I pulled into a truck stop and parked before calling Julian back.
I didn't want to have this conversation while driving.
"What exactly changed?" I asked.
"The shipment's priority status."
"Who changed it?"
"That's what we're trying to determine."
"Was it Victor?"
"His account was used."
I stared through the windshield.
"Then why are you saying you're not sure?"
"Because his credentials may have been used by someone else."
That was possible.
But it didn't make me feel better.
"What did the original record say?"
"Standard priority."
"And afterward?"
"Critical."
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
"That makes no sense."
"It does if someone wanted your delay to look serious."
I leaned back.
"Why would anyone care that much?"
Julian didn't answer immediately.
"That's the question."
I looked at the other trucks parked around me.
Drivers came and went.
Nobody knew what had happened.
Nobody knew how close I had come to losing my job because I stopped for a family in the rain.
"Julian."
"Yes?"
"Could this be about money?"
"It could."
"How?"
"Late deliveries can trigger penalties in some contracts."
"But there wasn't a penalty."
"Not on your shipment."
I frowned.
"Then why change the priority?"
"We don't know yet."
I rubbed my eyes.
"You're starting to sound like Rachel."
"That's because Rachel is asking the right questions."
I smiled.
"Fair enough."
Julian became quieter.
"Marcus, I want you to do something."
"What?"
"Keep your original paperwork."
"I have it."
"Every message."
"I have those too."
"Don't delete anything."
"I won't."
"Good."
We ended the call.
I sat in the cab for several minutes.
Then I opened the glove compartment.
My delivery documents were still there.
I pulled them out.
The original manifest.
The route instructions.
The delivery confirmation.
The disciplinary form.
My written statement.
I spread everything across the passenger seat.
At first, nothing seemed unusual.
Then I noticed the manifest.
There was a handwritten mark beside the shipment number.
A small black star.
I had never noticed it.
I turned the page over.
Nothing.
I checked the delivery confirmation.
No star.
I took a picture of the mark and sent it to Julian.
His response came quickly.
Don't send that anywhere else yet.
I stared at the message.
Why?
Because I'm checking something.
Twenty minutes later, he called.
"Where did you get that?"
"It's on my original manifest."
"Was it there when you picked up the trailer?"
"I don't remember."
"Don't touch it."
"What is it?"
"I'm not sure."
"Julian."
"I've seen that marking before."
I sat upright.
"Where?"
"On internal Hayes Tech shipping documents."
"What does it mean?"
"I don't know."
"Then why does it matter?"
"Because it's not a normal carrier notation."
I looked at the paper again.
The star was tiny.
Almost invisible.
"Could it have been put there by Apex?"
"Possibly."
"Could it have been Hayes?"
"Possibly."
"Then we're back where we started."
"No."
His voice sharpened.
"We're not."
"What changed?"
"I found another shipment."
My stomach tightened.
"What shipment?"
"One delivered by Apex three weeks before yours."
"Same marking?"
"Yes."
"Was there a problem?"
"The driver was disciplined for being late."
I sat in silence.
"Julian."
"Yes?"
"How many?"
"Three so far."
I stared at the manifest.
"Three drivers?"
"Three shipments."
"All late?"
"All marked critical after departure."
"And all drivers were disciplined?"
"Yes."
I felt a cold pressure behind my ribs.
"Are they looking at the drivers' records?"
"Corporate is."
I looked at the clock.
I had another delivery in forty minutes.
For the first time, I wasn't thinking about my route.
I was thinking about the other drivers.
I called Rachel.
She answered on the second ring.
"Marcus."
"I found something."
She listened while I explained the marking.
There was a long silence.
"Send me a photograph."
I did.
She called back within minutes.
"Where did you get this?"
"My original manifest."
"Keep it."
"Julian said the same thing."
"He's right."
"What is it?"
"We're not sure."
"But you've seen it before."
"Yes."
"Where?"
"On several files."
My heart sank.
"How many?"
"At least twelve."
I closed my eyes.
Rachel continued.
"We're comparing them now."
"Is there a connection?"
"We think so."
"What kind?"
"We don't know."
She paused.
"Marcus, I need you to understand something. Until we know what this marking means, don't confront anyone."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Good."
She ended the call.
I returned to work.
For the rest of the day, I tried to concentrate.
But every shipment number looked different.
