Norah said they were, with Priya overseeing the plan. "Then I'll come," Owen replied. "But I'm coming to explain what the trucks need, not to perform for the people who fired me." The next morning, Owen got up at his usual hour and stood in the dark kitchen listening to the refrigerator hum.
His body expected him to put on a uniform and drive to Columbus, and for several seconds he almost followed that old routine without thinking. Then he remembered the difference between going to a job and going to a board meeting as someone who no longer worked there. He chose a clean canvas coat instead of his shop shirt, put a legal pad into the passenger seat, and checked that his wallet contained the identification he might need at the gate. Marie watched from the doorway as he tied his boots.
"You don't have to let them make you small again," she said. Owen straightened. "I'm not going for that." She crossed the kitchen and rested her hand against his chest. "You said the same thing yesterday when you told me you weren't worried about work."
He smiled faintly. "I was worried about work. I wasn't worried about the trucks being held. That's the first good news I've had all week." Marie considered the distinction and nodded, although she still looked afraid.
He kissed her forehead before leaving, then stopped with one hand on the door. "I don't know what's going to happen," he admitted. Marie took the truth as the small gift it was. "Neither do I.
Just don't tell them what they want to hear because you're worried about me." Owen looked at the insurance folder on the table, then at her face. "I'll tell them what I know," he said. "That's the only way I can do it."
He arrived at the Columbus yard a little before nine. The security guard at the entrance recognized his pickup and began lifting the barrier automatically, then hesitated when the computer showed Owen's credential inactive. Owen stopped, rolled down his window, and waited for the guard to check with the office. The guard apologized twice, but Owen told him to follow the procedure. "That's what it's there for," he said. It was an awkward start to a meeting about the importance of procedures that existed for reasons more serious than convenience.
Walking through the maintenance building as a visitor felt stranger than Owen expected. The place smelled the same, and someone had put fresh coffee on the counter, but his name was missing from the morning assignment sheet. He passed the locker area and saw his old cabinet standing closed with a security seal, the remaining tools awaiting inventory. A mechanic raised a hand in greeting and then looked uncertain whether he was supposed to speak. Owen nodded without stopping, unwilling to make the crew choose between affection for him and fear of another confrontation.
Norah met him near the stairwell. "The engineers are still working through the high-risk units," she said. "We cleared a few after repeated tests, but several need component replacement. Parts are being expedited." Owen asked whether Dayton's records had been recovered, and she said they had found enough receiving information to narrow the first group.