And yet.
The memory of her face—sunshine dimmed by his harsh words—gnawed at him. He hadn’t needed to be so blunt. Perhaps there had been gentler ways to express his concerns.
Movement in the distance caught his attention. A figure crouched near a fallen log, methodically collecting what appeared to be soil samples. Henry recognized Maya Wilson immediately, her dark braid falling over one shoulder as she labeled a small container.
His initial instinct was suspicion. Why was she here, in this specific section of the forest? Henry deliberated for only a moment before approaching, his footsteps purposely heavy enough to announce his presence. Maya’s head snapped up at the sound, wariness flooding her expression when she recognized him.
“Ranger Kincaid,” she said, her voice cool and clipped as she straightened. “Come to accuse me of more crimes?”
“Just patrolling,” Henry replied, gesturing to the soil samples. “What are you doing out here?”
Maya studied him for a long moment, clearly weighing how much to share. “My continuing monitoring of this corridor. I didn’t trash those exhibits. That’s counterproductive to everything my group stands for. We want environmental education, just not at the expense of habitat destruction.”
“The police question you?” Henry asked, watching her reaction carefully.
“For an hour that morning,” she confirmed, capping a sample vial with unnecessary force. “They’re still investigating. Meanwhile, I’m doing an investigation of my own.”
“Into what?”
“James Porter’s Mountaintop Construction,” Maya said, her expression darkening. “His company bid aggressively for this project. When Vance got it instead, Porter started showing up everywhere, watching the site like a vulture.”
Maya reached into her backpack, extracting a folder. “Porter’s company has a pattern of underbidding competitors, then manufacturing ‘problems’ that drive up costs. When clients can’t pay, they swoop in and take over.” She handed him several photographs. “Porter and Lisa Mercer worked together on three projects before the nature center bid. They have history. And get this, last week, my friend who works at the brewery saw Lisa and Vance arguing intensely behind the building. Something about ‘contract arrangements.’ Seemed suspicious.”
Henry examined the photos showing Lisa and Porter in conversation at various construction sites. His ranger instincts buzzed with interest. The evidence wasn’t conclusive, but it opened new possibilities he hadn’t considered.
“Why show me this?” he asked, handing back the folder.
“Because despite your accusatory attitude, you actually care about this mountain,” Maya replied. “And so do I. We have the same goal.”
Henry considered her words, his initial suspicion gradually giving way to reluctant respect.
“I never specifically accused you of anything,” he said.
A ghost of a smile touched Maya’s lips. “Is that ranger-speak for ‘I’m sorry’?”
Henry didn’t quite smile back, but the tension between them eased. “I’ll look into Porter and Lisa. These connections are worth investigating.”
“Just be careful,” Maya warned. “Porter has political connections in the county. And deep pockets.”
The Forest Service Stationsat nestled at the edge of the woods, a modest building with weathered timber siding. Inside, the small office Henry shared with two other rangers contained just the essentials: a desk, computer, filing cabinets, and maps covering nearly every available wall space.
Henry settled behind his desk, the ancient chair creaking under his weight. The morning’s interaction with Maya had shifted his perspective, opening new avenues of investigation. He picked up the phone, hesitating only briefly before dialing Lisa Mercer.
“Mr. Kincaid,” Lisa’s voice carried barely concealed annoyance when she came on the line. “I’m rather busy. What can I do for you?”
“Just following up on the vandalism at the nature center,” Henry replied, keeping his tone neutral. “I’m compiling information for the Forest Service report.”
“I’ve already spoken with the police,” Lisa said dismissively. “I’m not sure what the Forest Service has to do with simple vandalism.”
“The nature center borders protected forest land,” Henry explained. “Any activity that might affect wildlife migration falls under our jurisdiction.”
A pause. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I wasn’t there when it happened.”
“Interesting that Porter’s company has shown such interest in the project,” Henry said, changing tactics. “He seems to be at the site frequently, considering he lost the bid.”
The sudden intake of breath on the other end of the line was telling. “James Porter is a colleague in the industry. His interest is purely professional.”
“Professional,” Henry repeated. “Like your collaboration on the Riverfront Development? Or the Mountain View Estates?”
