The CEO released the button.
Her pulse had jumped.
“What was that?”
The Single Dad walked toward the open door.
“Tell Munich to check starter amp draw.”
She relayed it.
Keyboard noises followed.
Then silence.
The engineer’s voice became smaller.
“Four hundred amp spike.”
The Single Dad nodded.
“Starter is trying.”
“Engine isn’t turning.”
The engineer said:
“Possible seized rotating assembly.”
“No.”
The Single Dad wiped sweat from his forehead.
“Liquid lock.”
The Female CEO stepped out.
“Water?”
“Fuel.”
The engineer immediately said:
“That’s impossible.”
The Single Dad ignored him.
“Your rail sensor probably isn’t lying.”
“Pressure relief valve is stuck open.”
“The fuel dumped where it shouldn’t.”
“Engine swallowed liquid.”
He looked at the CEO.
“Liquid doesn’t compress.”
The Female CEO felt something cold move through her despite the heat.
The Single Dad continued.
“If they force that pump and you hit the starter hard, you bend rods.”
“Maybe worse.”
The CEO looked at her phone.
“Is he right?”
The engineer hesitated.
That hesitation mattered more than an answer.
The Female CEO ended the call.
She looked at the Single Dad.
“Can you fix it?”
He checked his watch.
Then rubbed his jaw.
“My daughter finishes band practice in less than two hours.”
The CEO blinked.
“What does that have to do with the car?”
“Everything.”
“I have to pick her up.”
The Female CEO stared at him.
A man standing beside a $3 million machine had just told her a ten-year-old’s band practice mattered more.
Oddly, she respected him more immediately.
“I’m asking whether you can fix it.”
The Single Dad looked at the engine.
“Maybe enough to get you home.”
That word again.
Maybe.
Honest.
Unimpressive.
Useful.
He walked back to the tow truck.
Returned with a long screwdriver and a heavy socket wrench.
The Female CEO stared.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“No what?”
“You are not hitting my car.”
“I’m hitting a screwdriver.”
“With that.”
“Yes.”
“Near my engine.”
“Yes.”
She stared at him.
He smiled slightly.
“Trust issues?”
“You arrived in a truck with three different paint colors.”
“Fair.”
He pointed toward the engine.
“Valve solenoid is likely stuck.”
“Heat makes things swell.”
“Sometimes a little mechanical shock frees the plunger.”
“That sounds primitive.”
“It is.”
“My car is not primitive.”
“It currently doesn’t move.”
She hated him.
Not quite.
The Single Dad positioned the screwdriver carefully against the valve housing.
“You cycle the electronics.”
“I tap.”
“Three times.”
The CEO got into the car.
He called: