Page 53 of Cole

"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.

24

Back at the cabin, Janice carefully unpacked her field kit on the kitchen counter, arranging the sample containers in neat rows. Her mind was already working through the next steps in preservation protocols, chain-of-custody documentation, and analysis procedures. The water samples had been damning, but these tissue samples would be the smoking gun.

Cole moved around the cabin behind her, checking windows and adding wood to the stove, giving her space to work while still maintaining his quiet vigilance. She appreciated the way he seemed to understand when she needed to focus.

"I need to call my parents," she said, pulling out her laptop. "They're both veterinarians, and their clinic has a full diagnostic lab. If I can't trust the university anymore, I need another way to get these samples analyzed properly."

"Makes sense." Cole settled onto the sofa, close enough to be present but not hovering. "You want privacy?"

Janice hesitated. Part of her wanted to handle this alone, the way she'd always handled things. But a growing part wanted Cole there. Wanted her parents to see the man who'd been protecting her. "No," she said. "Stay. I think... I'd like you to meet them."