Chapter 25: The Missing Battery

Inspector Voss contacted me about a claimed battery system listed in the Meridian project report.
It was described as a community reserve unit installed at the vacant house on the cul-de-sac.
The federal records listed a manufacturer, capacity, and acceptance test.
Voss did not confirm whether the battery existed.
He asked if I had observed unusual deliveries or workers near that house.
I described what Harold had told me and provided his contact information.
A few days later, authorized inspectors entered the vacant property with permission from its legal representative.
I did not watch the inspection.
Harold saw the vehicles and called me afterward.
He joked that his quiet street finally had more inspectors than lawn mowers.
I warned him not to draw conclusions from the presence of cars.
He said he knew.
The following week, Okafor told me that certain claimed equipment could not be verified at the reported locations.
That was all she could say.
I imagined crates stacked in a dark garage, each labeled with a promise that had already been submitted for payment.
Then I stopped myself.
I did not know what was in that garage.
What mattered was the difference between the statements made to taxpayers and the evidence investigators could actually establish.

Chapter 26: My Daughter’s Question

Ellie asked about the panels while we planted lettuce in the backyard.
She wanted to know why adults were fighting over something that made electricity.
I told her that the panels were not the real problem.
Some people had made claims about money and work that others were now checking.
She pushed a seed into the soil.
“Did you do anything wrong?” she asked.
I said no.
“Then why do you have to prove it?”
I considered several answers and rejected all the ones that sounded like lessons from a school assembly.
“Sometimes people make a mess and try to persuade everyone that the nearest person caused it,” I said.
“You still have to show what actually happened.”
Ellie looked toward the roof.
“That’s stupid,” she said.
“It is,” I agreed.
She asked whether the broken glass could hurt birds.
I said the cleanup team had collected the debris and checked the yard, though we would keep watching for anything missed.
She nodded and returned to the lettuce.
I realized she had accepted the explanation more readily than many adults in our neighborhood.
She was interested in responsibility, not spectacle.

Chapter 27: A Meeting Without Vivian

The HOA board called an emergency session to appoint a temporary records committee.
Vivian was notified but did not attend.
Nolan arrived and stood against the back wall with his hands in his pockets.
He accused the board of abandoning the people who had invested in neighborhood preparedness.
Thomas told him that the project could be reviewed without prejudging anyone’s intentions.
Martin presented the auditor’s preliminary list of missing approvals and unsupported invoices.
The board voted to suspend further payments to Meridian-related vendors pending legal review.
Nolan called the decision reckless.
A resident asked him whether his company would return the money it had received for work that could not be documented.
He said every job had been performed properly.
The resident requested the permits and completion certificates.
Nolan promised to provide them later.
After the meeting, I found him waiting near my car.
He kept a respectful distance, probably because Calder had warned him to avoid contact.
“You think you’re going to destroy me,” he said.
I told him to communicate through our attorneys.
He laughed bitterly.
“Vivian said you’d fold after the first notice.”
I did not reply.
He looked toward the dark clubhouse windows.
“She was wrong about that,” he said.
Then he walked away.