Chapter 5: What Daniel Found
Daniel was younger than I expected for someone who ran his own shop — maybe twenty-six, with careful eyes and a workbench that was organized with the kind of precision that made me trust him immediately.
He had the MacBook open on the bench when I came in.
The back casing was removed.
The inside had been gently dried and laid out under a small examination light.
"How bad?" I said.
"Honestly?
Better than it should be." He pointed to the logic board.
"Liquid damage is real, but it's not as deep as I expected.
The fabric softener actually left a residue that slowed the spread to some of the more critical components.
I can't promise everything, but I think there's a reasonable chance I can recover the drive."
I exhaled so hard my shoulders dropped.
"The portfolio," I said.
"My final year portfolio is on there.
Five years of work."
"I know.
You mentioned that yesterday." He leaned back on his stool.
"Here's the other thing I wanted to show you."
He turned the laptop slightly.
On the screen — a secondary monitor he had it connected to — was a folder structure I recognized.
My folder structure.
"You got in?"
"Partially.
The drive is reading.
Some files are corrupted, but most of the main folders are intact." He clicked into the architecture folder.
My project thumbnails appeared, row after row.
"I wanted you to see it before I told you."
I put my hand on the counter because I needed something solid.
"They're there," I said.
"Most of them.
I'll need another day to run the full recovery, but yes.
Most of them are there."
I stood there for a moment looking at five years of my life sitting in little rectangles on a borrowed monitor, damp around the edges and smelling faintly of Downy, and I did not cry — I had decided somewhere between midnight and one in the morning that I was done crying about the laptop — but it was a near thing.
"What do I owe you?" I said.
"Let's wait until the job is done." He paused.
"Can I ask what happened?
You don't have to answer."
"My grandmother washed it," I said.
"She thought it was dirty."
He looked at me.
Then he looked at the laptop.
Then back at me.
"She put Downy in the water," I said.
"So it would smell nice."
Daniel was quiet for exactly three seconds.
"That," he said carefully, "is the most loving act of destruction I have ever seen in this shop."
I laughed.
It came out louder than I intended, and it lasted longer than made sense, and when it was over I felt lighter than I had in twenty-four hours.
I drove home with the windows down.
The house was quiet when I got back.
Abuela Rosa was in the garden, deadheading her marigolds the way she did every Thursday.
She didn't hear me pull in.
I stood at the kitchen window and watched her for a moment — the deliberate movement of her hands, the way she talked quietly to the plants in Spanish, the floral apron she wore every single day as though it were a uniform, as though tending things were her profession and she took it seriously.
My phone buzzed.
Detective Garza.
*We're set for tomorrow.
Two officers will arrive at your address by 1:30.
Keep your grandmother inside and away from the front door.
If he calls to cancel or reschedule, contact me immediately.*
I typed back: *Understood.
She doesn't know the details.
I'd like to keep it that way until it's over.*
*That's your call.
We'll be there.*
I put the phone in my pocket and went outside.
"Abuela."
She looked up from the marigolds.
"The laptop," I said.
"They think they can save it."
She stood very still.
"Most of my files," I said.
"They're still there."
She pressed both hands over her mouth.
Her eyes went bright and immediate, the way they had when I graduated high school, when my mother came home from the hospital, when anything she had been praying for quietly and without telling anyone actually happened.
"Mija," she breathed.
"It's not finished yet," I said.
"But it looks good."
She reached out and held my face in both hands — rough palms, soil under her thumbnail, the faint smell of marigolds — and she looked at me the way she had looked at me my entire life, like I was something she had been trusted with and intended to take care of properly.
"Good," she said.
"Good."
She went back to her flowers.
May you like
I went back inside and checked the time.
Eighteen hours until two o'clock.
