Page 19 of Cole

“And just sit back and let the wildlife suffer?” she nearly shouted.

“No… we can report what we find, but you are out there alone. And if they know you're watching, you could be in danger."

"This sucks." The memory of those men in the tavern, watching her with cold eyes, sent a shiver down her spine. "But I'm snowed in right now anyway. Nobody's going anywhere for at least forty-eight hours. That gives me time to think, to plan, to gather evidence safely."

Another pause, longer this time. The connection wavered, threatening to drop entirely.

"Be careful," Marcus finally said. "I'll start making calls. See what I can find out about their operation and their compliance record. In the meantime, document everything, but don't take unnecessary risks."

"I won't."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

The call dropped before she could say anything else. Janice lowered the phone and stared at the screen, then back out at the storm. The snow showed no signs of stopping. By morning, she'd be completely cut off from town, from help, from anything except her cabin and the wilderness surrounding it.

Which meant that if she was going to investigate the source of the contamination, now was the time. While the storm provided cover and Northern Summit's workers were hunkered down, not expecting anyone to be out in this weather.

The idea formed slowly, growing from a whisper of possibility into a full-fledged plan. She could take her snowmobile. Follow the creek upstream to where she'd seen the boot prints. Document whatever she found with her camera and GPS. Be back before dark, before anyone even knew she'd been out there.

It was risky. “Stupid,” she mumbled aloud. Going out alone in a snowstorm to investigate potentially dangerous people doing potentially illegal things. But the alternative was sitting here, helpless, while they continued contaminating the watershed and destroying the ecosystem she'd spent months studying.

She pulled out her satellite phone and called her parents. Her father answered on the second ring.

"Janice? Everything okay?"

"I'm fine, Dad. Just wanted to check in while I still had a signal." She kept her voice light, casual. "I'm snowed in at the cabin for a couple of days."

"We saw the weather reports." Her mother's voice came through the background, and she heard rustling as her father put the call on speaker. "You have enough supplies?"

"Plenty. I stocked up yesterday in town." She hesitated, then decided they needed to know at least part of what she was dealing with. "I wanted to tell you both something. There's a mining company operating upstream from my research area. I think they might be contaminating the watershed."

Silence on the other end of the line. Then her father's voice, careful and measured. "What kind of contamination?"

"Chemical runoff. Elevated metals and processing waste in the creek." She pulled up her data again, the numbers a stark reminder of what was at stake. "It's not immediately dangerous, but over time it'll damage the ecosystem. Kill fish, poison the wildlife, disrupt the food chain."

"Have you reported it?" her mother asked.

"I'm gathering evidence first, but yes, I’ve talked to Marcus. I need to document everything before I make formal allegations." Janice moved to the wood stove, feeding it another log. "Marcus is looking into their permits and compliance records. Once I have solid proof, we'll contact the EPA and state environmental office."

"Janice." Her father's tone held a warning she recognized from childhood. "If these people are operating illegally, they won't appreciate you documenting their activities."

"I know, Dad. I'm being careful."

"Are you?" Her mother this time, sharper. "You're alone in the wilderness, close to people who might be breaking the law. That's not careful, sweetheart. That's dangerous."

"I have my satellite phone. I have GPS equipment. I know this area better than anyone." She heard the defensiveness in her own voice and tried to soften it. "I'm not going to do anything reckless. I just... I can't sit here and watch them destroy this place. Not when I can do something about it."

More silence. She could picture her parents exchanging glances, having one of their wordless conversations born of forty years of marriage.

"Check in with us every day," her father finally said. "Morning and evening. If we don't hear from you, we're calling the authorities."

"Dad—"

"That's not negotiable." His voice held steel underneath the concern. "You are in the Alaskan wilderness, alone. Daily check-ins, or we're sending search and rescue."

Janice felt tears prick her eyes, an emotion she hadn't expected. "Okay. I promise. Morning and evening."