Leif Stayed Beneath The Dome Until The Evidence Could Leave

"Don't remove the card," I told Leif. "Don't break the seal. Send Rina the order."

"He gave it out loud."

"Ask him to confirm it in an email."

Leif made a sound that might have been a laugh if he had not been so tired.

"He's standing in the hall."

"Then you don't need to tell me anything else."

I ended the call and forwarded my preservation request to the district business office. I marked it urgent and included the cabinet number.

Rina called twelve minutes later.

"The business officer has stopped the cleanup," she said. "An outside auditor will collect the rig tomorrow."

"Can I be there?"

"As the technician who can explain it. With an escort. That's written authorization. Wait for the email."

For once, waiting felt like work I could do well.

I made rice. I ate three bites. On the grocery receipt, I drew five stars and joined them into a small locked box.

At eight the next morning, Mr. Bell met us at the service entrance. Rina wore boots wet from the rain. The auditor carried an empty evidence bag and a plain black notebook.

"Alma Benton," she said. "I'm here for the records. Tell me what I should touch."

"First, photograph the seal."

Leif waited inside the dome. His shirt cuffs were wrinkled.

"Did you go home?" I asked.

"Eventually. Bell stayed until the building closed."

He pointed to the cabinet. The seal still read 04418.

Alma photographed it beside the weekly sheet. Leif had signed that sheet Monday afternoon. I had signed it Tuesday at 8:12, before starting the morning test.

"Does it record sound?" Alma asked.

"No. Still images. One every five seconds during the test. Both lenses. It shuts off when the program finishes."

"Can you delete a single frame?"

"On a computer, yes. Not through the rig. That's why you should examine the card before I do anything with it."

She nodded.

I explained the sequence: dark floor, gray grid, white dome, red seam lines. The lenses saw the room as well as the ceiling because the recorder sat level with the back row. That let me check the aisle markers and the border of the dome in one test.

Victor arrived while Alma cut the seal.

"That isn't a security device," he said.

"I understand," she replied.

"She built that system."

"Then her instructions will be useful."

"The hall footage already shows her taking the case."

"What date and time?"

"Monday. Four seventeen."

I had taken it to the workbench Monday. The receipt said I had returned it at 5:06.

"We'll need the full export," Alma said. "Before and after those times."

Victor looked at me. "You seem pleased."

I was cold, hungry, and afraid. Pleased was not close.

"I would like both records checked," I said.

Alma removed the card, signed across the evidence bag, and gave Rina a collection receipt. The receipt included the card number, the seal number, and four witness names.

We went to the business office. An analyst made a protected copy while Alma watched. He calculated a long file fingerprint for the original and the copy, then printed the matching results.

"We'll work from this copy," he said.

Only then did he open the image list.

At 8:41, the room was empty.

At 8:42, I was at the console in my green work shirt.

At 8:43, I left through the main door carrying a paper cup. I remembered that cup. The lid had split, and I had gone for a napkin.

Victor entered through the service door twenty seconds later.

My stomach seemed to pull tight around nothing.

He crossed the floor. He opened the equipment closet. He tilted the portable case onto its bad wheel and dragged it toward the service exit.

Across six frames, his face turned toward the lens.

"Stop there," Rina said.

Alma held up one hand. "Keep going first."

We watched him leave. I returned with a fistful of napkins. The test ended at 8:48. No students had entered yet.

"The camera clock could be wrong," I said.

Alma looked at me.

"It usually runs about a minute slow. The daily test report has the offset. Please collect that too."

She wrote it down.

I wanted one perfect picture that would give me my life back. Alma wanted dates, seals, clocks, and records that agreed. I began to understand why her notebook mattered more than my anger.

Before we left, Leif slipped Rina an email he had printed.

His application for district science lead was under review. Victor had written that his "judgment during the equipment matter" might affect the choice. The job included a $4,200 stipend.

"Keep that," Rina said.

That evening, Alma sent a request for help identifying the case.

Attached was a purchase invoice for $11,864 and a photograph from a private event company. In the photograph, beneath a rented sky, stood our projector.