"If climbers had died on those ropes..." Serena let the sentence hang.
Max held Laney’s hand as she stood. During their brewery interview, she'd shown him contamination charts, test results, scientific proof. Now her voice shook with the human cost. "The brewery’s spring was contaminated. Not all at once. Gradually. Flavors going off, batches ruined. I ran tests and found toxic chemical levels that shouldn't exist naturally."
Max added. "If Laney hadn't caught it, we'd have lost everything."
Joy’s cousin, Henry Kincaid, didn't stand. His interview had been the shortest, but his quiet voice now filled the space. “The Nature Center faced constant setbacks. Boundary markers moved. Windows broken. Construction delays from vandalism."
"Someone was threatening our contractor,” Ivy added. “They wanted us to give up. To decide it wasn't worth fighting."
The room had gone completely silent. Heath nodded to Joy. She stood slowly, hands gripping the chair in front of her.
"My problems started three days ago." Her voice carried despite its softness. "Beehive equipment moved. A gate latch that worked fine suddenly sticky. Things that could be explained away."
She paused, gathering herself. "Two nights ago, someone destroyed my goat pen. Fifteen goats scattered into the forest. One injured badly. My pregnant doe nearly drowned in mud."
Her knuckles went white on the chair back. "They could have died. All of them. Because I ignored the warning signs."
She sat quickly. Andre fought the urge to go to her. The memory of her scratched hands and injured feet, her exhausted determination, made his chest tight.
"No one's safe," someone whispered.
Rollo stood at the front table, moving to a whiteboard. "Officer Holt's investigation revealed a clear pattern." His handwriting was precise, listing what Andre had documented. "Testing phase first. Small incidents to gauge response. Then escalation to property damage. Finally, direct attacks on livelihoods or people."
"But why?" Ellen Cooper's voice cracked. "Who gains from hurting us?"
"That's what we're trying to determine," Andre said. "During interviews, several people mentioned receiving letters or calls about selling their properties. We need to know if others have had similar contacts."
"I got a letter last week," called out James Wasson. "Some company called High Timber Holdings. Asked if I'd considered retirement."
"Mountain Pure LLC sent me three letters about water rights," added Nancy Torres. "Said they'd make a generous offer."
More voices joined in. Letters about mineral rights. Calls about development opportunities. Vague inquiries about whether properties might be for sale.
Rollo added each company name to his list. High Timber Holdings. Mountain Pure LLC. Apex Development Partners. Green Mountain Ventures. Klamath Investment Group.
"All within six months," Joy said. "Different companies, different focuses, but the timing..."
"I can check something," Damien Fellows said, pulling out a laptop. Fingers flew across keys while the room watched. "They're all incorporated in Delaware."
"Within the same week," Gage added, reading over his shoulder. "Actually, within three days of each other."
The room erupted. Voices rose in anger and fear. This was real. Organized. Deliberate.
"This reminds me of something that happened on Fate Mountain before shifters came out to the public.” Rollo rubbed his weathered jaw, eyes distant. He moved to Damien’s laptop. "Andre, can you help with the projector?"
Andre helped set up the equipment while Rollo searched. Soon, grainy newspaper images filled the screen. Headlines from the 1970s made people lean forward.
"Crown Mountain Resort Project Collapses" "Developer Samuel Prescott Loses Fortune" "Local Opposition Defeats Resort Plans"
A photograph showed a man in a suit standing before pristine mountain views. Rolled blueprints filled his arms. His confident smile belonged to someone who'd never heard the word no.
"Samuel Prescott tried to buy Fate Mountain in the seventies," Rollo explained. "Wanted to turn it into an exclusive resort. When locals resisted, strange accidents started happening. Equipment failures. Fires. Missing livestock."
"My father talked about those days," Agnes Mueller said from the back. "Said Prescott believed the mountain belonged to him by right. That locals were stealing his vision."
Rollo clicked to another article. "When his project failed, Prescott blamed what he called 'unnatural forces.' Claimed the mountain was cursed by demons. He died in 1978, still ranting about his stolen legacy."
Silence fell as implications sank in. That was before shifters had come out to the public.
