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I grin at that.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s kind of funny to specify the waterfront part when most of this neck of the woods is waterfront in some way or another. But I find it hard to believe someone would get their kicks from killing a small portion of it. Why do you care so much about it?”

Della’s eyes are red rimmed from her earlier tears, but at least they are now dry. “When the wetlands are healthy, they are the most incredible environment on the planet. People think it’s the oceans and sharks and things. But it’s the wetlands.” Something in her voice changes, becomes brighter. “People look at the marsh and mud and standing water and think it’s wasted land, but it’s not. It’s alive. It’s filtering water before it reaches rivers and drinking supplies. It’s absorbing flood water, so homes don’t end up underwater every time a storm rolls through. It’s storing carbon, cooling air, protecting the coast, and giving birds, fish, reptiles, and insects a place to breed, feed, and survive. Everything connects there: the sawgrass, the cypress, the mangrove, the frogs, the wading birds, the fish nurseries, and even the soil itself. A thriving wetland is one of the hardest-working ecosystems on earth, and people only notice when it’s been destroyed and suddenly the streets are flooding and their water smells wrong and everything beautiful that used to live there is gone.”

“How do you know it’s being poisoned?”

“I’ve spent years studying that specific ecosystem, and the data points are changing. Nothing of late matches any of my historical records. Even animal life is decreasing.”

“What do you mean? Like, the fish moved out?”

Della stands and lifts Mango into her arms. “I mean, there are protected species that should be there that just aren’t there anymore. I think someone is deliberately poisoning that part of the wetlands. The water quality results are wrong. Plant populations are collapsing. Amphibian counts are way down. Fish samples show contamination.”

There’s obviously something I’m not getting. “Who would want to poison the swamp? Developers? That makes no sense if they want people to live here.”

Her eyes meet mine, and I’m struck by the passion and commitment I see in them. “It’s easier to get wetlands reclassified if they are dead. Dead wetlands mean permits are easier, and fewer environmental protections are required, which means developers spend less to make more.”

And suddenly, the jigsaw pieces slide into place. “And you think that someone found out you’ve been digging and chased you tonight?”

“I know they have. I mean, why else would there be someone in the wetlands tonight? And who benefits from taking my laptop and my notes? My files are stored safely in the cloud. But my originals, my notebooks, were stolen. And one of my ground-level trail cameras caught someone removing markers from my survey site tonight. They’re too low, usually, to capture anything human height, but I could see their feet, and the pegs they pulled out.”

I stare at her. “Of course you have trail cameras.”

She lifts one shoulder, the hapless gesture endearing.

“I told you, you’re the conservation version of Indiana Jones.” And I can see it. “You’re the angry environmental scientist romancing around the Everglades, collecting evidence.”

“I can’t let them win.”

I stand and straighten my jeans. “Well, we can figure out the winning strategy tomorrow. But for tonight, we’ll just focus on the ‘staying alive long enough’ part. Let me show you to your room. Don’t be expecting luxury. Never had much of a need to decorate it. But the bed is comfortable and the sheets are clean.”

I pick up her bags in one hand, then guide her to the stairs with a hand on her back. Once she’s settled, I’m gonna call the clubhouse and see if there are any prospects kicking around who are willing to come play sentry for the night.

Just in case.

The room is simple. But it has a lamp on a dresser I rebuilt. And the window overlooks the trees at the end of the property. I set her bags down on the bed.

“Feel free to lock the door, if you want. I won’t be offended because I won’t know about it, given I won’t try to open it.”

“Thank you,” Della says.

For a second, neither of us moves. It’s the kind of pause that lasts a little too long. Then, I clear my throat. “You should get some sleep. Bathroom is just next door. Water’s always hot if you want a shower, and there are towels in the cupboard.”

I start backing toward the door.

“Sunny?”

“Yeah?”

Her eyes meet mine, and this time, I don’t see a hint of fear. “Thank you for stopping tonight. I honestly don’t know what would have happened to me if you hadn’t.”

Something squeezes unexpectedly inside my chest. “Anytime, Indy.”

Then, I leave and pull the door closed behind me. Two seconds later, I hear it lock.

And standing alone in my hallway, I have absolutely no idea what kind of trouble just rode home with me.