Chương 2
The old version of him would have softened immediately.
He would have found a reason.
He would have said Greg was under pressure.
He would have made himself smaller because smaller things were easier for people to keep.
But something had changed the day before.
Not everything.
Just enough.
"I reported that hydraulic issue three times."
"I know."
"You signed two of those reports."
"I know."
"And nobody stopped the demonstration."
Greg rubbed his forehead on the other end of the call.
"The client meeting was already moving."
"Machines don't care about meetings."
"I know that."
"No."
Adrien looked out the window.
"You know it now."
The call became quiet.
Then Greg said something Adrien did not expect.
"Come back."
Adrien frowned.
"What?"
"Not officially."
"Greg."
"Just listen."
The urgency in his voice changed the shape of the conversation.
"Something happened after you left."
Adrien waited.
"The Oxil system failed during a private test this morning."
The room seemed to shrink.
"When?"
"An hour ago."
"Was anyone hurt?"
"No."
Greg sounded relieved.
"Because the load test was stopped early."
"Why?"
Another pause.
Then Greg answered.
"Because someone found your notes."
Adrien looked toward the stack of black notebooks on the shelf near his desk.
His personal notebooks.
The ones nobody knew about.
"What notes?"
"Copies."
The word landed strangely.
"Copies of what?"
"Your maintenance observations."
Adrien said nothing.
"Victoria has them."
That was the first thing Greg said that made him afraid.
Not because Victoria had his notes.
Because someone had gone looking for them.
"Why would she have my notebooks?"
"I don't know."
"Greg."
"I don't know."
His voice cracked slightly.
"That's the truth."
Adrien closed his eyes.
For years, he had believed his biggest problem was that nobody listened.
Now he was starting to wonder if someone had been listening the entire time.
"Who copied them?"
Greg did not answer.
"Greg."
"I need you to come back."
"No."
The answer surprised both of them.
Adrien looked at his own reflection in the dark kitchen window.
"I need you to tell me what happened."
"Adrien."
"Tell me."
Another silence.
Then Greg lowered his voice.
"Victoria said the notes were proof that you had known about the problem."
Adrien felt something cold move through his chest.
"That is not what they prove."
"I know."
"They prove I reported it."
"I know."
"Then why would she say that?"
Greg did not answer.
Because neither of them wanted to say the possibility out loud.
Someone had changed the story before the story reached the room.
Someone had changed the story before the story reached the room.
Adrien stood in the kitchen holding the phone against his ear, listening to the faint sounds of Greg's office in the background.
A printer ran somewhere near him.
A door opened.
Someone laughed.
The ordinary sounds of a workplace continued while Adrien's entire understanding of the last eleven years shifted slightly out of place.
"Greg."
"Yeah."
"Who has access to my reports?"
"Maintenance supervisors."
"Only supervisors?"
Greg hesitated.
"Corporate has access to anything stored in the system."
"My notebooks weren't stored in the system."
"No."
"Then someone copied them."
Another pause.
"Yes."
Adrien walked toward the shelf where the notebooks sat.
There were twelve of them now.
Black covers.
Small handwritten labels along the edges.
Years of observations that had never been intended for anyone else.
He picked up the oldest one.
The cover was bent.
A coffee stain marked the bottom corner.
Maya had spilled the cup when she was three and had apologized for ten straight minutes because she thought she had damaged something important.
He had told her it was just a notebook.
At the time, he believed that was true.
"Greg, where are you right now?"
"In my office."
"Are you alone?"
The question made Greg stop.
"Why?"
"Because you sound like someone who is choosing every word."
Greg did not answer.
That was answer enough.
"Come to my house."
"Adrien."
"Not to talk about work."
He looked at the notebook in his hand.
"To talk about what happened."
Greg arrived forty minutes later carrying two coffees and a paper bag from a diner nearby.
Adrien almost smiled when he saw it.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You always say that when something is something."
Adrien took the coffee.
"You brought food."
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Greg shrugged.
"Because every serious conversation in my family starts with someone putting food on a table."
They sat in the small kitchen where Adrien had helped Maya build a volcano for her science fair three years earlier.
The dried paint was still visible along the edge of the counter.
Greg looked around.
"Your place hasn't changed."
"Not much."
"Mine changes every six months."
"Because you keep buying things?"
"Because my wife keeps saying a house should look like people live there."
Adrien glanced at him.
"Do you?"
Greg looked down at his coffee.
"Not as much as I used to."
The honesty caught Adrien off guard.
For a moment, they were not employees discussing a corporate disaster.
They were two tired men sitting at a kitchen table trying to figure out how they had ended up where they were.
Then Greg opened the paper bag.
"I got you a breakfast sandwich."
"I already ate."
"You always say that."
"I did eat."
"Adrien."
"What?"
"You have been unemployed for one day and already you are becoming more difficult."
A small laugh escaped Adrien.
It disappeared quickly, but Greg noticed.
"So."
Greg pulled a folded document from his jacket pocket.
"This was in my office printer this morning."
Adrien did not touch it.
"What is it?"
"A copy of your maintenance report from three months ago."
"I have that."
"No."
Greg pushed it across the table.
"You have your copy."
Adrien unfolded the pages.
The report looked familiar.
Same date.
Same equipment.
Same description of the vibration issue.
But there was something different.
He read the final section twice.
His eyes narrowed.
The recommendation had been changed.
May you like
His original note said:
"Recommend immediate inspection before any high-output demonstration."
