Independent engineers arrived by afternoon.
Line Four had multiple unauthorized modifications.
The machine could operate.
It was not safe.
One failed hydraulic sensor could allow a mistimed cycle.
One worker entering the protected zone at the wrong moment could be crushed.
That sentence appeared in the preliminary report.
Beth read it twice.
Then a third time.
Jimmy stood beside her outside the plant.
Workers had gone home.
Sunlight had broken through clouds.
The asphalt steamed slightly.
Beth handed him the report.
“You were right.”
He did not look pleased.
“I wanted to be wrong.”
“I know.”
He read.
Then folded it.
“What's next?”
“External counsel.”
“Forensic IT.”
“Independent compliance.”
“And Mercer?”
“Restricted from operational systems.”
“Does he know?”
“Probably now.”
Jimmy nodded.
Beth looked toward him.
“You should go home.”
“I was planning to.”
She hesitated.
“To Lucy.”
“Yes.”
“Can I come?”
Jimmy looked surprised.
“Why?”
“I want to explain why her father's day became weird.”
He laughed.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because showing up with the billionaire CEO who owns the company that fired me will make things less weird?”
“Fair.”
He smiled.
Beth continued:
“Dinner?”
Jimmy stared.
“With me.”
“I understood.”
“You look frightened.”
“I've seen your SUV.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Jimmy looked toward parking lot.
Then at her.
“Lucy will ask questions.”
“I've faced boards.”
“You have not faced Lucy.”
Beth smiled.
“I'll risk it.”
Jimmy sighed.
“Seven.”
She nodded.
Then he pointed toward her boots.
“Not those.”
Beth looked down.
“What is wrong with my boots?”
“Nothing.”
“Then?”
“My driveway is gravel.”
She smiled slowly.
“I own other shoes.”
“I'm relieved.”
At seven twelve, Beth arrived at Jimmy Sullivan’s house wearing jeans.
Lucy opened the door.
Stared.
Beth smiled.
“Hi.”
Lucy did not answer.
Jimmy appeared behind her.
“Lucy.”
She whispered loudly:
“That's Elizabeth Crawford.”
Beth raised eyebrows.
Jimmy looked toward daughter.
“How do you know?”
“I have internet.”
“You're twelve.”
“That does not stop internet.”
Beth laughed.
Lucy turned toward her father.
“You lost your job and brought home the CEO?”
“Technically she followed me.”
Beth said:
“I was invited.”
Jimmy sighed.
“This is already going badly.”
Lucy opened the door wider.
“Come in.”
House was small.
Two bedrooms.
Old hardwood.
Books everywhere.
A half-built robot occupied the dining table.
Beth stopped.
“What is that?”
Lucy’s face immediately changed from suspicious to excited.
“Line-following autonomous sorter.”
Jimmy added:
“It sorts socks.”
Lucy glared.
“It can sort anything.”
“Currently socks.”
Beth crouched beside the machine.
“You built this?”
“Most of it.”
“How?”