Danger at the Border
by Terri Reed
"Thank you,
Randy." Biologist Dr. Tessa Cleary smiled at the young ranger sitting in
the driver's seat of the Forest Service truck.
"Sure
thing, Doc." He saluted her with a grin crinkling his tanned face.
Randy had picked her up
from the airport in Bellingham, Washington, and driven her on the long, windy
road to the ranger station at Glen Lake in the North Cascades National Forest.
At least five years younger than her twenty-eight years, Randy had kept up a
running dialogue on the lake and the human inhabitants who made the forest
their home. He obviously knew the area well.
Tessa had been content to
listen but was glad to reach her destination and escape the confines of the
truck cab. The smell of tobacco coming off the young ranger had been overpowering,
even with the window down. A little queasy, she climbed from the vehicle and
stretched. However, the agitated churning of her tummy wasn't due to motion
sickness, but from the recent reports of fish kills and the outburst of
breathing problems swimmers in Glen Lake had been experiencing.
Shielding her eyes
against the late-summer sun, she surveyed her surroundings and filled her lungs
with the sweet scent of fresh mountain air. Tall conifers dominated the forest,
but she detected many deciduous trees surrounding the sparkling shores of the
reservoir lake, as well.
A hidden paradise. One to
be enjoyed by those willing to venture to the middle of the Pacific Northwest.
The lake should be filled
with boats and swimmers, laughing children, fishing poles and water skis.
But all was still.
Silent.
The seemingly benign
water was filled with something toxic harming both the wildlife and humans.
Her office had received
a distressing call yesterday that dead trout had washed ashore on the lake, and
recreational swimmers were presenting with respiratory distress after swimming
in the lake.
As a field biologist for
the USDA Forest Service's Fish and Aquatic Ecology Unit, her job was to
determine what exactly that something was as quickly as possible and
stop it.
She'd convinced her boss
she couldn't wait for a team to be assembled. She needed to get to Glen Lake
ASAP. The team would follow but not for another forty-eight hours. She'd hopped
on the next available flight from Logan, Utah, to the state of Washington to
assess the reports of contamination in the water.
A wet, hot tongue licked
her hand. Startled, she jerked back. A large Rottweiler stared up at her.
"Ooh, aren't you a
beauty?" she cooed and scratched the dog behind the ear.
"Here she
is!" A booming voice full of anticipation rang out. The dog trotted away,
apparently losing interest in her as she turned her attention to the ranger
station.
The building, like many
she'd visited around the country, had a peaked roofline to keep winter elements
from accumulating, and natural wood and material painted in earthy tones to
help the structure blend in with the environment.
A mixed group of
civilians and uniformed personnel gathered on the wide wooden porch.
She
recognized the park ranger by his tan uniform. She figured the man in the dark
brown uniform with the gold-star badge was the Okanagan County sheriff.
All eyes were trained
on her. All except one man's.
Tall with dark hair, he
stood in profile talking to the sheriff. Too many people blocked him from full
view for her to see an agency logo on his forest-green uniform. Probably from
EPA. She'd worked with agents from the Environmental Protection Agency on other
cases, though she thought their uniforms were dark colored. Either way, she
hoped this didn't turn into a power struggle.
The ranger, a lanky man
in his sixties, and a woman of the same age dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt
broke away from the crowd to hurry down the stairs toward her.
Tessa forced a composed
smile, though inside she was anxious to get going. The longer they waited, the
more damage to the lake and its inhabitants there would be, but she knew in
situations like this it was best to appear confident and calm. Showing any sign
of concern would create panic.
She didn't want anyone to
freak out. At least, not until she knew what they were dealing with. There
could be any number of reasons for the fish kills—the most common causes were
oxygen depletion, algae, disease or pollution.
Only the last two could
explain the swimmers' breathing issues.
The ranger approached
with his hand out. "You must be Dr. Cleary. I'm Ranger George Harris, and
this is my wife, Ellen. Thank you for coming so quickly."
"I got here as
soon as I could," she said, shaking each of their outstretched hands.
"I did as you
asked," George said. "All boating activity and swimming in the lake
has ceased. The sheriff has officers stationed at the docks to make sure no one
takes any watercrafts out."
"Good," she
said. "It would be best for everyone to stay out of the lake until we know
what's going on."
"You're going to
find the cause?" An older man stalked forward, the Rottweiler at his
heels. His bushy eyebrows lowered over dark eyes. "You're just a scrawny
lady. What can you possibly do?" He threw his hands in the air.
"We're doomed."
Not letting his words
affect her took effort. This wasn't the first time she'd been dismissed before
being given a chance. She'd hoped her career would be the one place where she'd
be accepted for who she was. Unfortunately, that was a fight she constantly
found herself battling.
But at least she had
knowledge and expertise to back her up. "Sir, I assure you I know what I'm
doing. I will get to the bottom of what's going on."
The old man harrumphed.
Ellen stepped forward and
placed a hand on the old man's arm. "Henry, enough with the
dramatics." She turned to Tessa. "As you can probably understand,
folks around here are pretty upset. The resort at the southern tip of the lake
has people bailing on their reservations right and left. The other small
communities along the shoreline are suffering, as well."
"Without the
tourist trade, my business will die. I'll have to sell." Henry's fists
tightened at his sides. "Where am I going to go? Huh?"
Ellen patted his arm.
"It won't come to that."
Tessa turned her
attention to Ranger Harris. "Do you have any idea where the contamination
is originating?"
He shook his head.
"We haven't come across the source. At least not on our side of the lake.
I'm not sure what's happening across the border." George ran a hand
through his graying hair as his gaze strayed to the lake. "Whatever this
is, it isn't coming from our side."
"Let's not go
casting aspersions on our friends to the north until we know more. Okay,
George?"
