Chapter 1

ONE

N aya Michél made it her duty to tell a story and expose the truth. She had a vested interest in each outcome. People's lives hung in the balance. And her job ensured the light shone through. Her latest story as an investigative reporter was proof of that.

Naya's cell phone buzzed, and she fumbled around her desk drawer and swiped to answer. "Hey, friend." Naya propped an elbow on her office desk, then wiggled her computer mouse.

"You ready for your meeting with Drew?" Ingram asked. Naya imagined her best friend sipping her morning tea in her office and perusing the files for the day.

"Nothing like a Monday morning meeting to jump-start the week." Naya hit send on the email with the final article on the McDaniel family, whose son needed a heart transplant. They'd almost been swindled out of a family heirloom pocket watch worth five grand when they'd taken it to a seasonal worker at Take a Chance pawn shop. Thankfully, a local had caught wind of the situation and made sure the McDaniels got their money, which had helped pay for their son's life-saving surgery.

"I've been praying," Ingram said.

"Thanks, girl." Naya wiped her clammy hands along her skirt, then straightened the pencil holder and file organizer on her desk. "Someone's got to move up in the ranks around here. This meeting could be my shot."

"God's got this."

One way or another. Naya didn't know what this meeting held, but rumors had been circulating the office that her boss, Drew Warrington, wanted to promote someone to head reporter at the Last Chance Tribune now that the previous head reporter had retired.

"In all things, God works things together for the good of those who love Him." Naya repeated the truth aloud, but it didn't make the unknown easier. If only her heart would catch up.

Naya glanced at the pictures framed on her desk.

A portrait of her family taunted her. They'd posed at the local market in Haiti, squinting against the sun. Her little brother—her best friend. Her parents. All of them now gone.

This one's for you, Dom.

Next to the family photo was an image that brought a smile: Naya and Ingram poking their heads around a palm tree at the beach. A day of sun, finding sand dollars, and a random guy paying for their dinner—although he'd definitely done it to try and get their numbers.

The pictures only told her that the future could bring any set of circumstances.

"Drew always likes what I write."

"Of course he does." Ingram chuckled. "You write with passion. You showcase the truth, not just the dry facts."

"It's what the people want." Naya made sure her stories served the readership of Last Chance County, and she would show her boss he could count on her.

Naya stood up and walked over to the break room. Her fingers shook while she poured herself a cup of her favorite Haitian coffee blend—an ode to her native country in the Caribbean. A place she hadn't ventured back to in eons.

Naya took a sip of coffee.

"If Drew offers me a promotion, I can make sure the truth stays in the light." Naya sucked in a breath. "It's go time."

"Knock 'em dead."

That's exactly what Naya intended to do. Each click of her heels on the hallway sounded in time with her heart.

Naya knocked on Drew's door.

"Come in."

She pushed open the door, and it let out a long creak. Naya rounded the corner but came up short. Seated in a chair across from her boss was fellow reporter—and her ex-boyfriend—Tucker Long. "I'm sorry if I interrupted. I can come back later."

Tucker turned in his seat and smirked. Six months ago, she'd ended their relationship, and he still acted like he had superiority over her. She didn't like the glint in his eyes at all.

"No, no. Please, have a seat. I want you both present for this meeting." Drew tapped a few papers on his desk. He extended his hand to the chair in front of him. The smile on his face accentuated the wrinkles around his eyes, and his gray hair testified to his experience after years of work in the industry as a reporter and editor. Naya intended to impress her boss with her own knowledge and skills.

"Okay." Naya plastered on a smile and took the seat next to Tucker. The chair wobbled on its unsteady legs, and she planted her feet on the ground to keep from swaying. If there had to be an audience, she would take it in stride. No way would she let Tucker intimidate her.

Drew cleared his throat. "I'm sure you're well aware the position for lead investigative reporter needs to be filled since Terry retired. And you two are my best reporters."

Naya sat straight but kept her mouth shut, resisting the urge to correct him that she and Tucker were the only two reporters at the Tribune. Given the size of the town and the readership of the paper, there wasn't money for more staff—or better equipment.

"Which makes my job here very difficult. Clearly, I have two great candidates." Drew leaned back in his chair.

"Whatever I have to do, I can show you I have what it takes for the position." Tucker scooted his chair in front of Naya and closer to the desk, then leaned forward.

Naya opened her mouth with a rebuttal, but Drew shooed his hand. "No need. I've already made up my mind on what we're going to do."

"You have?" Naya and Tucker said in unison.

"You each have one week to write a story on the water contamination catastrophe that's all the buzz right now. Whoever's story I like better, that person will receive the promotion."

Tucker sat back and lifted his chin. "Great idea."

