The video continued.
Electricity arced through the pavement.
People gathered.
Phones rose.
Nobody approached until Della came running into view wearing her orange BrightLine vest.
Rodrick stopped the footage on the cabinet door.
The inspection sticker was clearly visible.
Elena placed a magnified photograph beside it.
“BrightLine records claim this cabinet was inspected and repaired eleven days ago.
The sticker in the video has been placed over an older tag, but the lower corner lifted in the heat.
The original tag shows the cabinet failed inspection four months ago.”
One of the board members, a gray-haired woman named Celeste Warren, turned toward Ashford.
“Who signed off on the repair?”
Ashford did not answer.
Elena opened Caleb’s folder.
“The electronic approval came from Mr.
Ashford’s office.”
“That proves nothing,” Ashford said.
“My authorization code is used by dozens of managers.”
Tom made another strangled sound.
Rodrick looked at him.
“Mr.
Regan, you have been quiet for a long time.”
Tom pressed both hands against his knees.
His face had turned gray.
“I approved the crew schedule,” he said.
Ashford’s head snapped toward him.
“Careful.”
Tom flinched at the single word.
Della recognized the reflex.
It was the same way workers lowered their voices when a foreman entered the break room.
The same way Caleb had begun checking the hallway before talking about unsafe equipment during his final weeks.
“What happened?” she asked.
Tom looked at her, and shame seemed to fold him inward.
“The cabinet failed because water was getting into the lower housing,” he said.
“We submitted a replacement request.
Gerald rejected it because the quarter’s maintenance budget was already over target.”
“You told me the replacement had been completed,” Celeste said.
Tom nodded miserably.
“He ordered us to install a new sticker and postpone the work until the next quarter.”
Ashford stood.
“This is absurd.
A suspended employee and a frightened middle manager are manufacturing a conspiracy because they dislike corporate discipline.”
Rodrick’s expression did not change.
“Sit down.”
Ashford remained standing.
For years, people in Halloway had obeyed Rodrick because of the stories attached to his name.
Della had expected menace from him, perhaps anger.
Instead, he remained almost unnaturally calm.
That calm frightened Ashford more than shouting would have.
He sat.
Elena removed three photographs from Caleb’s folder.
They showed corroded bolts, a warped anchor plate, and a handwritten inspection form.
Della recognized Caleb’s blocky handwriting immediately.
REPLACE BEFORE USE, he had written across the top.
