Cracks in the Story

Mercer holds your stare for a long second, then lowers her voice. Your brother found unauthorized activity near the tower foundation. She starts to say more, but headlights sweep across the window behind her. A dark truck without plates rolls past the substation instead of the public road and disappears toward the back service lane. Mercer goes still. Not surprised. Not confused. Just measuring how much you noticed. On the desk beside her is a dispatch log with one line crossed out so hard it nearly tears the paper. If she is part of this, she is a careful liar. If she is not, then someone close enough to her office is watching the same roads you are.