Not My Package, Not My Crime

The moment the words left my mouth, a cheery voice resonated from behind me.

"Nicole, help me sign!"

Rachel ran over from the direction of the meeting room, her high heels clicking.

She was wearing a light pink knit sweater today. She had slightly wavy long hair, her eyes curving sweetly when she smiled.

Rachel had been in the same group with me for two years and was the person I was closest with in the entire department.

At least, that was what I had always believed before today.

She ran up to my side and reached out to tap the package.

"It's mine.

"Didn't I tell you yesterday? I had a large package arriving today and asked you to help sign for it."

I looked at her.

"When did you tell me that?"

Rachel froze for a second, then immediately laughed.

"Just during lunch break, silly.

"Did you drive yourself crazy rushing that project recently?"

She smoothly stuffed the pen back into my hand.

"Just sign it, now. Don't keep the guy waiting."

Any day in the past, I probably would have signed it.

Ever since Rachel joined the company, she loved having her delivery packages sent to the office.

At first, it was clothes and cosmetics of not much worth.

Then the deliveries became shoes, bags, and phones.

She always claimed that the property management at her rented apartment was unreliable and asked me to help receive them.

I didn't think much of it, treating it as simply lending a hand to a colleague.

Gradually, my help got taken for granted.

With those comments warning me, I finally realized how strange the whole arrangement was.

Rachel was clearly at work, in the building. Why were her packages almost never addressed under her own name?

I lowered my head and looked at the shipping label.

The recipient's name was clear as day: Nicole Sullivan.

The telephone number wasn't my mobile phone number.

Instead, it was the landline at the design department's front desk.

Behind the address, there was even a detailed note:

"Design Team B, third desk on the left."

I raised my head and asked her, "Why did you write my name?"

The smile on Rachel's face faded slightly.

"Because it's convenient!

"The delivery guys all know you by now. That guarantees it won't get lost."

"Why didn't you use your own mobile phone number then?"

She visibly hesitated for a moment.

However, she quickly laughed it off.

"I've been getting way too many spam calls lately.

"Nicole, what's wrong with you today?

"It's just a delivery package. You're interrogating me like a criminal."

Her tone was still laced with laughter.

Yet for the first time, I caught her underlying impatience.

Bullet comments floated before my eyes once more.

"She's getting spooked."

"Of course she can't leave her own number. That number of hers has already been flagged by several platforms as a high-risk account."

"The camera is just the beginning. Next up is a laptop and a watch worth over twenty grand."

"All with your name as recipient."

My palms were instantly drenched in sweat.

I pushed the sign-off slip back.

"It's not mine. I'm not signing."

Rachel's expression finally changed.

"Nicole?"

I ignored her and told the delivery man:

"The actual recipient is right here. Have her sign for it."

The man clearly didn't want to get involved and handed the pen to Rachel.

"Then you sign it."

Rachel stood still without moving.

"How could I?"

The man was thoroughly bewildered.

"Just sign your name."

She pursed her lips.

"But the name on the shipping label isn't mine."

At that I let out a soft laugh: "You can present your purchase record."