The Truck Reached The Rear Gate Before The Hold Was Lifted

I forwarded the dispatch sheet to Helen before I let myself call Zora back.

"Don't go there alone," I told her.

"I wasn't planning to. Neither are you."

Helen called us together. She had not lifted the hold. She asked the district security supervisor to meet her at the rear gate before dawn.

"Stay outside the fence," she told us. "Let us handle the gate."

I slept in pieces. Each time I woke, I saw item seven on the list.

At four, I put my timer in my pocket. I didn't set it. That morning, I wanted to hear everything.

Zora picked me up beneath a sky full of thin cloud. On the drive north, dark marsh grass spread beside the road. A shrimp boat's lights moved far out on the water.

"June asked whether the telescope was sick," Zora said.

"What did you tell her?"

"That adults were sorting out a problem."

"That's a heavy word for children. Adults."

She kept both hands on the wheel.

"It should mean something useful."

Helen stood by a district car when we arrived. The security supervisor, Mr. Lane, had parked across the service entrance. A pale strip of light showed under the dome's lower door.

At 4:41, a flatbed truck turned into the drive.

Its driver stopped short of the gate and climbed down with a clipboard.

"Morning. I'm here for the observatory lot."

Helen introduced herself and showed him the hold notice.

He frowned.

"I got a release at two yesterday."

He showed her his phone. The message came from Edwin's district email address.

The lower door opened.

Edwin stepped out wearing a windbreaker over his pressed trousers. He stopped when he saw Helen.

"This is getting absurd," he said.

"Did you send this release?" she asked.

"We had a pickup slot. There are fees for wasting it."

"Did you send it?"

"Yes. I have disposal authority."

Mr. Lane moved beside the open door.

"Please give me your district keys, Edwin."

Edwin looked past him at me.

"You brought her?"

"She stayed outside the fence," Helen said. "Give him the keys."

The ring made a small clatter in Mr. Lane's palm.

Edwin wasn't arrested at the gate. He was told he was on paid leave, that his access would be disabled, and that he would receive written instructions from personnel.

He began talking about his twenty-three years with the district.

I knew how years could be used as a shield. Mine had not helped me on Tuesday.

The driver gave his name as Owen Pike. He owned a small used-equipment business outside town.

"I'm not loading anything you're disputing," he said.

Inside the service room, the drive assembly sat on a low wheeled table. Its wires had been labeled for removal. Four bolts lay in a dish.

Through the doorway, I could see the empty mount where it belonged.

My stomach rolled.

"Nobody power that system," I said.

Mr. Lane held up a hand to keep everyone back. Helen called the service engineer.

Owen looked from the drive to his clipboard.

"I was told this came off a dead telescope."

"It ran Monday," Zora said.

"Then I want my deposit back."

Helen wrote down his request.

He stayed to answer questions. He had bought a copper lot from Edwin on November 23 for $642.90. Edwin had described it as his own material left over from a home repair.

"Do you have the ticket?" Helen asked.

"In my office. We weigh every load."

The yard ticket had the truck plate, the weight, and a seller signature. Owen said his yard camera might still hold the recording.

Helen asked him to preserve it. Then she called the sheriff's office and reported suspected theft of district property.

"The list says copper too," Owen said. "Was that supposed to be another load?"

Helen looked at the empty shelf in the service room.

"We'll need to establish what was offered and what was already gone."

He handed her his full purchase agreement. The paper made clear that the drive was a separate deal from November's weighed copper lot.

The balance, $4,200, was marked CASH AT COLLECTION.

I stood beside Zora while Edwin waited by the district car. He stared down the road, refusing to look at us.

By seven, the dome engineer had arrived. She was named Mara Chen. She had serviced the telescope since the old engineer retired.

She inspected the drive and taped a red warning across the control switch.

"I can put this back," she said. "But the brake plug has been cut. I need the proper replacement before I test it."

"Before Sunday?" Zora asked.

Mara studied the damage.

"I'll find out."

As we left, my phone rang. A sheriff's investigator wanted a statement that afternoon.

"Bring your original records," she said. "And the letter that accused you."