That was the first moment since the conversation began that true caution entered his face.
The attorney saw it.
The woman did too.
“You do.”
The father looked toward his daughter.
Then toward the hallway.
A narrow staircase led upstairs.
He said:
“I might.”
The woman leaned back.
The attorney spoke.
“You are under no obligation to provide anything without your own counsel.”
The father looked at him.
That answer surprised him.
The attorney continued:
“In fact, given what you’ve described, I recommend you do not give us original materials today.”
The woman glanced toward her lawyer.
He shrugged.
“It’s true.”
The father looked between them.
“That is the first trustworthy thing anyone with corporate counsel has said in my kitchen.”
The woman smiled faintly.
Then became serious.
“I’m not asking you to trust us.”
“Good.”
“I’m asking whether you will help me determine if people are currently being put in danger.”
The father’s expression changed.
That was different.
Not employment.
Not settlement.
Safety.
He sat.
“How many complaints?”
The woman opened another section.
“Thirty-seven in six months.”
“How many in temperatures below twenty-five degrees?”
The safety director checked.
“Twenty-nine.”
The father’s face hardened.
“How many coded customer no-show?”
“Fourteen.”
“Weather cancellation?”
“Nine.”
“Mechanical?”
“Six.”
“Any platform drift mentioned?”
The man searched.
“Three.”
The father stood again.
“Pull every vehicle using that emergency leveling module out of service.”
The woman said:
“We cannot remove eight hundred vehicles without confirmation.”
“Yes, you can.”
The acting director looked toward her.
The father continued:
“You asked what I think.”
“I think if you wait for somebody to fall because you want certainty, you're repeating exactly what happened seven years ago.”
Silence.
The woman studied him.
“How quickly can it be confirmed?”
“If you have a cold chamber?”
“We do.”
“Two hours.”
The safety director said:
“Our engineering laboratory is twenty minutes away.”
The father looked toward the clock.
7:51.
Then toward his daughter.
Preschool started at eight-thirty.
He had a maintenance shift at a food-distribution warehouse at nine.
The woman saw his calculation.
She said:
“We can arrange childcare.”
“No.”
“I didn't mean—”
“No strangers with my daughter.”
“Understood.”
The little girl raised her hand again.
“I can come.”
“No.”
“I’m good at laboratories.”
“You have never been inside one.”
“I could still be good.”
The safety director looked away to hide a smile.
The woman said:
“What if we test after you drop her at preschool?”
The father looked at her.
“You’re assuming I’m coming.”
“Yes.”
“That is dangerous.”
“I learned that last night.”
He almost smiled.
Then the woman added:
“We’ll compensate you as an independent consultant at whatever reasonable rate your own attorney recommends.”
“I don’t have an attorney.”
“We can give you a list—”
He raised one hand.
“Your attorney will not help me choose my attorney.”