any animals that have been poisoned, then he’ll also suffer. The natural ecosystem being tainted has far-reaching complications, leading to illness and death.”
His hand was still wrapped around hers. He wasn't ready to let go yet. Might not be ready for a while. "Come on. Let's get back before we meet any more of the wildlife locals."
"Yeah," Janice said finally, her voice rough with emotion. "Let’s find the deer. As soon as I can gather his tissue, I’ll have everything I can get from here.”
They found the deer in a small clearing just past the creek crossing, its body curled against the base of a spruce as though it had simply laid down to rest. A young doe, maybe two years old, her tawny coat dusted with fresh snow.
Janice made a soft sound of distress when she saw it, her steps faltering for just a moment before professional determination took over. Cole watched her approach the animal with that same reverent care she'd shown the fox, kneeling in the snow beside the still form.
"Hey, sweet girl," she murmured, her gloved hand brushing snow from the doe's face. "I'm so sorry. You deserved better than this."
Cole's chest tightened. "How long do you think she's been gone?" he asked, scanning the tree line while she worked.
"Maybe two days, based on the tissue condition and the snow accumulation." Janice was already pulling supplies from her kit, her movements efficient despite the emotion in her voice. "The cold has preserved everything well. That's actually good for our purposes."
She positioned herself beside the deer's abdomen, scalpel in hand. "I need to perform a field necropsy. It's more involved than what I did with the fox, but a deer gives us a larger sample size and more tissue to work with. The pathology will be more definitive."
"What do you need from me?"
"Just keep watch." She glanced up at him, a small smile crossing her face despite the grim task ahead. "And maybe don't look too closely if you're squeamish."
"I've seen worse," Cole assured her, though he positioned himself to watch the forest rather than the procedure. But his gaze kept returning to her because watching Janice work felt oddly intimate.
"I'm going to start with an external examination," Janice dictated into her phone, her voice shifting into clinical mode. "Documenting any visible abnormalities before I open her up."
Cole listened as she worked, her observations painting a picture of an animal slowly failing.
"Poor body condition—she's underweight for this time of year, which suggests she wasn't eating well.
Could be the contaminated water affecting her appetite, or she was too weak to forage properly.
" A pause. "Mucous membranes are pale, almost white.
That indicates anemia, which is consistent with heavy metal toxicity affecting red blood cell production. "
The sound of her working made Cole focus harder on the trees, on the play of shadows across the snow.
"I'm opening the abdominal cavity to access the organs." More sounds of work, then a sharp intake of breath. "Oh, God."
Cole turned despite himself. "What is it?"
Janice's face showed anguish. "Her liver. It should be a deep reddish-brown, smooth and healthy. But this—" She shook her head slowly. "It's enlarged, mottled, almost yellow in places. The damage is extensive."
She reached for sample containers, her hands steady even as her voice wavered. "The discoloration suggests severe fatty degeneration and possible fibrosis. Her liver was failing, Cole. She was being poisoned from the inside out every time she drank from that creek."
"Can you tell how long it took?"
"Weeks, probably. Maybe months." Janice sealed one container and reached for another.
"Heavy metal poisoning is insidious. It accumulates slowly, damages gradually.
By the time an animal shows obvious symptoms, the organ damage is already severe.
She probably seemed fine until suddenly she wasn't, and started stumbling, stopped eating, couldn't keep up with her herd. "
Cole watched her move to the kidneys, her scalpel work precise despite the difficult conditions. Snow continued to fall from the tree limbs, dusting her shoulders and hat with white.
"The kidneys are worse," she said quietly.
"Pale, swollen. Complete renal failure was probably imminent.
If the liver damage didn't kill her, the kidney failure would have.
" She collected more samples, labeling each container with careful precision.
"I'm also going to take bone marrow from the femur.
Lead accumulates in bone tissue, so marrow samples can show long-term exposure levels even when blood levels have normalized. "
She worked in silence for several minutes, and Cole found himself watching her despite his earlier intention not to. There was something profound about witnessing her expertise, her compassion, her determination to give this animal's death meaning.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Janice whispered to the deer as she collected the final samples. "I'm sorry we didn't find you sooner. I'm sorry we couldn't save you." She stroked the doe's neck gently, a gesture of farewell. "But I promise your death won't be meaningless."
Cole moved closer, resting his hand on Janice's shoulder as she knelt in the bloodstained snow. "You okay?"
"No." Her voice was thick with tears she refused to shed. "But I will be. Once we nail these bastards to the wall and make sure this never happens to another animal in this forest."
She stood slowly, stripping off her soiled gloves and replacing them with fresh ones. Her sample containers were lined up neatly in her kit, now included with the evidence from the other wildlife.
"This is good evidence," she said, her clinical composure returning.
"A deer is a sentinel species—they're sensitive to environmental contamination and their range overlaps with human water sources.
If the deer are dying, it's only a matter of time before people start getting sick too.
That's the kind of argument that makes regulators pay attention. "
Cole’s respect for her deepened with every moment. She'd just performed a necropsy in freezing temperatures, in the snow, on an animal she'd never met, all to gather evidence that might save countless other lives.
"You're remarkable," he said, not for the first time.
Janice looked up at him, exhaustion and grief and determination all warring in her expression. "I'm just doing what needs to be done."
"That's what makes it remarkable." He cupped her face in his gloved hands, tilting her chin up. "Most people see something wrong and look the other way. You see something wrong, and you fight. That's not ordinary, Janice. That's extraordinary."
She leaned into his touch, letting her eyes close for just a moment. "Thank you. Now, let’s get back home.”
Cole nodded but didn't immediately move. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, realizing it was a promise of things he wasn't quite ready to say out loud. "Yeah," he agreed. "Home."
The word hung in the air between them, loaded with meaning neither of them addressed. Home. As if the tiny cabin in the Alaskan wilderness was something they shared, something that belonged to both of them.