Chapter 3 - The Folder I Wouldn't Leave Behind
Richard's security director called at 12:07.
Her name was Dana Holt, and unlike Richard, she understood that asking questions worked better when you did not start by shouting.
"Emily, will you tell me what's in the red folder?"
I looked down at it.
For six months, I had been printing one page every time the system showed a delivery status that did not match a driver's actual check-in.
Nothing dramatic.
One shipment listed as delivered forty minutes before it reached the gate.
Another listed damaged even though the driver said the boxes had never been opened.
A third temporarily assigned to a location I could not find on our normal facility list.
Every time I raised it, Trevor said the same thing.
"System lag."
"Customer correction."
"Stop wasting time on noise."
So I stopped arguing.
And started keeping copies.
Twenty-three exception sheets.
Dana said, "Why didn't you give those to Richard?"
"I tried to give him the folder this morning."
"What happened?"
"He fired me before opening it."
Silence.
That felt good for about half a second.
Then Dana said, "I need copies."
"You'll get them through Northstar's incident team."
"You don't trust Harrison?"
"Someone at Harrison used my identity forty-one minutes ago."
"Fair."
Erica arranged for me to meet her at Northstar's regional office.
By the time I arrived, Mateo Ruiz had been found.
Alive.
Safe.
His truck was parked at a highway rest area.
He had pulled over when the reroute call felt wrong and turned off his company tablet after it began cycling through repeated instructions.
I nearly cried from relief.
"What about the trailers?" I asked.
Erica pointed to a screen.
Eleven were secure.
One was not.
A trailer driven by a subcontractor had separated from the group before Northstar froze the changes.
Its status showed DELIVERED.
But no Northstar facility had received it.
"Value?"
"Three point six million."
My stomach tightened.
Then Dana Holt joined the meeting by video.
"We reviewed your workstation."
"And?"
"Someone logged in at 10:39."
"From my computer?"
"Yes."
"Camera?"
Dana hesitated.
"Trevor Dane was at your desk."
Erica looked at me.
I felt no triumph.
Only a question.
"Then why is Richard still blaming me?"
Dana answered carefully.
"Because Trevor says Richard told him to preserve operations using your access until IT disabled the account."
I stared.
"Richard gave him permission to use my login?"
"That's what Trevor says. Richard denies telling him that."
A security still appeared on the screen.
Trevor at my desk.
My red office mug beside him.
My keyboard under his hands.
Then Dana changed the image.
A keycard log.
10:38 A.M. - EXECUTIVE OFFICE.
10:39 A.M. - EMILY CARTER WORKSTATION AREA.
The badge identifier was mine.
I opened my purse.
My physical badge was still there.
Dana said, "We think a duplicate credential was created."
"By who?"
"That's what we're trying to determine."
I looked at my paper exception sheets.
Twenty-three anomalies.
One name appeared on almost every internal note.
T. DANE.
Then I saw something I had never noticed before.
On six of the twenty-three pages, Trevor's note had been added after a small code:
SALVAGE RESERVE.
I pointed at it.
"What is Salvage Reserve?"
Dana went silent.
Erica leaned toward the camera.
"Dana?"
Finally Dana said, "It's an off-system warehouse program."
I felt cold.
"Off-system?"
"Damaged and abandoned freight."
"Why have I never heard of it?"
Dana looked directly at me.
"Because Richard told us not to discuss it outside executive operations."
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