The deep baritone voice
came from Tessa's right. She turned to find herself confronted by a set of
midnight-blue eyes filled with curiosity.
She blinked at the
attractive man towering over her. Answering curiosity rose within her. Who was
he? And why was he here? She couldn't drag her gaze away from his face to check
his uniform.
His gaze slid the
length of her, burning a trail over her plaid shirt, jeans and work boots, and
back to her eyes. She drew herself up to her full height, though she only
managed to reach his shoulders, refusing to squirm beneath his perusal.
However, she was glad
she'd corralled her wild curls with a clip and had applied some lip gloss when
her plane landed.
She mentally scoffed. Not
that she cared a whit what this man thought of her. Doing her job wasn't
dependent on meeting his approval.
His well-formed lips
curved upward slightly, sending a shiver gallivanting across her flesh. But she
held his gaze, unwilling to let him think he could intimidate or embarrass her,
despite the heat creeping up her neck.
George cleared his
throat. "Dr. Cleary, this is Agent Steele with the U.S. Customs and Border
Protection service."
Ah. That explained his
presence. Finally able to tear her gaze from his, she noted his gold badge with
the unmistakable bald eagle perched at the top with its wings spread as if in
flight. Considering the lake crossed the international border separating the
U.S. and Canada, she wasn't surprised that a Border Patrol agent had been
called.
Since 9/11, the U.S. and
Canadian governments had upped the amount of personnel and security measures
along its shared boundary. The forestland on both sides of the line, though
rugged terrain, had seen its share of attempted illegal crossings.
"Jeff," Agent
Steele said, holding out his hand.
She hesitated a fraction
before slipping her hand into his. "Tessa."
His big, warm palm
pressed against hers like a shock pad, sending waves of sensation up her arm.
She extracted her hand
quickly and curled her fingers to disperse the disturbing reaction. Basic
biology at work here. Nothing more. Just because the guy looked as if he
belonged on a billboard ad rather than out in the middle of a forest didn't
mean she had to get all goofy about him. She wasn't in the market for a
romance. The last time she'd allowed the rush of attraction to rule, she'd
ended up busted to pieces when the relationship took a nosedive like the pH
level in an aquarium when exposed to too much CO2.
The gleam in his eyes
made her think he'd noticed her reaction to him. She resisted the urge to put
her hand to her warm cheeks. No sense in confirming her initial attraction.
"I look forward to
working with you."
His smooth-as-silk voice
wrapped around her. It took a moment for his words to process. "Working
with me?"
She couldn't imagine what
he could do to help her or the work she did. He'd only be a nuisance. A
distraction she didn't want.
Instead of answering, he
gestured to the man beside him. "This is Sheriff Larkin."
Tessa jerked her gaze
from the too-handsome Agent Steele to acknowledge the sheriff with a handshake.
"Sheriff."
"We're counting on
you to deal with this," the sheriff said.
"Have there been
any fires in the area recently? The contamination could be chemicals used in
fire-fighting that seeped into the soil or into the water."
Sheriff Larkin shook
his head. "No. Not for a couple of years."
So much for that theory.
"I'll need to test samples of the water and the soil along the lakeshore
on both sides."
"I'll have a boat
ready to take you wherever you need to go," Ranger Harris promised.
"You have the fish
samples?" She'd asked that they collect as many different samples as
possible from various points along the lakeshore. That way she would have a
better chance of figuring out if the contamination was widespread or localized
to a specific section.
"Yes. I have at least
two dozen waiting for you."
Anxiety spurted through
her. She was careful to keep her voice even. "Two dozen dead fish?"
"Yes, ma'am,"
George stated. "From up and down both sides of the lake all the way to the
borderline. Each is labeled where on the lake it came from, like you'd
asked."
Her stomach sank. So
much for hoping the contaminant was limited and hadn't had a chance to cover
too large a portion of the lake or to settle in the sediment. With that many
dead trout turning up, the toxin had spread.
She looked at Agent
Steele—Jeff. "You'll need to alert the Canadian authorities that the lake
is contaminated."
Agent Steele exchanged
a glance with the sheriff. "We've communicated to the Canadians that there
is an issue with the lake water. They are taking appropriate precautions."
"Could an oil or
gasoline spill cause the fish to die?" Ellen asked.
"And swimmers to get
sick?" George added.
Tessa shifted her gaze to
the older couple. "Has anyone reported a spill?"
George shook his head.
"I doubt a tourist
would report an accident like that. Too eager to save their own bacon than
protect the water," Henry shot out.
"What happens if it
is a spill?" Ellen asked.
"We'd skim the spill
from the surface by using a boom or skimmer device that sucks up the
contaminant." Cleaning up even a small portion of the lake wouldn't be an
easy task, but it would be doable.
Jeff's intense gaze
held hers. "And if it's not oil or gas? How do we clean it up?"
"If the pollutant
has settled into the sediment, then dredging will be necessary."
"How long will
that take?" George asked.
Looking at the lake,
she said, "I don't have a definitive answer."
"Your best
guess?" the sheriff interjected.
"I don't make
guesses," she said.
"Try," Jeff
prodded.
The weight of his stare
pried the words from her. "Considering the size and depth of the lake,
maybe a week or two. Maybe more."
George groaned.
"Summer's not over
yet. We still have several weeks of good weather. We can't afford to lose the
tourism," Ellen said, distress ringing in her tone.
"See, I told you,
we're doomed!" Henry interjected in a loud roar.
Tessa held up a hand.
"I won't know what to do or what we're dealing with until I locate the
toxin and assess the damage."
"What do we do first?"
Jeff asked, his intense gaze drilling into her.
"We don't
do anything." Tessa hoped he understood where the boundary line lay. She
didn't need him getting in her way. She turned to Ranger Harris. "I need
to examine the fish."
