The laundry return had stayed quiet for six hours when its dent grew a black point.
Waddell watched the point push through old steel above the cart. It entered without tearing the paint. Three square impressions marked the exposed head around an empty center.
The same mark sat on the heating plate Rosa had recovered outside.
Tyree's right forearm remained strapped to the cot rail beneath a damp burn blanket. His free heel struck the lower bar once.
Waddell looked at him.
"That movement belonged to the pipe before it belonged to me."
"Keep both feet flat while I decide how much building we can lose."
Tyree planted his heels on the tile. Fire tightened under the nails of his restrained hand without reaching the blanket.
The black point moved another inch.
