I hadn’t heard her voice in five years.

“Avery, listen to me very carefully,” she said, her voice shaking slightly, devoid of its usual cold composure.

“I don’t have time for this,” I said, my thumb ready to cut the connection.

“Don’t hang up,” she said, her tone urgent. “Your father doesn’t know I’m calling you.”

I held the phone to my ear, the diesel engine rumbling beneath me.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“You can’t drive those trucks out of the yard,” she said.

“We’re already leaving,” I said, shifting the truck into low gear.

“No, Avery, you don’t understand,” she said, her voice dropping to a panicked whisper. “It’s not just about the bad insulin.”

I paused, my foot hovering over the clutch.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“The brakes on the lead rig,” she whispered.

My eyes went wide as I looked down at the air brake valve on the dashboard.

“Avery?” she said. “Are you there?”

Before I could answer, the glass of my driver’s side window shattered inward.