Chain of Custody

"He isn't here," I say.

"Exactly."

Diane's approval is hard to earn and easy to lose. She spent years navigating the Vale family's private channels. Now she refuses to become one.

Dev enlarges the edge of a paper visible above the shred bin. Most of the type is unreadable, but a sequence of letters sits beside a small diagram.

"It may be a supplier specification," he says. "Or a lunch order. Resolution isn't evidence."

"Could we enter the room with security?" Tessa asks.

Diane shakes her head. "The access alert goes to procurement administration. If the photograph is current, someone will know before we reach the stairs."

I picture myself storming through the warehouse in the name of protecting the project. The old version of this story would reward that kind of bravery. The real version would produce a dramatic confrontation and a ruined case.

"Then we don't go," I say.

Tessa looks relieved. "Good. I wore shoes for sitting."

Counsel asks Dev whether the records have an independent duplicate.

"Vendor invoices, maybe not. Certification documents are different. Any part that touches ride safety should have a copy in the technical archive, and another may have gone to the insurer or municipal inspector."

"Should?" I ask.

"Safety systems contain a lot of that word."

He explains that certification packages connect approved designs, manufacturers, serial batches, testing results, and installation records. Even if someone destroyed a procurement file, the technical copy could reveal what Wondervale claimed it purchased.

Diane remembers an older archive index stored outside the North Service network. She does not offer to retrieve it secretly. Instead, she tells counsel where it is and waits while formal authorization moves through legal, safety, and records management.

The process takes fifty-three minutes.

During that time, Tessa circles the room twice and I resist checking whether Elliot has heard about the photo through some other channel. Our agreement from last night does not grant him automatic access to protected evidence. It does require me to tell him when the choice changes our shared life. Right now, it is my professional responsibility, not a relationship secret.

Counsel uses the wait to establish what we can say about the anonymous source. The photograph has no reliable capture time. Files may have entered the shredder or been pulled back out for a staged image, and the sender's purpose remains unknown. Those limits determine how we handle the message.

Counsel also separates three records that could corroborate different pieces: the phone provider can preserve receipt time, records management can verify the folders' labels, and Dev can compare any visible part numbers with the technical archive. None can prove what happened inside the shredder. Each request goes to its own custodian so one uncertain image does not become its own confirmation.

Tessa writes those limits at the top of her notes. "I hate how much responsible investigation sounds like admitting you know nothing."

"Knowing the edge of your knowledge is the useful part," Diane says.

"That should be printed on every executive elevator."

At eight twelve, counsel authorizes Dev to search the technical archive with an independent records officer present. Tessa and I watch through a documented video link. Diane remains at the table and reads index numbers from an old binder.

They find the first certification package quickly. It matches an accessible vehicle restraint purchased two years ago. The second has a missing scan but a paper receipt. The third is stranger.

"Read the manufacturer code again," Dev says.

The records officer does.

Dev types it into a safety database. "That belongs to Norvale Motion Systems."

Diane frowns. "I don't recognize the name."

"They make secondary locking assemblies. Wondervale tested one of their products six years ago and rejected it after stress cycling."

Tessa leans toward the screen. "Why is it in a current certification package?"

Dev does not answer. He compares the certificate against the installation ledger, then asks the officer to turn the page toward the camera.

The document lists the approved supplier we expected. Beneath it, a handwritten substitution code points to Norvale.

"Could it be a clerical carryover?" I ask.

"It could," he says. "Which is why nobody touches the affected equipment until we confirm."

The room seems to contract around us.

"Affected equipment?"

"One prototype vehicle used during off-hours testing. It isn't open to guests." He pauses. "But the certification claims Wondervale bought a Norvale assembly. Procurement records show no purchase from Norvale at all."

Dev immediately places the prototype under a written engineering lock, even though it is already stored out of service. He also checks whether the disputed assembly number appears in any guest-facing attraction. The first search returns no match. He refuses to call that an all-clear until the older paper logs are reviewed.

That distinction matters. Reassurance would be easier. Accuracy protects people.

Counsel directs us to stop discussing theories. The officer scans the package into an evidence repository while Dev narrates each step and records the hash values. She seals the paper copy in an envelope. Outside counsel takes my phone and the anonymous message, logging every handoff.

The photograph may never prove who destroyed what. The certificate can prove something else: the company represented that it possessed a safety part it cannot show it purchased. That is a smaller fact, but it has real operational weight.

"Who signed the substitution?" Tessa asks.

Dev angles the scan. "The code belongs to procurement approval. Senior level."

"Jonah?"

"A code is not a person," Diane says.

Tessa exhales. "You and Rina should start a club."

"We meet on Thursdays. No assumptions allowed."

Despite everything, I smile.

We prepare a restricted factual summary for Elliot and the operations team. I add one sentence explaining that I received the source image and transferred it without investigating independently. Our new trust has to survive the pressure of him seeing that choice without turning it into praise.

Before I send it, Dev calls my name.

He has opened a separate purchase registry used by receiving docks. The approved supplier appears there. Norvale does not.

"There are only two clean explanations," he says. "The certificate is false, or the part arrived under another vendor's name."

"And the unclean explanations?"

"Those are the same explanations with intent attached."

He taps the screen, where the disputed part number sits beneath Wondervale's logo.

"Whatever this says, Mira, the company certified a part it officially never bought."