Page 17 of Grumpy Bear (Return To Fate Mountain #4)
Chapter
Fourteen
Ivy arrived at the nature center construction site early Monday morning, before the crew, a cardboard box of fresh pastries balanced in one hand and her work bag in the other.
She hummed quietly, her mind still warm with memories from the weekend with Henry at his cabin and the surprisingly successful family barbecue.
The morning air caressed her skin with autumn’s crisp fingers, carrying the scent of pine and morning dew. Birds called to one another in the surrounding forest. She felt a flicker of unease that rippled through her as she approached the main entrance.
The heavy steel door stood slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness visible through the gap. Drawing closer, her bear senses alert and tingling, she noticed the lock mechanism hanging awkwardly from the frame, metal fragments scattered across the concrete below. Someone had broken in!
“Hello?” she called, her bear instincts sharpening as she scented the lingering traces of unfamiliar presence beneath the clean mountain air. Only silence answered. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Her cautious footsteps seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness. Something twisted in her stomach, the bear within her bristling with protective anger. Ivy placed the pastry box on a workbench near the entrance.
Confused, she rounded the corner into the eastern wing. Ivy froze, her breath catching in her throat. The devastation before her struck like a physical blow, forcing her back a half-step before determination rooted her in place.
The meticulously crafted model of the mountain ecosystem—her pride and joy, with its carefully detailed wildlife paths and seasonal transformations—lay in ruins, pieces scattered across the concrete floor like a broken dream.
Interactive wildlife displays had been smashed, their components crushed beyond repair.
Educational panels were now defaced with angry red spray paint.
“Nature Not Concrete” screamed one wall. “Development = Destruction” declared another. The slogans matched Maya Wilson’s environmental group’s rhetoric exactly. Ivy had read these precise phrases on her fliers, word for word.
She stood paralyzed, her brain struggling to process. Months of research, design, and passion lay shattered around her. With trembling fingers, Ivy pulled out her phone and called the police.
“Hello? I need to report vandalism at the Fate Mountain Nature Center construction site.” She gave the dispatcher details and her location, noting the forced entry and targeted destruction, her voice steadier than she felt.
After finishing with the police, she made a second call. “Henry? Something’s happened at the site. Can you come?” Her voice wavered despite her attempts to keep it steady, her bear seeking its mate in a moment of vulnerability.
Before the police arrived, Henry’s truck pulled into the construction area. Ivy met him outside, fighting to maintain her composure. His expression darkened as soon as he saw her face.
“Someone broke in,” she explained, leading him to the damaged door. “Then destroyed the exhibition space.”
Henry examined the lock, fingers tracing the clean break in the metal. “Someone knew what they were doing,” he murmured.
Inside, Henry moved through the destruction methodically, his posture shifting to something more primal, more protective with each step. He examined the spray paint, then the broken exhibition components.
“The slogans match Maya Wilson’s group’s messaging exactly,” Ivy said, needing to give voice to the obvious.
“Too exactly,” Henry noted. His gaze tracked along the shattered remains of exhibits, his forehead creasing with concentration.
“Notice how these brackets were removed, not broken? And the way the models were disassembled along their seams?” He gestured toward the careful destruction pattern, his voice thoughtful rather than accusatory.
“Whoever did this knew these displays intimately.”
Ivy’s stomach tightened. “You think Maya’s people studied our designs that closely?”
Henry tilted his head slightly, considering. “Maybe. But look at this.” He lifted a section of the topographical model, showing her the clean separation at exactly where the internal support structure connected.
The gentle suggestion in his words hung in the air—a possibility she wasn’t ready to consider.
Her crew, her people, the team she’d built with such care.
The family she’d created around this vision.
People whose children’s birthdays she remembered, whose personal struggles she’d supported with the same sunshine optimism she brought to everything.
“My crew wouldn’t do this,” Ivy said, the words coming out firmer than she’d intended. “They believe in this project.”
“I’m just saying we should keep all possibilities open. The physical evidence suggests someone with intimate knowledge.”
