Rain hammered the interstate like it wanted to break through. Dan fought the wheel as the truck fishtailed, the trailer jerking behind him like it had a mind of its own. One hard jolt, a metallic crack, and something inside snapped loose. Crates burst through the back and tumbled out.
The sound of splintering wood and shattering metal, though awful, was drowned by the downpour. He cursed, eased to the shoulder, and blinked through the wipers at the trail of debris behind him. The rain made it impossible to see what had fallen, but one thing was clear—something big had broken free.
Suddenly, headlights appeared behind him. Two white orbs cut through the storm, closing fast. He squinted, expecting flashing red-and-blue, but there were none. The vehicle slowed as it neared. Briefly, he saw the driver stare at him coldly. His stomach turned unpleasantly. That certainly wasn’t highway patrol!