"What about bias?" Naya added. Had Drew considered the possibility of the playing field being skewed if either of them tainted the story with a certain view to win this promotion? She would write the truth with a clear call on how it impacted the reader, whereas Tucker would no doubt write whatever he thought would get him the job. "We've always been taught to avoid bringing an agenda when writing a story. How will you ensure you remain objective in your decision and don't let your own bias influence whose article is better?"

Tucker let out a cough. "I have full confidence Drew will be assessing our writing, not us as individuals." He turned to Naya and lifted his brows. "Or our ability to spin a sensational tale that has nothing to do with the truth."

Naya bit her tongue to keep from saying something she'd regret. Even though she'd been hurt and strung along by this man, it didn't mean she had the right to retaliate. Still, she had a responsibility to speak the truth like Jesus—in love. Not out of her fleshly desire. "I guess our stories will speak for themselves." Naya crossed her arms.

"That's a valid question." Drew steepled his fingers on his desk. "You will each submit your story to Kelly, who will remove your name before sending it over to the editorial team who will vote. After they've given their feedback, I'll review the articles."

Naya stood. "Thank you, Drew. I'm honored to submit a story." She'd accept the challenge and give Drew the best story she could write.

Tucker caught up to her in the hall. "If you run out of contacts or need help, let me know. I might be able to give you one or two from the city council."

Of course he'd flaunt his access to the mayor. He'd written a story on the mayor during his campaign four years ago, and now the two were best buddies.

Naya lifted her chin. "I appreciate the offer, but I have my own methods of research. I wish you all the best." She turned her back and stepped into her cubicle.

Rely on him for help? As if.

He'd shown his true colors, and life had taught her the hard way—more than once—that people never did anything just out of the kindness of their hearts.

It proved easier to do things alone and avoid a fallout.

Naya gathered her notepad, recorder, and purse and headed for the door. One week wasn't long.

The clock was ticking toward the deadline, and Tucker would already be on the phone with city hall. She needed to get to the site of the protests that were happening. She could interview people on the scene and have something to write up by the end of the day. He might have connections, but nothing compared to getting firsthand eyewitness accounts from those directly impacted by the situation. That's where important details were that could contribute to the story.

She maneuvered her Impreza into a parallel parking spot two blocks down from the river. Thanks to the sun peeking through the clouds, it wouldn't hurt to log a few extra steps on her smartwatch today.

Chanting was audible, even from this distance, and police cars sat nearby. She made a quick stop in Bridgewater Café for apple cinnamon muffins, then headed to the park.

It had been a week since the protests started.

And two weeks since a medical report had come out with information on individuals being hospitalized. Doctors had found high levels of heavy metals and perfluoroalkyl substances, or PFAS, in those who'd come into the hospital with ulcerative colitis.

Police officers were still stationed by the pedestrian bridge where most of the Green Warriors environmental group congregated. A light breeze swayed the branches of the elm trees that covered the landscape.

Naya zipped up her windbreaker.

The extra hours of daylight were nice, but the beginning of spring still brought with it thawing temperatures.

The river had begun to rise again, and leftover winter debris had made its way into the water source. The environmental group blamed the pollution on poor water quality measures, but nothing had been confirmed yet. No one knew how the water had been contaminated with heavy metals. Right now it was just a whole lot of pointing fingers and people wanting answers.

Which was where she stepped in. People deserved to know the truth, to be empowered, so they could move forward with their lives. She would find the answers for them.

Officer Ramble and Lieutenant Basuto from the Last Chance County Police Department had staked their claims on either side of the sidewalk that led from the park to the bridge and from the bridge to the water. Ramble was maybe a year older than her and wore a mischievous look in his eye. One that would have spelled trouble if she'd accepted his invite to coffee. On the other hand, Basuto was older. Married.

"Long day?" Naya approached Basuto.

"More like long night too. And it's only eleven in the morning." Basuto rubbed his jaw.

"The twins?" Naya asked.

"They don't quite understand what it means to sleep past five."

Naya grimaced. "Ouch. And Sasha?"

"She's a champ. Two more months until the due date."

Naya grinned. "She's a tough one." The few times Naya saw her in the grocery store, the woman knew how to keep order with those kids.

Basuto chuckled. "At least it's peaceful protesting so far today. There're no other civilians we have to keep an eye on over there either." He pointed to the playground, which was void of any children. The cooler temperatures were keeping spring fever at bay for a little while longer.

"Hopefully this will make your shift more manageable." She handed him a muffin.

Basuto's eyes widened and he tore open the wrapper. "This is fantastic," he mumbled in between bites.

