I didn’t sit. I stood, leaning my knuckles against the cold wood of the table. “At 10:15 a.m., Truck 42 will leave the Kent industrial corridor. It is carrying pediatric antibiotics that were exposed to temperatures above safety thresholds for nearly six hours last night. The logs were falsified by the shift supervisor to read as a ‘nine-minute minor fluctuation.’ If that truck departs, Pierce Meridian Group will be criminally liable for distributing compromised medication to children.”
The Head of Compliance, a sharp-eyed woman, immediately started typing on her laptop.
Owen Rusk laughed. It was a harsh, dismissive sound. “This is a joke. Northstar passed our $400 million acquisition review with flying colors. We rely on verified data, not the vindictive fantasies of a fired line worker holding a grudge.”
“Owen,” Grayson warned, his voice a low growl.
“No, let him speak,” I said. I pulled my trump card out of the folder—a printed screenshot of an internal dispatch code from 3:00 a.m. this morning. “I have the route code. I have the supervisor’s ID login. Call the dock. Tell them to physically test the ambient temperature of the vials. Don’t look at the computer. Touch the glass.”
Owen slammed his hand on the table. “I am not halting a multimillion-dollar distribution route because of her! Grayson, if you entertain this, you undermine my entire division. I vetted Northstar! I—”
Owen’s personal cell phone began to vibrate violently on the table.
He ignored it. “I am telling you, her claims are fabricated to extort us—”
The phone kept buzzing. Incoming Call: SARAH (Wife).
“Answer the damn phone, Owen,” Grayson snapped. “Your lack of focus is giving me a migraine.”
Owen shot Grayson a venomous look, snatched the phone, and swiped to answer. “Sarah, I am in a crisis meeting. This better be—”
He stopped. The blood drained from his face so fast I thought he might pass out.
“What?” Owen whispered, his voice cracking. “Where? The drainage ditch on East Mercer? Is he breathing? Is Tyler okay?”
My heart stuttered. Tyler. The entire room went dead silent. We could hear the frantic, sobbing voice of his wife through the earpiece. “He almost drowned, Owen! His backpack was stuck! A woman jumped in and pulled him out just before the water went over his head! I just sent you the picture the paramedics took of her. Oh my god, Owen, he almost died.”
Owen’s trembling hand pulled the phone away from his ear. He tapped his screen to open the message.