The cupcake story was finished, but Carly didn’t email it to Donovan first thing in the morning. Instead, she waited until two minutes before the story meeting was scheduled to start to send it, hoping the editor would think she wasn’t finished and fail to assign her a new story.

She had important stuff to do and didn’t want to be sent off on another fluff piece.

Butterflies danced in her stomach as she thought about going back out to the east side of town and spying on Monroe Manufacturing. She had a box of supplies in the Kia’s trunk and had lain awake much of the night plotting.

Donovan didn’t disappoint Carly at the story meeting—he didn’t assign her anything new. She grabbed her notebook and jumped up from the chair as soon as he said, “All right, folks, have a good day.” Carly’s eyes slid over toward Donovan as she crossed the floor to leave the room. She was surprised to find him staring back. It almost seemed like he wanted to talk to her. Something about the look on his face reminded her of their fling by the ocean.

Well, she didn’t want to talk to him. Not until she was ready to hand him the story of the year on Monroe Manufacturing’s dirty deeds.

But as she hurried down the hallway toward the lobby, Donovan’s face remained in her mind. She imagined him smiling, pulling her close to him with an arm around her waist, and kissing her passionately.

Carly shoved the image out of her head and walked straight out to the parking lot, having brought her purse and coffee to the meeting with her. Though she tried telling herself she wanted to break the Monroe Manufacturing scoop to get ahead in her job, she knew deep down that wasn’t her only motive. She also wanted Donovan to see that she wasn’t like the other women he’d been with. She wasn’t interested in him just for his money or status—she could get both of those on her own. If Carly could show Donovan that she only wanted him for him, maybe he’d change his mind about waiting until thirty to find someone.

She made it to Pine Hills subdivision in twenty minutes because she broke a few road rules along the way. There was no real hurry, but Carly was too excited to dilly dally.

There was a small playground in the center of the subdivision. Carly parked there and opened the trunk. She had a duffle bag full of stuff, and she dug around to pull out the camera, tripod, and binoculars. Then she closed the trunk and started heading the direction in which Monroe Manufacturing should be.

Carly walked on sidewalks that passed nice houses, each one different and most of them large. The neighborhood was pretty quiet—she guessed most people were probably at work. She did see a few kids playing in yards, and a woman passed her on the sidewalk going the opposite direction, ear buds in while she power walked.

When she got to what she figured was the northernmost edge of the subdivision, Carly stopped and looked around. She peered along the side of the big, two-story colonial in front of her. It had a big back yard with a fence around it. On the other side of the fence, the ground sloped downward.

Back there was where she needed to be. It was probably the top of one of the hills she’d seen when she was at the plant the day before.

Carly spun in a circle to see if she could spot anyone who might see her trespass. No one was around, so she sprinted along the side of the house to the fence and then ran along it. She didn’t know if she was on the colonial’s property or the neighbor’s, but Carly didn’t stop to think other than to send up a quick prayer that neither homeowner had a dog.

When she got to the fence’s back corner, Carly had to slow down and be careful about her footing or risk sliding down the steep hill dotted with tall trees. If that happened, she’d be lucky not to break something or hit a tree with her head and knock herself unconscious. She slowly picked her way down the ridge a short way until she found a little spot between two trees to wedge herself. Carly glanced back over her shoulder to verify she was out of eyesight of the colonial and then turned to look down the ridge, bracing herself between the two trees.

A thrill of excitement rushed through her when she saw Monroe Manufacturing below her. The feeling was followed fast by disappointment. The entire back side of the complex was surrounded by a tall, solid, gray fence. Carly could see the top of the building over it but not much else. The fence was between Monroe Manufacturing and the Cross River. Carly narrowed her eyes. Well, that might be that, then. They couldn’t dump things into the river if they didn’t have access to it.

She slid down the tree at her back until her rear end hit the ground. There would be no front-page story after all. No byline. No impressing Donovan with her ability to take care of herself.

Maybe she should stop fighting to keep this job and just start looking for a different one. Find something at another paper where she didn’t have to look at Donovan every day, wanting him but not able to have him.

Carly was getting ready to haul herself up and climb back to the colonial’s backyard when a small movement caught her eye along the fence line. She fumbled for the binoculars around her neck, shoving the camera aside to get to them.

When Carly finally got the binoculars up to her eyes and focused in on the spot where she’d seen something move, her heart rate surged. A round opening had appeared near the bottom of the middle point of the fence. As she watched, a pipe just a hair smaller than the hole began to inch out, slowly moving forward until it was about three feet over the Cross River. Another few minutes went by and then liquid began to spew out of the pipe, hitting the water like jets from a hot tub.

