“I’m not signing over the I-70 routes,” I said.

“Then watch the trucks stay parked,” she said.

The line went dead.

I lowered the phone, my fingers numb.

“She’s waiting for me to break,” I said.

“Are you going to?” Calvin asked.

I looked at him, then at Sayer, and finally at the snow swirling outside the window.

“Get the car,” I said to Calvin. “We’re going to the warehouse.”

As Calvin reached for his coat, the main office door downstairs clicked open.

We heard footsteps on the stairs, slow and deliberate, coming up to the legal floor.

“Avery?” Calvin asked again, his eyes darting from me to the far end of the dock.

I did not answer him.

I walked toward bay four, my boots sliding slightly on the thin sheet of ice forming on the concrete.

The wind howled through the open bay door, bringing a flurry of snow that settled on the wooden pallets.

Marcus was already in the forklift, lifting the first crate of insulin.

“Stop,” I said, raising my hand.

Marcus cut the engine, the sudden quiet of the bay making the wind sound even louder.