Chapter 12: What He Signed

At six the next morning, Nolan signed his life away on the hood of a delivery truck.

I stood on the Toledo dock with Bridget in a dawn so cold the exhaust hung in the air.

Forty drivers stood in a half circle, in their work coats, with their paper cups.

They had been told to come.

Nobody had told them why.

In Nolan's hands was a thick packet.

Beside him stood a notary in a quilted vest, yawning.

Next to her stood the president of the drivers' employee trust, a gray man with a mustache and no patience.

"This is the assignment," Nolan said.

He did not use the megaphone.

He did not need it.

"Every share of Dray Cold Chain I own, I'm signing over to the employee trust.

The twelve percent I bought with Colm's money, and the eight percent I earned running this place."

A murmur went through the crowd.

"Colm Redfern will go after what I owe him," Nolan said.

"He can have my condo, my truck, and the cash I have.

He can't have this.

It was never mine."

"Why?" a driver called.

"Because I took it," Nolan said.

"I took it from you.

I took it from her."

He looked across the dock at me, and then back at the crowd.

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