The warning board was still flashing when Sienna reached the quarantined motorcycle.
Nothing on the bike had failed.
That was almost worse.
The engine had been started, run just long enough to force the diagnostic system through a new cycle, and shut down again. The machine sat exactly where she had left it, but part of the record she had been building was gone.
Sienna stared at the blank section on the monitor.
Kester came up beside her. “Accident?”
“No.”
The answer left no room for comfort.
She pulled up the access history instead of touching the motorcycle. Whoever had done this had not needed to damage a part or cross a seal. They had known which action would erase information while leaving the bike apparently untouched.
That meant knowledge.
And access.
Kester looked toward
