I rolled down my window, thrust my arm out, and pointed straight at Cecil in the truck beside me.
"Cecil, you son of a bitch! You're killing him!"
Cecil sat in the driver's seat and glanced toward my back seat. A flicker of surprise crossed his face.
Then it was replaced by pure, gleeful satisfaction.
His message came through a moment later.
"Ha! My own father never even slapped me, but you had the nerve to. Now your old man's dead, isn't he?"
"Karma. That's what this is. Karma!"
I freed one hand, steadied my phone, and snapped a photo of my father-in-law crumpled in the back seat. I sent it straight to my wife.
"Gretchen! Get it through your head. I am trying to get our father to a hospital. I am driving to save his life!"
Her expression on the screen was dark as a storm. She reached across her car, rummaging for something, then rolled down her window and extended her arm.
A steel wrench glinted in her fist.
I realized what she was about to do.
My heart seized. I screamed, frozen in place.
"Gretchen, no!"
The next instant, her fingers unclenched. The wrench hurtled through the air and slammed into my windshield.
A deafening crack.