Every handwritten note caught my attention.
Every route change made me wonder whether there was something behind it.
At five that evening, Angela called me.
"Marcus?"
"Yes."
"Can you come back to the office?"
"Why?"
"Rachel asked for you."
I drove back.
When I entered the conference room, Rachel was there with Rebecca and two other people from compliance.
Julian was sitting at the table.
There were twelve manifests spread in front of him.
Each had the same black star.
I sat down.
Rachel pushed one toward me.
"This shipment was transported by Darren Mills."
I recognized the name from the box Victor had been shown.
"He was disciplined."
"Yes."
She pushed another.
"Sandra Cole."
Another.
"Elliot Briggs."
I looked at the pages.
Every driver had received a disciplinary action after a delayed shipment.
Every shipment had been marked critical after departure.
Every delay had occurred during circumstances that made the driver's decision defensible.
Weather.
Mechanical failure.
Road closures.
Emergency detours.
I looked at Rachel.
"Who benefits?"
She didn't answer.
Julian did.
"Someone who wants the carrier to report poor performance."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"To renegotiate rates."
I stared at him.
"Against Apex?"
"Maybe."
Rebecca added, "Or to force certain contracts away from Apex."
The room went quiet.
"Who would want that?"
"Competitors."
"Another carrier?"
"Possibly."
Rachel pointed at one document.
"But there's another pattern."
"What?"
"The disciplinary actions were disproportionately concentrated among experienced drivers."
"Why would that matter?"
"Experienced drivers are harder to control."
I thought about that.
It made sense.
Drivers who knew the rules were more likely to object.
Drivers who had been on the road for years knew when conditions were genuinely dangerous.
I looked at Julian.
"Could someone be deliberately creating bad records?"
"That's what we're testing."
"And Victor?"
"We don't know his role."
I remembered his face when the laptop was taken.
He had looked scared.
Not surprised.
Scared.
"Rachel."
"Yes?"
"I think Victor knew something."
She studied me.
"Why?"
"Because when you mentioned the altered files, he wasn't surprised by the idea."
"That's subjective."
"I know."
"But I worked with him for years."
Rachel nodded.
"That matters."
She closed the folder.
"We're interviewing him tomorrow."
I looked at the documents.
"What can I do?"
"Keep doing what you're doing."
"Drive?"
"Drive."
I almost smiled.
It felt absurd.
A company investigation was unfolding around me, and my assigned task was still delivering freight.
But perhaps that was exactly what I needed.
Something ordinary.
Something I could control.
The following morning, I received another call.
This time it was from Victor.
I almost didn't answer.
I did.
"What do you want?"
His voice was quieter than usual.
"I need to talk to you."
"About what?"
"About the storm."
I said nothing.
"I made a mistake."
I waited.
He continued.
"I shouldn't have told you to keep going."
"That's one mistake."
"Marcus."
"Did you alter my disciplinary record?"
Silence.
I felt my heartbeat in my ears.
"Victor?"
"I didn't do what you think."
"Then what did you do?"
Another pause.
"I signed something."
"What?"
"A report."
"What report?"
"I can't discuss it."
"Why?"
"Because if I tell you, they’ll come after me."
I stared through the windshield.
"Who?"
He didn't answer.
"Victor."
The line went dead.
I sat there with the phone in my hand.
Then it rang again.
Not Victor.
Rachel.
"Marcus, where are you?"
"On the road."
"Pull over."
I did.
"What's wrong?"
"Victor just contacted me."
"About?"
"He said he signed a report."
"What report?"
"He wouldn't say."
Rachel was silent.
Then she said, "Don't contact him again."
"I won't."
"Marcus, listen carefully."
Her voice was serious.
"We just found a payment."
My stomach tightened.
"From who?"
"An outside company."
"To Victor?"
"No."
"Then who?"
"That's the problem."
She paused.
"The payment was made to an account connected to a transportation consultant."
I waited.
"That consultant has been working with one of Apex's competitors."
I looked out at the highway.
The rain had started again.
Not hard.
Just enough to darken the windshield.
Rachel continued.
"And the payment was made two days before your storm."
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: The Payment Predated the Storm by Two Days, Meaning My Stop Was Never the Beginning of the Problem
The Storm Was Already Closing Around Me When a Little Girl’s Flashlight Appeared Beside the Highway
Part 6 of 12
