On the way home, Rosa asked what he intended to do if the city still tried to award the contract to Peton the next morning. Clayton looked through the windshield at gray fields and distant farmhouses. He told her he would ask Ingrid to enforce the bid procedures she had already written, no more and no less. If she refused, Rosa would file for emergency relief, and the fight would continue after the opening.
"You understand we could lose tomorrow," she said.
"Yes. I've understood that since Saturday. But I also know what we have in the records. We shouldn't pretend there is no path forward just because they're trying to make the deadline feel like the end of the world."
At home that evening, Erica was ironing her hospital uniform while Hope finished a math worksheet. Clayton brought out a charcoal suit and a Kelly-green tie, the same color as the hoodie he had worn during the arrest. He pressed the tie twice, then a third time because his hands needed something ordinary to do.
Erica watched him. "It doesn't keep wrinkling," she said gently. "You're nervous."
"I know." He set the iron upright. "I'm afraid of losing the sign more than anything. I can sell cars somewhere else, but that building is the place Dad chose when everybody else told him not to bother. I don't want Hope growing up remembering it as an empty gray wall."
"Then do what you've done all along," she said. "Read the paper. Tell the truth. Let the other people decide whether they're willing to put their names beside a lie."
She took the rescued badge from the kitchen table and pressed clear tape across the edge of Hope's star. "Wear this inside your jacket. She'll know it's there."
Clayton did. Later, while looking through the bid materials once more, he found the non-collusion affidavit every bidder would sign before the envelopes were opened. Its language included an affirmation that the bidder had not offered or provided improper gifts, loans, favors, or benefits to city officials connected to the procurement.
He underlined the word "loans." For six and a half years, Sutcliffe's truck had carried Peton Motors dealer registration. The record alone could not prove the financial arrangement, but it made the affidavit a public question Peton would have to answer. Clayton placed the dealer plate printout behind the relevant page of the bid packet.
Sherman arrived after ten with the temporary fleet-testing remote wrapped in Ambrose's yellow chamois. He had cleaned it carefully and checked that it remained within the inventory assigned to Reed until final delivery. He told Clayton to bring it to city hall so no one could pretend the September demonstration had been a trick performed with someone else's property.
"You think Dad would have been this calm?" Clayton asked.
"He wasn't always calm," Sherman replied. "He was scared plenty. He just never wanted fear to decide which wrench he picked up. And he wasn't afraid to open the shop Friday morning even if Thursday went wrong. Remember that."