The technician handed her the keys.
She looked toward the car.
For several moments, she didn't move.
Then she smiled.
“Beautiful.”
The technician nodded.
“Ready to go.”
She walked around the vehicle.
Touched the polished door frame.
Then opened the handbag she'd brought with her.
It was the same designer bag the sergeant had thrown onto the pavement.
The damaged fittings had been restored.
The leather had been repaired.
And the small gold clasp gleamed again.
She placed it carefully on the passenger seat.
Then stood looking at it.
The technician noticed her expression.
“You okay?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“Brings back memories?”
She looked toward the interior.
Then answered quietly.
“More than I expected.”
For a moment, she remembered the sergeant's face.
The anger.
The arrogance.
The way he demanded evidence he couldn't properly identify.
Then she remembered the two black SUVs arriving.
The investigators stepping out.
The three officers freezing.
And the revelation that the entire search had been part of a scheme much larger than an ordinary traffic stop.
She touched the edge of the seat.
Then looked toward the technician.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you ever worry about what happens when a repair goes wrong?”
He looked surprised.
“Every day.”
She smiled.
He continued.
“That's why we check our work.”
She nodded.
He looked toward the car.
“Sometimes a part arrives defective. Sometimes a measurement is wrong. Sometimes we discover something we didn't expect.”
He shrugged.
“You don't pretend the problem isn't there. You fix it.”
The CEO stared toward him.
Then began smiling.
Her father would have loved that answer.
She thanked the technician.
Then lowered herself into the driver's seat.
The restored interior smelled faintly of new leather.
She adjusted the mirrors.
Fastened the seat belt.
And started the engine.
The familiar sound filled the repair facility.
For a moment, she closed her eyes.
Then she smiled.
She hadn't stopped loving the car.
She hadn't surrendered the pleasure of owning something beautiful simply because other people had tried to use it against her.
And she wasn't going to let the memory of one terrible afternoon determine how she lived the rest of her life.
She drove carefully out of the building.
Into the afternoon sunlight.
And toward Manhattan.
Two weeks later, Lattice Integrity announced a new public-interest initiative.
The company would provide technical assistance and educational resources to qualifying organizations helping residents resolve complex vehicle-record disputes.