CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: THE CONTRACTOR’S CHOICE
Paul Vick sat in his parked car outside the school for twenty minutes before calling his business partner.
He had accepted the Crestwood assignment because Meridian needed the contract to survive another quarter.
His company had been hired to recommend service changes, not investigate police misconduct.
He had repeatedly told himself that the difference excused his decision to accept the figures without checking them.
Now he could hear Marisol’s voice whenever he closed his eyes.
“Did you know the numbers were wrong?”
His partner answered on the fourth ring.
“How did the meeting go?”
“They postponed the changes.”
“That’s a problem.”
“The report is a bigger problem.”
Vick explained the mismatched locations and the absence of underlying traffic observations.
His partner interrupted.
“The city approved the data.”
“The city approved a dataset.”
“That’s the same thing for the contract.”
“Not for the people who nearly lost their bus stops.”
A silence followed.
“If you retract our conclusions,” his partner said, “we may have to refund the fee.”
“Then we should find out what we actually delivered.”
“You’re volunteering to destroy the company.”
“I’m trying to stop us from defending something we cannot support.”
His partner ended the call without agreeing.
Vick stared at the dark school windows.
He had come to Crestwood expecting to discuss service efficiency.
He was leaving with the uncomfortable knowledge that an elegant presentation could hide a very ordinary failure of judgment.
The following morning, Meridian issued a written correction to the transportation office.
It identified which conclusions required further verification and asked the city not to rely on the disputed obstruction totals pending a proper review.
The correction did not absolve the company of responsibility.
Vick’s partner accused him of acting without authorization, and the disagreement became a matter for their own lawyers.
But the committee secretary distributed the correction before anyone could quietly restore the old proposal to the agenda.
Ellen Moss learned about the correction from an internal city bulletin.
She brought her earlier procurement note to the appointed independent reviewer and explained how Meridian’s study had been commissioned.
The reviewer asked who had proposed the work.
“The request came through the city manager’s office,” Ellen answered.
“Do you know who drafted it?”
“No.”
“Did anyone tell you why pedestrian funds were being used?”
“I was told it was a preliminary access assessment.”
“Did you raise a question?”
Ellen looked directly at the reviewer.
“I asked for a clearer description, and I accepted an answer that wasn’t clear enough.”
The reviewer wrote down her statement.
“We may need you to answer more questions later.”
“I understand.”
She left without expecting praise.
For once, she felt that an incomplete answer had been treated as incomplete rather than polished into certainty.
