CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Garrett Lindqvist arrived in person.
The meeting was in the back office of Eli Whitford's property-management storefront, three doors down from Mae's, because Eli had the only space in Pine Ridge that was professional-looking and neutral, which Claire had specifically requested when she returned Cascade Valley's call the previous day and proposed an in-person rather than a phone meeting.
The phone meeting had been their preference.
The in-person had been hers. They'd agreed.
That they'd agreed had told Claire something she filed and chose not to examine.
He shook her hand.
His shoes made no concessions to the eastern Cascades. He wore a dark blue suit. He had not, Claire noted with small private satisfaction, dressed down for Pine Ridge. The dressing-down would have been the soft approach. Cascade Valley had decided to skip it.
"Dr. Dunn. Thank you for the time."
"Mr. Lindqvist."
He sat across from her at Eli's small conference table. Claire had already made coffee. Eli was up front pretending to file paperwork. The walls were thin. Claire knew this. Garrett, who didn't, would not.
"I want to begin," Garrett said, "by saying how impressed corporate continues to be with the quality of your work."
"Thank you."
"Your Phase One report was a model of rigor. The clarity. The methodology. I personally circulated it inside our development group as a benchmark."
"That's kind."
"It's accurate."
Garrett smiled. Claire returned it in the proportional minimum.
"I want to talk to you about the framing of your eventual Phase Two report," Garrett said. "Not the data. The framing. We have, as I'm sure you appreciate, some commercial sensitivities around how the geological findings are characterized."
"I am aware of Cascade Valley's commercial position."
"Of course you are. And I want to emphasize, before I go further, that we are not asking you to alter data. We are not the kind of company that operates that way."
"All right."
"What we're asking, in the spirit of partnership, is that you understand the implications of your language choices.
There are several ways to characterize the data you're collecting.
Some would describe the geological features in scientifically accurate but commercially neutral terms. Others would, perhaps without meaning to, generate friction in our development pathway. "
"Mhm."
"We would appreciate the former."
He paused.
He had paused for a response. Claire understood the pause was for a response. She didn't provide one.
Garrett continued.
"We've considered that you might feel constrained, professionally, by some of the more colorful descriptors that might apply to certain features.
So we're also offering, in the spirit of collaboration, the input of a senior Cascade Valley geologist who could provide context to your findings.
Mr. Henley has thirty years of experience in this region.
His framing would be made available to you as a courtesy.
You would, of course, retain full authorship. "
"I see."
"And of course, your contract with Cascade Valley, like all our consulting contracts, has a quality assurance review clause. Standard language. Rarely invoked. But it exists, and I mention it only so you have a complete understanding of the contract framework you're operating in."
He stopped.
Claire let the silence sit.
She let it sit for a count of six.
Then she said, in the most professional register her training had ever given her:
"I will continue to characterize the data accurately."
Garrett's expression did not, in any visible way, change.
He shifted gears the way a man shifts gears in a car he's been driving thirty years.
"Dr. Dunn, I want to make sure you understand the long-term value of the relationship we're offering.
Cascade Valley has, over the years, referred a number of consultants in your specialty to other developers in our network.
We're an ecosystem. Consultants who've been collegial in their work with us have found their pipelines benefit. I'm offering to ensure that pipeline."
"I understand."
"I'm glad."
"I will continue to characterize the data accurately."
The second time, the line landed differently in the room.
Garrett, for the first time since he'd walked in, took a breath that registered.
He smiled. Wider. He stood. Extended his hand.
"I'm sure we'll find our way to common ground. Dr. Dunn, it has been a pleasure."
"Mr. Lindqvist."
She shook his hand. He left. The bell over Eli's storefront rang. His car door shut outside. The engine started. He drove away.
Claire sat at the table a full minute.
Her hands were not humming.
Her hands were shaking.
She put them flat on the table. Let them shake. The shake was a thing the body did when it had finished performing and was now, in private, processing what it had performed. She had performed for fifteen minutes. The fifteen minutes had cost her something. The cost was her hands.
She drove to the field. Worked alone all afternoon.
Site eleven, southwest quadrant, the deepest point of the contract's permitted access.
She didn't see Jackson. He was monitoring elsewhere.
She didn't text him. He didn't text her.
He'd texted her, in the eight days since the fire tower, exactly twice, both about logistics.
He was giving her room. The room was, at this hour of this afternoon, more than she wanted.
It was also less than she could ask him for.
She worked until 5:38.
Drove back to the cabin in town.
Ate a sandwich.
Slept badly.
The phone, quiet all day, rang again at 6:02 in the morning, and Claire knew, before she picked it up, that this call was the one she could not finesse.
* * *