remaining half of the pastry into a nearby wastebasket.
She didn’t need food; the upcoming mental combat was all the fuel she needed
to energize her.
By three in the afternoon the next day, Leslie knew she’d have another win in
her column. The trial was still a long way from over, but she’d sensed the subtle
change of mood in the members of the jury, from wary and perplexed—as
they’d listened to the assistant U.S.
attorney recite dry statistics and a litany of rules and regulations—to
sympathetic, when she’d pointed out the massive expense and time required for
her client to comply with those same rules and regulations.
Her subtle point, time and time again, had been that Harlan Vehicles wished to
be in compliance with the law despite the heavy ? nancial burden placed upon
them by government regulation, and that levying huge penalties would only make
it more dif? cult for them. Oh yes, any taxpayer would understand that.
As she listened to the testimony of another of the government’s scienti? c
experts, she ran numbers in her head, calculating how much she might be able to
rein in the penalties. A very great deal, she wagered.
“Your witness, Counselor,” the judge said.
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Leslie rose quickly and strode briskly from behind
the defense table. She had only a second to register the violent racing of her
heart before she fainted.
LJ!
My God, Leslie! Someone get some water!
“I’m ? ne. Fine,” Leslie said weakly. Vaguely aware of the fact that she was
lying on the ? oor in the middle of the courtroom, she struggled to sit up.
Someone held her down with the slightest touch to her shoulder, and she didn’t
have the strength to protest. Her vision wavered and she felt as if she were
trying to breathe underwater. “No, please. Really. I…just need…a little air.”
She heard the judge hastily adjourning for the day and ? ushed with
embarrassment. She was used to being the center of attention, but not like this.
Stephanie’s face swam into view, and Leslie ? xed on the bright blue eyes a
shade lighter than her own. When her head cleared enough that she thought she
could stand without falling, she said, “Help me up, Steph. I’m okay.”
Stephanie and Bill Mallory, Leslie’s second chair, guided her to her feet.
Stephanie kept her arm around Leslie’s waist. “You’re white as a sheet, LJ.”
“I feel like…” Leslie couldn’t get enough air to ? nish the sentence and the room
went dim. “I think I need…hospital.”
Almost 275 miles due north of the courthouse, Dr. Devon Weber waded into
Lake George up to her waist. Her waterproof boots and waders kept her dry,
but not warm, and the familiar ache in her right hip appeared before she’d gone
ten feet. It might be almost mid-June, but the lake was still frigid, its temperature
lagging far behind that of the air, which was only in the high sixties despite the
bright sunshine. Still, she was used to being wet and cold and sore; it came with
the job.
“Can’t you do that from the boat?” Park Ranger Sergeant Natalie Evans called
from shore.
“I can feel the bottom better when I walk on it!” Dev yelled back, thinking a
little enviously that the petite brunette shuf? ing her boots on the packed brown
earth at the water’s edge looked warm and comfortable in her khaki uniform
and spring-weight ? ak jacket.
“Mud’s mud,” Natalie said.
Dev smiled to herself. She was used to people ? nding her work and her
interests strange, even professionals like Natalie who had a better understanding
than most of what she was doing. Dev kept going until the water was an inch
below the top of her waders and she felt the accumulation of soil, plant detritus,
and decomposing organic matter change consistency beneath her feet.
“I can bring the launch out and at least hand you sample bottles,”
Natalie offered.
“Thanks, but you’ll rile the waters with the boat. I’ll just be a minute.” Dev
opened her canvas shoulder bag and slid out a plastic collection bottle the size
of a maraschino cherry jar. With her other hand, she slowly inserted a long metal
rod with a suction chamber on the far end straight down through the water and
several inches into the lake bottom next to her foot. By depressing a button with
her thumb, she was able to extract a small sample. She secured the specimen in
the collection jar and dropped it into her bag. “That’s number one.”
On the shore, Natalie noted the date, time, ambient temperature, water
temperature, and exact location on a lined sheet of paper af? xed to a
clipboard.
“I appreciate you playing secretary,” Dev said as she waded back to shore.
“I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than follow me around.”
“Not a problem.” Actually, Natalie did have other things to do, but none that
she would have found quite as pleasant. She was a park ranger stationed on the
western shore of Lake George in Bolton Landing, New York. She patrolled a
portion of the three hundred square miles of parkland that surrounded the lake,
which was thirty-two miles long and three miles wide at some points. Despite
the fact that the enormous body of water, nestled in the heart of the Adirondack
Mountains, was one of the most popular tourist attractions on the East Coast,
much of the surrounding mountains was still as wild and untamed as it had been
for centuries. It was her job to keep both nature and those who came to enjoy it
safe.
“I’m supposed to have a summer intern starting next week.” Dev’s leg had
progressed from sore to stiff, and she climbed awkwardly up the slippery slope
in her heavy gear. When Natalie extended a hand to steady her, she grabbed it.
Natalie’s ? ngers closed on hers, warm and strong. “Thanks.”
“Hey, it’s kind of interesting.” Natalie tried to keep her expression from
revealing the precise nature of her interest as she observed the woman who had
arrived the previous afternoon at the regional park headquarters. Everything
about Devon Weber—from her collar-length, almost-but-not-quite-messy light
chestnut hair to her tight athletic build and the casual self-con? dence in her
hazel eyes—said she was a lesbian, but Natalie never relied on impressions to
make that call.
Since they were going to be working together in close proximity for the next few
months, she didn’t want to create any kind of awkwardness between them. She
was interested, but she could be patient. “Besides, I’ve got the radio, and if
something comes up, I’ll just leave you to fend for yourself.”
“That’s nice of you.” Dev grinned. “I think.”
