"Can you describe her?"
"Mid-thirties, perhaps. Dark hair. She carried a clipboard and seemed to be in a hurry."
"Did she speak to you?"
"Not directly. But after the fight, she came to the timekeeping station and asked whether I had saved the timing logs."
Helen's pen stopped.
"What did you tell her?"
"That the system stored the logs automatically."
"And what did she say?"
"She told me that sometimes systems failed, and people needed to make sure the official record was accurate."
Helen exchanged a brief glance with her assistant.
"Did you understand that as a threat?"
"At the time, I thought she was warning me to be careful."
"Did you see her again?"
"Once. Two days later, outside the administrative office. She was speaking with Paul Danner."
"Did you hear the conversation?"
"Only a little. Danner told her the footage would be handled by the legal department."
"Can you remember anything else?"
"I remember the clock."
"Not the digital display. The small analog clock above the officials' entrance. It was synchronized with the master timing system. When the display was reset, the analog clock continued moving."
"Did you record its time?"
"No. But I remember looking at it because I thought the two clocks had stopped matching."
"Would that clock have been visible on the original camera footage?"
"If the camera angle included the officials' entrance, yes."
Helen asked the next question carefully.
"Are you certain the clock continued running?"
"Yes."
"Could you be mistaken about the sequence?"
"I could be mistaken about many things. But I spent fifteen years working with clocks. I know when one is running and when one has been reset."
The interview continued for another hour.
"How did it go?"
"I don't know."
"Did you tell them everything?"
"Everything I could remember."
"Thank you."
"I should have spoken sooner."
"Yes."
"But you spoke now."
Two days later, Helen called Daniel.
"We've located an additional witness," she said. "A former event administrator named Laura Chen."
Daniel sat upright at his kitchen table.
"What does she know?"
"She worked in the operations office during the tournament. She remembers a dispute about the timekeeping display and says a separate timing log was created after the event."
"Where is it?"
"We're still investigating."
"Does she remember who created it?"
"She believes the file was prepared by a technician named Samuel Price."
Daniel wrote the name in his notebook.
"Can you contact him?"
"We're trying."
After the call ended, Daniel stared at the notebook.
Someone else had questioned the official report.
Someone else had been involved in preserving the evidence.
Sarah arrived that evening and found him searching for Samuel Price.
"Any luck?"
"Not yet."
"Then eat first."
Daniel barely looked up.
"Dinner can wait."
"Your body disagrees."
He sighed and closed the laptop.
Sarah sat opposite him.
"You know what worries me?"
"That I don't eat enough?"
"Among other things."
"You're beginning to treat the investigation like another fight. You think if you keep moving, keep pushing, keep searching, you'll eventually reach a point where nothing can hurt you."
Daniel looked away.
"You can pursue the truth without sacrificing yourself to it."
"I don't know how to do that."
"Then learn."
"Hello?"
"Is this Daniel Mercer?"
"Yes."
"My name is Samuel Price. I heard you're asking about the invitational tournament."
"Yes. I'm trying to locate the original timing records."
"I might be able to help."
Daniel glanced at Sarah.
"Where are you?"
Samuel hesitated.
"Not over the phone."
"Then tell me where we can meet."
"Tomorrow. Noon. A public place. And please come alone."
Sarah's expression had changed.
"What did he say?"
"He has information about the timing records."
"Did he sound frightened?"
"Yes."
Sarah looked toward the window.
"Then tomorrow, you don't go alone."
"He specifically asked me to."
"And we don't know why."
He saved Samuel's number, copied it into a separate notebook, and sent Helen Brooks a message informing her that a potential witness had contacted him.
"You're right."
"Would you like me to repeat that? I can write it down."
"Don't push your luck."
He held on to that feeling as long as he could.
Tomorrow, he would meet the man who had helped maintain the tournament's timing system.
And perhaps, finally, they would learn what the clock had really recorded.
Samuel Price chose a small café beside the central railway station.
It was the sort of place where nobody stayed long enough to recognize the regular customers. Commuters came in for coffee, checked their phones, and left before the next train arrived. The tables were crowded together, the windows were covered with advertisements, and the constant noise made private conversations difficult to overhear.