"Thank you."
The nurse squeezed her hand.
"He talked about you constantly."
The younger woman looked down.
"I know."
"He told everybody his daughter was going to build the safest bridges in Georgia."
She laughed through sudden tears.
"That sounds like him."
The nurse studied her.
Then lowered her voice.
"I heard you're looking into Cedar Bend."
The younger woman nodded.
"Yes."
The nurse's expression became serious.
"Please be careful."
The woman frowned.
"Why?"
The older nurse glanced toward the construction president.
Then back at her.
"Some people around here don't like being questioned."
The engineer gave a small smile.
"I've noticed."
The nurse didn't smile.
She leaned closer.
"Your father wasn't the only person who lost something over that bridge."
The younger woman went still.
"What do you mean?"
The nurse hesitated.
Then looked toward the luncheon tables.
"There's a retired county clerk who worked in the records department when your father was dismissed."
The woman listened.
"She's been wanting to speak with somebody she can trust."
The engineer felt her pulse quicken.
"About what?"
The nurse shook her head.
"I don't know everything."
She took a slow breath.
"But she said there was more than one inspection book."
The woman's expression changed.
The original inspection book.
Her father's final note.
The missing records.
She looked toward the nurse.
"Can you put me in touch with her?"
The older woman nodded.
"I already asked if she'd be willing."
She handed over a folded piece of paper.
Inside was a telephone number.
The engineer stared at it.
"Thank you."
The nurse squeezed her hand.
"Your father was a good man."
The younger woman's eyes filled.
"I know."
The nurse continued.
"Don't let anybody make you forget that."
For a moment, the beautiful estate disappeared around her.
She was sixteen again.
Standing in the maintenance yard.
Watching her father examine a report that carried a signature he hadn't written.
Then she folded the paper and slipped it into her handbag.
And somewhere near the back of the luncheon room, the construction company president watched the exchange.
He couldn't hear the conversation.
But he saw the folded paper.
He saw the older nurse's concerned expression.
And he saw the engineer place something inside her bag.
Within minutes, the businessman was speaking into his phone.
He didn't know what the paper contained.
But he had already decided that he couldn't afford to let it reach Atlanta.
The retired county clerk lived in a small brick house near the edge of town.
She was seventy-four.