Chapter 8
The IT guy didn't look like an IT guy. He wore the same black polo the maintenance team wore and carried a laptop that had a cracked corner and a sticker that said PROPERTY OF FACILITIES DO NOT REMOVE.
He came into the back office where Marcus had moved me. The marble table was off to my left, empty now, still glossy under the warm spots. Someone had wiped it. The white cloth I'd been lying on was gone. The silver terminal was still there, in the middle of the table, like no one wanted to touch it until he did.
Marcus was standing. I was perched on the edge of a chair that was too low, my feet barely touching the floor. My uniform felt damp at the collar.
"This is Dave," Marcus said. "He runs the terminal system."
Dave nodded at me, not unkindly, and set his laptop down. He pulled a cable from the silver rectangle and plugged it in. The terminal's little display lit up green.
"You said 15:07, three nights?" Dave asked.
"Three nights in a row," Marcus said. "Olivia's code, 4472. Approved at the green button. Paper schedule says 15:00 and 15:07 highlighted. We think the approvals were at 15:07 exactly."
Dave tapped. The laptop made a soft chime. Lines of text scrolled. He squinted.
"Yeah," he said after a second. "Here. See?"
He turned the screen so we could both see. It wasn't fancy. Just a log: date, time, terminal ID, user code, action.
10/12 15:07:11 - TERM-02 - CODE 4472 - APPROVE - GREEN
10/13 15:07:04 - TERM-02 - CODE 4472 - APPROVE - GREEN
10/14 15:07:22 - TERM-02 - CODE 4472 - APPROVE - GREEN
My chest tightened. There it was. Three lines. The same time I had been mopping the west hallway or wiping that marble table until my hands shook, someone had been standing at this table pressing a button with someone else's name.
Dave pointed with his pinky. "TERM-02 is this one. This table. Not remote, not mobile. Local keypad. Someone physically here, pressed green, entered 4472."
"Can you see failed tries? Or other codes?" Marcus asked.
Dave scrolled. "Nah. Clean entry each time. They knew the code. No typo. Straight in, approve, out. Under ten seconds."
He looked at me. "You ever use this terminal, Maya?"
"No," I said. "They told me not to touch it. Only managers."
"She wouldn't have the code anyway," Marcus said. "She was given a paper schedule and told Olivia approved it verbally. She didn't authorize."
Dave unplugged the cable. The terminal display went dark again.
"You want this exported?" he asked Marcus.
"Yes. PDF and raw. Send to me and HR, mark as evidence. Keep the chain," Marcus said. He took a photo of the screen with his own phone anyway, close enough I could see the reflection of the overhead spots in the laptop screen.
Dave packed up. "You want me to pull camera next?"
Marcus looked at me, then at the hallway where the supervisor's office light was still on.
"Yes," he said. "But quietly. Pull the office cam for those three afternoons, 14:55 to 15:15. Just the marble table area. No need to pull the whole floor yet."
Dave nodded. "Takes an hour. System's slow. I'll text when it's ready."
When he left, the room felt smaller. Marcus stayed standing next to the table, one hand resting on its edge, not quite touching the terminal.
"Local," he said, more to himself than to me. "Fifteen-oh-seven on the dot. This table. So they were here while you were here. Probably told you to go clean the far room while they did it."
I remembered that. The second night, the supervisor had said, "Go buff the conference room, I got this paperwork." I'd been so tired I'd just obeyed.
"I'm going to request the footage," he said, turning to me. His voice softened again. "That's the last piece. Once we see who stood here, we can close this without guessing about handwriting."
I swallowed. "What if the camera didn't catch it?"
"It did," he said. "That camera above the doorway faces this table directly. It's how we watch for spills. If someone pressed that button, they're on it."
He checked his watch. It was almost six.
"Go home, Maya," he said. "Dave needs an hour. Nothing else will happen tonight except waiting. You need to eat something that isn't from the vending machine."
I didn't move at first. I didn't want to walk past the supervisor's office.
May you like
He noticed. He stepped between me and the hallway and said, "I'll walk you to the back entrance. She stays in her office until I say otherwise."
We left the silver terminal sitting alone under the light, its green button dark, but now I knew it remembered everything.
