Part 16:
“It will be Thursday,” she said. “This Thursday?” “Yes.” “That’s 3 days.” “Yes.” “Okay. Delia will brief you tomorrow and Wednesday. On Thursday morning, you will meet Sharp at his office in Burlington. He thinks you are coming to ask about appealing your termination. He has agreed to see you because he thinks he is being generous.
You will know what to do when you get there.” “Okay.” “Ryan.” “Yeah.” “Don’t tell your daughter where you are going on Thursday.” “I wouldn’t.” “I know, but” “Yeah.” “Be careful.” “I will be.” She held out her hand. He took it. She did not shake it. She just held it for a second, very briefly, and then she let go and took Thursday morning was cold and very clear.
The kind of cold that made the inside of your nose sting when you breathed. The kind of clear that made every distant thing look a little closer than it was. Ryan drove himself. That had been his request, and Delia had grudgingly agreed. He drove his own truck, the 2003 Ford Ranger with the driver’s side door that didn’t latch right, up the highway toward Burlington.
Marcus and two of his people were in a car somewhere behind him. Theo was in another car somewhere ahead of him. A technician named Owen, a very thin young man with red hair, who had fitted him with the wire that morning, was in a van two blocks from Sharp’s office, listening on headphones. The wire was taped to his chest under his shirt.
He had not expected it to itch. It itched. He parked in the visitor lot at the Regis Hollister corporate flicked up as Ryan walked past. Inside the building it smelled like a dentist’s office. Bright clean air with a faint chemical sweetness under it. There was a woman at the front desk. She was young and she was on the phone.
She looked up at Ryan. Ryan Hale for Everett Sharp. She nodded, held up a finger, said into the phone, “I’m going to have to call you back.” Hung up and pressed a button on her console. “Mr. Sharp, your 10:00 is here.” A voice came back through the little speaker, muffled but cheerful. “Send him up.” The woman smiled at Ryan.
It was not a real smile. “Third floor. He’ll meet you at the elevator.” “Thanks.” In the elevator Ryan watched the floor numbers tick up. He told himself to breathe. He told himself to let his hands sweat if they wanted to sweat. He told himself as Delia had told him seven times in the last 3 days that the goal of this conversation was to say very little, to let Sharp talk, and to ask for money.
The elevator opened on three. Everett Sharp was waiting for him. He was 54, not tall, with the kind of body that had been in decent shape in his 20s and had spent the 30 years since negotiating with gravity. He had a navy blazer over a white shirt and no tie. He had the smile of a man who was good at smiling without meaning it.
He stuck out a hand. Ryan. Good to see you. Come on back to my office. Thanks for seeing me. Of course. Of course. We have to take care of each other, right? Ryan shook his hand. The hand was soft. It did not belong to anyone who had ever lifted a crate. They walked down a hallway with framed photographs on the walls.
Trucks, distribution centers, a group photograph of the board. Sharp was in the group photograph. So was a woman Ryan did not recognize and a man he did. A man who had once visited the warehouse in Rutland and who Ryan had been introduced to as Mr. Arden, the founder. Celeste’s father. He was dead now from what she had said.
He did not look like his daughter. His eyes were different, harder. Sharp’s office was a corner one with two walls of windows. The windows looked out over the parking lot and beyond it to the distant ridge of the Green Mountains. There was a large desk. There were two chairs in front of it. Sharp gestured Ryan to one of them and sat down in his own chair behind the desk.
So, Ryan, how are you holding up? Honestly, Mr. Sharp. Everett. Everett. I’ve had a rough month. I bet you have. I bet you have. You got a tough break there. Tough break. Yes, sir. I want you to know, Ryan, that from my side of the building, I was not comfortable with how that was handled. Okay. Not comfortable at all.
You’re a good worker. Martin Delaney’s been with us a long time and he’s never said a bad word about you. You understand? I appreciate that. But you have to understand, the investigation is not in my lane. The insurance people, the corporate compliance people, they drive that process. I can’t override them, even if I wanted to. My hands are somewhat tied.
I understand. So, you wanted to talk about an appeal, I think my assistant said. Sort of. Sort of. Ryan took a breath. He made himself look down at his hands. He let them shake a little. He didn’t have to fake it. They were shaking on their own. Mr. Sharp. Everett, please. Everett, I’ve been going over everything in my head for 3 weeks, every night, and I’ve been looking at things.
Old paperwork, schedules, I uh I have a good memory for numbers. Okay. I know some things. Sharp’s face didn’t change, but something in his eyes did. Ryan saw it. It was like watching a door close very quietly, far away. What kind of things? I know when the variances started, I know which Tuesdays they happened, I know which loads were light by how much.
