Mason safely removed the small side cover.
The motorcycle was cold.
Battery isolated during diagnostics.
No danger.
Eli remained several feet away beside Sarah.
Mason leaned closer.
There.
A connector partly hidden behind the harness.
Updated during Daniel’s restoration.
Weatherproof.
Locking tab.
And near it—
Blue.
Mason rubbed a gloved finger lightly against the plastic.
Fresh blue compound came away.
He stared.
Ray crouched.
“What is it?”
Mason held up the fingertip.
Ray’s face changed.
“Witness compound.”
Victor said:
“So?”
Mason ignored him.
Hale Motor Works used yellow.
Always had.
Daniel used white paint marker.
Ray occasionally used orange when checking race hardware.
Blue did not belong there.
Mason looked at the connector.
Something else.
The locking tab was not fully seated.
Very close.
Close enough to look correct without pressure.
He touched it.
It moved.
Ray whispered, “No.”
Mason pressed.
Click.
The sound was tiny.
Eli heard it anyway.
His eyes widened.
“Daddy said click.”
Mason looked toward him.
“What?”
“When plugs are happy.”
Ray covered his mouth.
Sarah laughed through tears.
Daniel had apparently anthropomorphized connectors for his four-year-old.
Of course he had.
Mason looked at Ray.
“Battery.”
Ray reconnected safely.
Victor stepped forward.
“This proves nothing.”
Mason stood.
“I haven't said anything.”
“You're acting like you found something.”
“We found a loose connector.”
“It can work loose.”
Ray looked at him.
“Not that one.”
“Anything can.”
“Sure.”
Ray's voice was flat.
“But not usually with fresh marking compound on the latch.”
Victor's eyes flicked toward the blue smear.
Tiny movement.
Mason noticed.
So did Ray.
Sarah did not.
Eli definitely did not.
Mason looked at Sarah.
“Want me to try?”
She understood what he meant.
Start the motorcycle.
The sound could frighten Eli.
Could also shatter hope if nothing happened.
She looked at her son.
Eli whispered:
“Start Daddy's bike.”
Mason nodded.
He made sure Eli and Sarah remained well away.
Ray checked neutral.
Fuel.
Clear area.
Mason turned the key.
The old motorcycle’s lights came alive.
He pressed the starter.
One revolution.
Two.
Then the engine fired.
The room exploded with sound.
Deep.
Heavy.
Alive.
Sarah covered her mouth.
Eli jumped once, then laughed.
A pure, startled laugh.
“Daddy’s bike!”
Mason stared at the machine.
For one second Daniel stood beside him.
Not literally.
Memory could be cruel like that.
A shoulder against his.