Carly let out a tiny squeak and dropped the binoculars. She grabbed the tree in front of her and used it to help her up and then pulled the camera up. She took dozens of pictures of the fence, the pipe, and the liquid spewing into the river. Then she grabbed her cell phone and took more pictures and a video of what was happening.

She knew she had to get down there. These pictures weren’t worth anything if Carly couldn’t prove what was coming out of the pipe was a harmful chemical and that someone inside the grounds of Monroe Manufacturing was controlling its dump into the Cross.

She checked the messenger bag to make sure the bottles, safety gloves, and glasses she’d brought were in there and then studied the embankment. It was probably at least an eighth of a mile down to the river, and she was on the opposite side as the pipe. She’d be lucky to make it down without getting injured and then how would she get across the water? But there was no way Carly was giving up now. She remembered Stuart Monroe’s smug face as he told her nothing illegal was going on in his plant. Then a picture of Donovan’s face floated in front of her. She packed the camera and binoculars in her bag so they wouldn’t bang on her chest while she climbed down the ravine and left the safety of the twin trees.

Carly tried to pick a good line down the slope. Her plan was to use trees every few feet to give her something to grab and slow her descent. It worked at first, but near the bank of the river, the trees thinned to the point that they weren’t helping her anymore. She had to sit down and slide the last twenty feet until the ground evened out on the banks of the Cross.

She got up, wiped her pants off, and checked several scrapes on her hands and arms. She hoped the camera had made it unscathed. She didn’t want to have to replace it for her dad—it would take at least two months’ salary, and then she’d have to live with her parents for an extra two months.

The river wasn’t too wide, but it was moving fast enough and was deep enough to make wading across it impossible. Carly walked up and down the river a bit in both directions looking for some big rocks she could use to help her get across but the only ones she saw were too far apart and too low in the water for safety.

This plan definitely had not worked out. Carly took closer pictures of the pipe and the liquid coming out of it. She almost growled in frustration that she couldn’t get a sample.

There was no way she could climb the ridge again to get back to her car, so Carly started walking east. She hoped to find a shallower angle up the hill at some point, but what she found was even better—a way across the river. A small log spanned the distance between the banks about thirty yards from where Carly had come down the hill. It was wedged between rocks, and she’d have to leap the last couple feet on the opposite side, but it looked doable.

Carly didn’t give much thought before she started over. All that gymnastics as a kid paid off—it was as though she was on the balance beam again. Except this balance beam was slippery and Carly might die if she fell. Pushing that thought from her mind and focusing on taking one step at a time, she had to remind herself to keep breathing. She slipped a little once and cursed under her breath. Taking the last bit at a faster clip, she got near the end of the log and jumped.

Her feet barely made it to the bank. She landed on her right foot, and it immediately slid backward into the water. Carly threw herself forward onto her knees and scrambled up onto the dirt.

Her heart thundered. She ran her hands over her body, a little surprised to be alive. Then she shrugged the messenger bag off and got the gloves and sample bottles out. She climbed to her feet and hurried toward the pipe.

Carly heard the alarm when it went off behind the fence and knew she must have tripped a security device. She turned to run, but it was too late. Men came around both ends of the fence toward her. They had her cornered.

She put her best reporter face on but it slipped when she realized her press badge was in the car. Turning her back to the river, she watched both men approach. The one on her left was tall and thin with a shock of red hair peeking out from under his Jets cap. The other was shorter and meatier, with hands that looked as big as baseball mitts. He wore jeans and a flannel shirt, and his baseball cap was plain black.

“Hi, guys. How are you today?” Carly smiled brightly at the men.

“Better than you are, lady,” the big guy growled. “Come on.” He grabbed her arm, and Carly suddenly knew she was in trouble.

When she tried to wrench away, his hand kept its grip like it was made of rock. “What are you doing?” She tried to stop her voice from shaking and managed it but just barely.

“Taking you inside.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Carly said, still trying to get away. “If I’m trespassing or something, I’ll walk around front with you and wait while you call the police. But I’m not going in. Let me go.”

This time, the man didn’t reply. He simply began to walk back toward his end of the fence, pulling her along with him. The red-haired man followed along behind them. She knew somehow that these guys weren’t just going to take her inside and provide a snack and some coffee while they gave a lecture about trespassing and then let her go.

She was in danger.

Carly dug her heels into the soft riverbank ground and desperately tried to get away. “No!” she screamed. “I’m not going with you! Help!”

Pain exploded on the back of her head and everything went black.