Naya laughed. "May I?" She pointed to the bridge. She wanted to get firsthand viewpoints from the protestors. One thing she'd learned over the years—there were always two sides to a story.

"Have at it." Basuto extended his arm. "You know I wouldn't want your job any day."

"It's not so bad. At least I don't have to stand in one place."

He smiled. "True that."

After stopping to hand out the other muffins to the officers, Naya pulled out her pen and paper and made her way up the incline onto the bridge. She went over to a cluster of women among the crowd. "Hi, my name is Naya Michél, and I'm a reporter with the Last Chance Tribune. Can I ask you some questions?"

"Sure, girl. The name's Sylvia." A young woman with a bleach-blonde pixie cut extended her hand, and they shook.

"I'm Veronica." A middle-aged woman with long jet-black hair gave a wave. A sleeve of tattoos covered her forearm. One said Love our people and earth.

"What exactly have you been protesting out here?" Naya shook Veronica's hand.

Sylvia pushed hair back from her face. "We've been out here taking a stand for the health of our community and families. Everyone has the right to clean water. Not only the creatures who live in it but the people who drink that water."

Naya hit the record button to capture the whole conversation in case she wasn't able to jot down everything either of the women mentioned. Whether she agreed with the woman or not, she needed to be careful not to weave her personal opinions into the mix of information. Everyone had passions. Often from experiences that fueled their drive for a cause. She just needed to learn what that drive was motivated by. A true desire to better the community, or a personal benefit?

"What prompted you all to start coming out here to take a stand?" Naya jotted down the notes.

Veronica stepped forward and shoved her hands in her pockets. "My aunt is in the hospital with ulcerative colitis and they're doing a biopsy on a lump in her thyroid. Her blood work came back with high levels of heavy metals. She's just one of many who grew up in Last Chance County and are now suffering from long term exposure to chemicals. Of course, people began to ask questions." She huffed. "Everyone deserves a high-quality life. The only way to do that is to take care of our earth. That's when this group, Save Our Land and Make a Stand , began to establish action steps."

Sylvia nodded. "If people are sick, the wildlife in our freshwater is suffering too. Someone needs to be held accountable for the lack of water quality measures."

"Do you all have regular meetings?" If Naya conversed with the other group members in a less high-stakes environment, she could get their perspectives too.

"Oh yeah. The second and fourth Tuesday of the month at six thirty in the evening. We meet in Room 4 at the community center. But anyways…" Sylvia shook her head like Naya had discussed a less important issue. "Another report showed high levels of contaminants in the fish in our lakes. That's when we knew this was a bigger issue."

"Who are you hoping will notice these protests? Where do you want to see a change?" Naya flipped the page of her notebook and held her pen ready.

"Ethos Fire Solutions on the west side of town. Rumor has it those people have been dumping their toxic waste into the stream that feeds into the river. Polluting everything in its path from the soil to the water. Isn't that right, Sylvia?"

"You nailed it." Sylvia pumped her fist in the air.

"We even have a group down at the entrance to the plant now protesting. Because what do we want?" Veronica cupped her hands around her mouth.

"Take a stand." People began to shout. "Save our land!"

As if on cue, the entire group began to stomp in unison. The bridge began to shake under their weight, and Naya grabbed the wooden railing for support.

"Have you talked with anyone at Ethos to set up a meeting?" Naya yelled, but Sylvia and Veronica were focused on rousing the crowd. She tapped Sylvia on the shoulder and kept a firm grip on the railing with her other hand.

The woman turned around and glowered. "What?"

"I don't think this is a good idea." Naya pointed to the wooden slats that held them on the bridge. With each stomp, the wood creaked, and some of the warped pieces from years of exposure to the elements began to buckle inward.

"If you're not in the fight with us, you're against us." Sylvia narrowed her gaze and began to jump. "Take a stand!"

Soon the people were no longer stomping. Everyone was jumping.

Naya turned around to steady herself and make her way off the bridge. In her peripheral vision, Basuto and Ramble jogged over to the structure.

Ramble blew his whistle. "That's enough. We need everyone off the bridge."

Instead of complying, the amped-up group raised their voices and whistled back.

Basuto had his hand wrapped around his cuffs and made his way up the left side of the bridge. "Folks! Everyone off this bridge for your own safety!"

Naya slid her hand along the railing and squeezed past a few people. She ducked around signs some of the members thrust in the air. The chanting and jumping continued.

No one was listening.

The bridge gave an audible groan.

Naya stumbled sideways.

Her notepad and recorder flew out of her hand, and she grasped for the other part of the railing. Air whooshed around her. People's screams pounded in her eardrums as the bridge gave way.

Naya's grip on the railing slipped, and she pinched her eyes shut. She was about to fall to her death.