She did not look grieving.
She looked cornered.
“Jack,” she said, “give me the drive.”
He did not move. “It’s not yours.”
“It has my name on it.”
“It has everyone’s name on it.”
Karen stepped closer. “I only signed what they put in front of me.”
Jack’s voice hardened. “You signed maintenance sheets for machines that hadn’t been inspected in months. You signed off on parts that never arrived. You let them keep running line seven because shutting it down would cost too much.”
Karen’s expression shifted.
Not guilt.
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