Chapter 2 - The Driver Who Refused
"Ruben, do not go anywhere you were not originally scheduled to go."
I caught myself.
I no longer worked for Harrison.
I had no authority to dispatch him.
So I corrected the sentence.
"Call your current supervisor and Northstar security. Tell them you are questioning the instruction. Do not rely on me."
"Already called Harrison."
"What did they say?"
"Trevor told me the reroute is valid."
My stomach dropped.
Trevor Dane.
The man who had spent twenty minutes convincing Richard that I was the problem.
Erica was still on the other line.
I merged the calls.
She told Ruben Northstar did not recognize the new destination.
Within minutes, she froze acceptance of every route change tied to the twelve loads.
Nine drivers confirmed they had received new instructions.
Two had not answered yet.
The twelfth was Ruben.
Richard called me.
I let it ring once.
Twice.
Then answered.
"What did you do?"
No hello.
Of course.
"I got fired."
"Northstar just froze twenty-eight million dollars in freight because they say your account was compromised."
"It was used after you fired me."
"You could have scheduled the changes before you left."
I laughed.
"Check the timestamps."
"Trevor says—"
"Stop saying Trevor's name like it makes facts disappear."
Richard went silent.
Then he said, "Get back here."
"Am I fired?"
Another silence.
"Emily."
"That's not an answer."
"Fine. Come back as a consultant until we fix this."
"No."
He sounded genuinely shocked.
"No?"
"Northstar is handling its freight. Your security team can preserve your systems. I'm not walking back into the building you just threw me out of so you can blame me twice."
I hung up.
My hands were shaking.
Not because I felt brave.
Because rent was due in eleven days.
Because I had student loans.
Because courage is much less glamorous when your checking account has $1,842 in it.
Erica called again.
"We found ten drivers."
"And the other two?"
"One just checked in. The last driver is Mateo Ruiz. No answer."
I knew Mateo.
Forty-eight.
Three daughters.
Always carried peppermint candies in the cab.
"Where was his last confirmed stop?"
"I'm sending that to law enforcement and our carrier-security team."
Good.
Nobody needed me playing detective with a human being's safety.
Then a photo arrived from Ruben.
A paper dispatch sheet.
Harrison logo.
New destination.
At the bottom:
APPROVED - EMILY CARTER.
The signature looked like mine.
Not close.
Mine.
I zoomed in.
Three years of signing receiving exceptions had given half the office access to examples of my handwriting.
Then I noticed the time printed beneath the signature.
10:41 A.M.
I had been standing in the elevator at 10:41.
Ruben sent another message.
Trevor handed these out himself before you got fired.
I stared at the screen.
The reroute had been prepared before Richard pointed at the door.
The only thing they had been waiting for was my absence.
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