“Which means if I find two or three more things on that Priority Habitats list in the same zone—and I think I might—the whole riparian corridor becomes eligible for state designation as a priority habitat area. Which would trigger a mandatory review of the development proposal.” Nellie pulled her knees to her chest and looked out at the tree line. The last light was moving through the canopy in glittering bands, the kind that made the forest look like it was made of something other than trees. “I’ve been doing this for eight years and this might be the cleanest case I’ve ever walked into.”
“Nellie… don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“I’m not ahead of myself! I’m exactly parallel to myself.”
“You found one plant.”
“One plant is the tenth thing I’ve found, Pal. Not the first.”
“Okay,” Paloma conceded. “Okay, that’s—that does sound like something. Sorry, I’m just nervous about the chances of youactuallywinning against the big, rich folk.”
“I hear you. But what I have sounds like more than just something.” Nellie said it carefully. Triumph before the data was solid was how you ended up overexposed in front of a county board. Hope before the data was solid, though, was just how you got out of bed. “Greater access to the northern zone would help, but Marsh’s restriction is holding so?—”
Nellie’s phone pinged against her ear. Pulling it away from her head, she spotted an email notification from none other than Gina Marsh.
“Speak of the devil,” she muttered.
“What is it?” Paloma whispered, as if she was suddenly nervous her house was bugged.
“She’s just emailed me. ‘Reaching out to check in and ask if there were any concerns I could address proactively.’ Blah blah blah… Oh…” Nellie found herself gritting her teeth. “And she specifically mentions that he hopes the access arrangement was meeting my expectations, given that adjustments had been made to ensure ‘appropriate surveying protocols’ were followed.”
Nellie looked at the tree line and thought about Gina Marsh’s face and eyes that were warm and communicated precisely nothing. “She’s rattled.”
“Or she’s watching.” Paloma was still whispering like a damsel in a spy movie.
“Both aren’t mutually exclusive.” Nellie picked a loose thread on her sleeve. “I reported theBotrychiumin my data submission today. If she’s monitoring what I send to the legal office?—”
“Then she knows you’ve found something in the zone that bothers her.”
“Good.” Rattled people made mistakes. She’d seen it in county boards, in legal teams, and in development heads who’d been certain the case was locked and then discovered someone in rain pants had been methodically undermining every assumption they’d built it on. Comfortable people missed things. Uncomfortable people got sloppy. “I’ll let you know if she tries to pull anything.”
“Nellie—”
“I’ll be careful.” She said it before Paloma could. “I’m always careful.”
“You once chained yourself to a tree for nineteen hours on four hours of sleep and a packet of rice crackers, Nellie Fuller.”
“You always take that story wildly out of context. I had my reasons. Good night, Pal.”
“Wait! Has she—? Actually, never mind.”
Nellie’s hand tightened on the phone. “Has she what?”
“Nothing. Go do your science.”
“Paloma.”
“It’s nothing. Sleep well.” The line clicked off.
Nellie sat on the porch for another twenty minutes, listening to the stream, and she did not think about what Paloma had been about to ask because the answer, in all likelihood, would have beenno.
Then she went inside. She made tea. She opened her laptop to enter the day’s field data, and yet another inbox notification appeared at the top of the screen from Gina Marsh.
She read the subject line:Revised Site Access Permissions – Action Required.
She read the body. Then she read it again, more slowly.
The email contained a two-page attachment: a revised access permission form, neatly formatted, citing operational safetyrequirements. It restricted her survey zones to exclude the upper eastern riparian corridor above the second survey boulder, the area immediately adjacent to the northern sector boundary, and—she read this sentence three times before she believed it—any area within a hundred meters of an active water feature without a company representative present.
