“Depends which side of the table you’re sitting on.”
Ron asked Calvin to send nothing electronically yet.
“I’ll check the public corporate trail first.”
“How long?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
The final call went to Jory.
That was the difficult one.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Everything okay?”
“Come in early tomorrow.”
A pause.
“How early?”
“Seven.”
“What happened?”
“I found something.”
Another pause.
“Bad?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Calvin.”
“I’m not hiding it from you. I’m making sure I understand what I’m showing you.”
She exhaled.
“I’ll be there.”
She arrived at 7:15 carrying coffee and the same tool bag she brought every morning.
Calvin was already in his office.
The photographs were spread across the desk.
Jory sat.
She looked at the first image.
Then the second.
She read the intake sheet.
By the time she reached the handwritten damage assessment, her face had gone still.
“That’s the truck.”
“We believe it is.”
She looked at the date.
Her hands lay flat on the desk.
“My father was found that Monday.”
“I know.”
She read the company number.
“Diane’s tracing this?”
“Yes.”
“And Ron?”
“Believes the company fits one of Devo’s shell structures.”
Jory stared at the photograph again.
The damage was ugly but contained.
Front-right.
Low.
The kind of impact that could happen in a parking lot.
Or a narrow garage access.
“My dad told me where Vickers walked.”
Calvin waited.
“The north side.”
She pointed as if the garage were in front of her.
“That access comes behind the building. From the street, you don’t see much unless you’re looking directly down the lane.”
“What’s there?”
“Employee parking. Delivery entrance. Side work door.”
“Was it locked?”
“Usually.”
“Did Vickers have a key?”
“Not that I know.”
Jory’s breathing had changed.
She forced it slower.
“My dad said he smiled the whole time.”
“What?”
“When he came to make the offer.”
She stared at the truck photo.
“He said that was what bothered him. Vickers smiled the whole time. Even while Dad was telling him no.”
Calvin let the silence remain.
Then Jory reached into her jacket.
She removed two small notebooks.
Both were soft at the corners from constant handling.
“What are those?”
“My records.”
“How long?”
“Since Devo’s first offer.”
She placed them on the desk.
“Every call. Every visit. Every letter. Cars parked near the shop. People asking questions. Anything that felt wrong.”
Calvin opened the first notebook.
Dates.
Times.
Descriptions.
Names.
Exact phrases where she remembered them.
Copies of licence plates.
Offer amounts.
Contractor visits.
A note about Vickers.
A note about the black pickup appearing near Baxter’s Garage three times in the month after Gerald’s hospitalization.
Calvin looked at her.