Linda finally said:
“I keep seeing your arms.”
Naomi looked down.
“I used to cover them.”
“Why?”
“People stared.”
“That’s all?”
Naomi hesitated.
“No.”
“Then why?”
Naomi pressed the phone closer.
“Because every scar reminded me that trying wasn't enough.”
Linda closed her eyes.
“You think you failed him.”
“I did.”
“You couldn't get him out.”
“Exactly.”
Linda shook her head.
“That is not the same as failing.”
Naomi looked through the glass.
“You weren't there.”
“No.”
Linda’s voice broke.
“But he gave you that necklace.”
“He wouldn't have done that if he thought you abandoned him.”
Naomi cried quietly.
Linda continued.
“I spent three years imagining him calling for help while you stood outside.”
“I hated you for that picture.”
Naomi whispered:
“I know.”
“Now I keep imagining the real thing.”
“You burning.”
“Breaking glass.”
“Trying.”
Linda’s face crumpled.
“I don't know which image hurts more.”
Naomi could not answer.
Linda reached toward the glass.
Naomi raised her hand.
Their palms aligned through the barrier.
Then Linda said something Naomi did not expect.
“I believe you.”
Naomi stopped breathing.
Linda repeated:
“I believe you tried to save him.”
Not innocence.
Not yet.
But enough to shatter something inside Naomi.
She bent forward, crying.
Linda remained.
Federal agents arrived at Hale Automotive at 6:40 the next morning.
Marcus Hale was gone.
Garage locked.
Office emptied.
Computer tower missing.
Several file cabinets open.
Security footage showed Hale leaving shortly after midnight in a pickup truck towing an enclosed trailer.
Investigators issued an alert.
His home was empty too.
Inside the garage, however, they found something he missed.
An old hydraulic press.
Metal shavings.
Boxes marked with component numbers linked to Harrington Automotive’s subcontractor.
Then an employee came forward.
Twenty-two-year-old technician Caleb Morris.
He had worked nights two years earlier while attending trade school.
Caleb remembered strange vehicles arriving after hours.
No work orders.
Hale handled them personally.
“He told us they were manufacturer test cars.”
“Did you ever work on Naomi Carter’s vehicle?”
Caleb looked frightened.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The day before the crash.”
Daniel, watching through interview-room glass, nearly stopped breathing.
“What did you do?”
“Hale told me to remove the factory master cylinder.”
“Why?”
“He said Harrington was testing a revised part.”
“Did Naomi authorize this?”
“I never met her.”