Page 18 of Grumpy Bear (Return To Fate Mountain #4)

Chapter

Fifteen

Several days later, Henry stomped through the underbrush, each heavy footfall crushing pine needles beneath his boots.

The rhythm of his movement usually calmed him, but today the forest’s peace eluded him.

His conversation with Ivy had been replaying in his mind like a splinter he couldn’t extract for the last three days.

The hurt in her eyes when he’d questioned her judgment had struck deeper than he’d intended.

“Damn it,” he muttered to no one, a nearby chickadee startling at the sudden sound.

The wildlife corridor stretched before him, a critical path that allowed animals to move safely between different parts of the forest. This section stood several miles from the nature center, but formed part of the same ecosystem he was determined to protect.

He’d been patrolling since dawn, throwing himself into work rather than facing the hollow feeling that had settled in his chest. Ivy hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. And neither had he.

His bear rumbled unhappily beneath his skin.

The animal within disliked this separation, pushing Henry to return to her.

But the human side of him remained stubborn.

He’d spoken the truth as he saw it. Someone was systematically attacking the nature center, and Ivy’s tendency to see the best in people could blind her to genuine threats.

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 Station sat 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?”

Another pause, longer this time. “You’ve been misinformed. My interactions with Mountaintop Construction have been minimal and entirely appropriate. My primary work is as an instructor at the Institute.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind explaining why you were arguing with Ronald Vance behind the brewery last week? Something about contract arrangements?”

“I never... Who told you that?” Lisa’s voice had lost its professional veneer.

“You’re fishing for information based on gossip and assumptions.

I saw the vandalism on the news. Those environmental extremists have been against the project from day one.

You should focus your investigation on them instead of harassing legitimate professionals. ”

Henry’s attention sharpened. “I never mentioned what was vandalized.”

A beat of silence. “It was on the news. The educational displays. I have to go,” Lisa said abruptly. “Don’t call me again.”

The line went dead.

Henry reached for the phone again, this time dialing James Porter. The construction magnate answered on the third ring.

“James Porter speaking.”

“Mr. Porter, this is Henry Kincaid with the Forest Service,” Henry began, adopting his most official tone. “I’m calling about the Fate Mountain Nature Center project.”

“Ah, yes,” Porter sounded genuinely surprised. “Terrible business, that vandalism. How can I help the Forest Service?”

“We’re concerned about potential environmental impacts from the delays,” Henry improvised. “Specifically, whether construction scheduling changes might affect wildlife movement patterns.”

“I wouldn’t know the specifics,” Porter replied smoothly. “Vance Construction holds the contract. Though between us, I’m not certain they’ll maintain it much longer given recent... setbacks.”

“You’ve been monitoring the site closely,” Henry observed.

A chuckle. “It’s a project of interest to many developers. We all watch our competition.”

“Including Lisa Mercer? I understand you’ve worked together before.”

A slight hesitation. “Lisa is a talented architect. She still does projects in tandem with her instructional work at the institute. We’ve collaborated on several successful developments.

You seem remarkably well-informed about private business discussions, Ranger Kincaid.

” Porter’s voice had cooled several degrees.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have another call coming in. ”

Henry hung up, his suspicions strengthened. Porter hadn’t denied the connection to Lisa, nor his unusual interest in the project. More significantly, he’d positioned himself to benefit from Vance’s failure.