Carver lowered his clipboard. “Explain.”

Jax flinched. “What was that?”

She built the cradle. Steel slings, polyester roundslings rated for 5,000, and a spreader bar that had seen the Korean War. Her hands moved by memory. Every shackle pin torqued. Every soft sling padded against the cell’s casing. The overhead crane groaned when she took up the slack.

So she moved it.

“You gonna lift that thing or write a poem about it?” he asked.