Chapter 13 - Monday Never Came
Monday never came for Trevor's plan.
By Friday night, the reserve was more visible than it had ever been.
Customers had records.
Drivers had statements.
Dana had access logs.
Jasmine had chats.
Ruben had audio.
Monica had executive packets.
And I had the red folder Trevor thought would leave the building in a trash box after my termination.
The company sale moved quickly.
Not because everyone suddenly became noble.
Because Harrison needed cash and customers needed continuity.
A regional carrier called Lakefront Transit offered to buy the operating assets, retain most drivers and dispatchers, and exclude Westfield and Salvage Reserve liabilities from the transaction.
Richard would lose control.
The Harrison name would disappear within a year.
He fought that last part hardest.
I understood why.
His father had painted that name on the first truck.
Still.
A name was not payroll.
A name was not a driver's mortgage.
The sale was approved.
Jasmine was retained.
Dana was retained.
Kevin was retained.
Eighteen administrative jobs were eliminated.
That part mattered too.
Reform stories sound cleaner when nobody mentions the people who still lose work.
Northstar agreed to keep some freight with the new company after controls changed.
I helped Erica hand off the investigation materials and finished my consulting term.
Then she offered me a job.
Senior network operations manager.
Salary higher than Richard's old offer to make me director.
I stared at the letter.
"You think I'm special?"
Erica laughed.
"No."
I liked her more.
"I think you are good at your job. I also think your old company made you perform three jobs badly documented under one title. Here you'll do one."
That sounded almost luxurious.
I accepted.
On my last day consulting at Harrison, Richard came to collect personal files.
The office felt wrong without his voice filling it.
He stopped at my old desk.
My red mug was still there.
"You want this?"
I shook my head.
"No."
"I thought you liked it."
"I did."
He looked at the desk.
"I used to tell the board you were proof our culture rewarded hard work."
I laughed.
"You paid me sixty-two thousand dollars to answer calls at midnight."
He winced.
"Right."
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Trevor Dane's attorney.
Richard answered.
I started walking away.
Then he said, "Emily."
I turned.
His face had changed.
"Trevor is pleading guilty."
I waited.
"He says part of the agreement requires him to identify everyone who knowingly benefited."
Richard looked toward the office that used to be his.
"Including me."
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