The broken keeper groove moved during Fenn's lunch and pushed her bread off the evidence table.
Fenn caught the bread against her shirt. The groove kept going inside its clear paper wrap, scraping three inches across the chalk grid Palla had drawn around it.
"That thing already ate our tram, so my lunch stays mine."
"Move the bread and leave the paper where it stopped."
Palla put one finger on the wrapping. The brass beneath it tugged toward the casualty board bolted beside the west tram stairs.
The fourth desk sat beyond the table with its plates flat and its hand socket packed in wax. No lamp showed behind the glass. The carriage had stayed dead through six shift changes and two children daring each other to knock on it.
Fenn moved her lunch to a crate.
"The desk is innocent this time, which feels personally insulting."