“Maya’s group has been photographing the site for weeks,” Ivy countered. “They could have planned this from those images.”
Henry stepped closer, his voice softening further, the gruff ranger blending into the man who had held her through the night storm.
“Ivy, I understand these people are important to you. But reading the evidence without bias is what leads to truth.” He reached for her hand.
“Sometimes the hardest answers are where the evidence points.”
“So I should just suspect everyone I’ve trusted?” The words came out sharper than she intended, carrying the sting of old wounds—academic betrayals, Dr. Wells publishing her findings under his name.
“You should be open to every possibility,” Henry replied carefully. “Your optimism is one of your greatest strengths, but sometimes?—”
“Sometimes it blinds me?” Ivy finished, an old insecurity flaring. “You think I don’t know how to see people clearly?” The mate bond hummed between them, vibrating with conflicting emotions.
Before Henry could respond, the sound of vehicles pulling up outside interrupted them, the familiar rumble of construction trucks and the chatter of arriving workers breaking through their tense bubble.
The crew had arrived for their day’s work, and among them was Maya Wilson, walking alongside several workers with whom she’d evidently been talking.
Maya entered the exhibition space, her expression shifting from curiosity to shock as she took in the vandalized area, her footsteps faltering as if she’d walked into an invisible barrier. “What the hell happened here?” she asked, her eyes widening with what appeared to be genuine horror.
“Someone broke in overnight,” Henry said. “Used your group’s slogans to mark the place.”
Maya’s face flushed. “You think I did this?”
“I didn’t say that,” Henry said. “But someone went to great lengths to copy your rhetoric word for word.”
“This is a frame job, plain and simple,” Maya snapped, gesturing wildly at the graffiti, her movements sharp with indignation. “I would never destroy educational materials. That’s completely counter to everything we stand for.”
Ivy studied her reaction carefully. The outrage seemed genuine, the shock unfeigned. The pattern of Maya’s heartbeat, the subtle scents of her emotional state that Ivy’s enhanced senses could detect—all pointed toward innocence. “I believe you, Maya.”
Henry made a sound of frustration. “We need to consider all possibilities, Ivy. Including the uncomfortable ones.” He turned to study the gathered construction crew, who were murmuring among themselves at the destruction, their expressions ranging from shock to anger to what might have been guilt on some faces.
“Someone managed to get in with the right tools at the right time. Someone who knew exactly what would hurt you most.”
The tension between them crackled like static electricity. Ivy felt the gulf widening with each exchange. These were her people—her team, her vision, her chosen family in this work. Having Henry scrutinize them like suspects felt like a betrayal, even as her rational mind acknowledged his logic.
“Not everyone deserves your trust,” Henry said quietly, for her ears alone, his breath warm against her ear as he leaned close. “Sometimes your optimism blinds you to what’s right in front of you.”
The words landed like a physical blow, striking deeper than he could know.
Here was her deepest fear voiced aloud. Her face heated, tears threatening to form despite her best efforts to maintain the composed, sunshine-Ivy exterior that everyone expected.
The mask she wore so carefully, felt suddenly transparent and fragile.
“I need to give my statement to the police,” Ivy said, noticing the patrol car pulling into the parking lot, lights cutting through the morning mist. “I think you should go.”
Henry stared at her, clearly conflicted. “Ivy, I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to protect you.”
“By suggesting I’m too naive to judge people’s character? By implying I can’t see what’s right in front of me?” The hurt transformed to anger, safer and cleaner than the vulnerability beneath it. “I don’t need that kind of protection. I need a partner who respects my judgment.”
Henry stood his ground for a moment longer, clearly torn between his protective instincts and her request. Finally, he nodded, turning to go.
Ivy watched him walk away, the mate bond stretched by their first real conflict.
The separation hurt in ways she hadn’t anticipated, her bear whining in confusion at the distance between them.
As Henry’s truck disappeared down the access road, Ivy squared her shoulders and turned to face the police officers approaching, summoning her professional demeanor from beneath the turmoil. The nature center needed her.