He stared.
Caldwell saw the expression.
“Not sealed.”
“Good.”
Inside was a formal letter from the U.S. Attorney’s Office.
It thanked George for his professionalism during the Delwood interruption and documented that his actions had preserved the integrity of federal material during an unexpected law-enforcement encounter.
George read it once.
Then folded it.
Caldwell asked:
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Still doing federal routes?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
George looked amused.
“Because they pay Meridian.”
Caldwell laughed.
Then became serious.
“You know what I mean.”
George thought.
“Because I did nothing wrong.”
Caldwell nodded.
He continued.
“I stopped for two days.”
“That felt worse.”
“Like he got to change my work.”
“So I came back.”
Caldwell leaned against the desk.
“Has it gotten easier?”
George looked toward the depot floor.
Drivers loading vans.
Scanners chirping.
Forklift reversing.
Ordinary work.
“Different.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“It’s the answer.”
Caldwell accepted that.
Before leaving, she said:
“I use your case in training now.”
George frowned.
“My name?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“We call it the courier incident.”
“What do you teach?”
“That authority does not improve instinct.”
George looked at her.
Caldwell continued.
“If anything, authority makes bad instinct more expensive.”
George smiled.
“That’s pretty good.”
“I stole it from an instructor.”
“Figures.”
She left.
George put the federal letter inside his locker.
Not framed.
Not displayed.
Just stored.
Two years after Delwood Circle, George’s daughter Simone moved back to the area.
She bought a small house fifteen minutes from his.
One Saturday, she asked him to help assemble a bookshelf.
George arrived with tools.
She opened the door.
“You’re late.”
“Seven minutes.”
“Late.”
“You sound like Diane.”
“That woman knows things.”
They worked in the living room.
Halfway through, Simone found the folded note from the Delgado children inside George’s toolbox.
WE SEE YOU.
She looked at him.
“You kept this?”
George took it.
“I forgot it was there.”
“Liar.”
He smiled.
Simone sat on the floor.
“Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if nobody recorded?”
George stopped tightening the shelf bracket.
The question had visited him before.
Many times.
“I don’t know.”
“You had the federal office.”
“Eventually.”
“But the video mattered.”
“Yes.”
Simone stared at the note.
“That scares me.”
George sat back.
“It scares me too.”
She looked at him.
“You always say staying calm helped.”
“It did.”
“But it didn’t stop him.”
“No.”
“You followed every rule.”
“Yes.”
“And he arrested you anyway.”