Part 5
Gusset sat beside the chair, waiting for Nolan to return the strap.
Nolan lowered the page to the table. Then he read the rest.
Mateo had listed dates, locations, and the people he’d approached about the north scaffolding. Pins and locking parts were worn. Requests for examination had gone unanswered or been delayed. Replacement work had been discussed and postponed.
Several words had been crossed out and replaced with simpler ones. Nolan could follow every concern. At the bottom, Mateo had signed and dated the complaint shortly before his last shift.
There were photocopied training certificates, too. Some numbers looked repeated, though Nolan didn’t know whether that was significant. The memory card remained in its protective pouch.
He photographed the helmet, the loosened lining, and the materials where he had laid them. He noted the time and how the packet had come out, then placed the papers in clean sleeves. He wasn’t going to start copying files onto his own computer or sending half-understood records around the site.
Teresa answered quickly.
“Is the dog all right?”
“He’s considering whether my chair tastes good. Otherwise, yes.”
Her brief laugh faded when he told her what he’d found.
“I knew he was writing it,” she said. “He planned to take it to a worker assistance office after his shift.”
“Why keep it in the hat?”
“He thought someone had been through his locker. Things had moved.”
Nolan looked at the old shell. “Wasn’t he wearing it?”
“That was his old one. He kept it near the rest area and used an issued spare for the active work.”
Frank had put it aside afterward. Gusset had stayed with it. Nolan touched the edge of the protective sleeve, then moved his hand away.
Teresa asked, “Will somebody listen now?”
“We need someone who can tell us what this means.”
She knew where to go.
The next morning, Nolan carried the packet upstairs to the office of Avenza, a nonprofit that helped workers and their families. Teresa walked beside him. The office had agreed he could bring Gusset, who was soon occupied with a folded blanket beneath a chair.
Joanna Beck met them in a small room overlooking a bus stop. She was forty-eight, an attorney with short dark curls, rectangular glasses, and a pen she uncapped only after both visitors had settled.
Nolan described finding the puppy, borrowing the helmet, and removing the packet. Joanna asked him to slow down at several points so she could record exactly who had handled what.
“Keep your notes,” she said. “We’ll preserve the originals and arrange controlled copies. The card needs to be examined on appropriate equipment.”
Teresa leaned forward. “Does this prove he was hurt there?”
“It gives us important information. It doesn’t establish the whole event.”
She turned the complaint toward them without removing it from its sleeve.
“We need the work records and people with firsthand knowledge. We need to confirm when the photographs were taken, what they show, and who had responsibility for those parts of the project.”
Nolan nodded.
“Don’t make guesses to help us,” Joanna added. “Tell us where your knowledge ends.”
With Teresa’s authorization, the materials were documented and the card reviewed. Its images showed scaffolding connections, worn locking assemblies, and inspection sheets. The training copies raised questions of their own: different workers’ names appeared above identical verification numbers.
Joanna made a list of records to request. She didn’t call the certificates false.
“Mateo was thorough,” she said.
Teresa smiled at the complaint. “Our mother once asked him to fix a kitchen drawer. He spent most of the afternoon getting it to close straight. She finally told him dinner was waiting whether the drawer was finished or not.”
Gusset shifted under the chair and laid a paw on Nolan’s boot.
“He just wanted everybody to make it home,” Teresa said.
Joanna put down her pen. “Then we’ll take the care with this that he took.”
Frank came the following day, carrying his old lunchbox although he wasn’t going to work. Nolan greeted him, then left Joanna to ask the questions.
Frank described the crash, the supervisors directing people away, and the repairs he saw the next morning. He separated each thing he’d witnessed from what he’d heard afterward. Joanna asked who had called it a routine correction and when the conversation had occurred.
“We were told not to start rumors about Mateo,” Frank added.
“Who said that?”
He answered and watched her write it down.
At the end, he stared at his folded hands. “Should’ve done this before.”
“You can review your statement for accuracy,” Joanna said, sliding her notes closer. Frank put on his glasses and began reading.
Owen arrived after work the next evening. He checked his phone twice before sitting down. From a document envelope, he removed a certificate bearing his name.
Owen cleared his throat. “I signed so they’d give me an assignment.”
Joanna indicated the courses on the certificate.
“Some of those, I took,” he said. “Not all.”
Joanna explained the reporting process, the limits of confidentiality, and the protections available against retaliation. She made no promise that he would never face pressure.
Owen looked at Nolan. “I’m not looking for a fight.”
“Mateo wasn’t either.”
The younger man held the certificate a moment longer, then placed it on the table.
“You can copy it.”
By the start of the next week, Joanna had contacted Simone Avery, a federal workplace safety specialist who could coordinate the appropriate referrals. Simone was forty-five, tall and spare, with dark hair cut close at the nape and a habit of checking the source of each statement before writing it down.
She explained what would happen next. The scaffolding concerns, the training records, and possible retaliation would need careful review through the proper channels. Different questions might involve different authorities.
“An observation is useful,” she told them. “A conclusion without support can get in its way.”
Nolan found that easier to trust than a promise.
Late that afternoon, while Teresa reviewed notes with a volunteer, Gusset woke from his blanket. He found Nolan’s old glove beside the bag and carried it to Joanna.
She looked down at the offering.
“Do I need to sign for this?”
The volunteer laughed. Teresa covered her mouth, smiling for the first time that day.
“He expects benefits,” Nolan said.
“Meals and flexible hours?”
“Already negotiated.”
Joanna returned the glove. Gusset took it proudly back beneath the chair.
That evening, Nolan finished his assigned welding and found Curtis outside the office trailer. He asked who had approved the replacement connections and whether the work had happened before or after Mateo’s last shift.
Curtis put his pen down.
“You’re still at this.”
“There’s a signed complaint about that section.”
The foreman’s eyes moved toward the window behind him.
“You got hold of it?”
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