“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“You really are stupid, aren’t you?”
“Wait. Come on now …”
“You don’t get it. His company will pay a small fortune to us to keep this from being a big blowout of a trial, especially when it becomes known a mother, her sister and two toddlers were killed by their golden boy.”
“I see.”
“Finally,” the attorney said, exasperation in his voice. “This could be a record-breaking settlement for us. And if they refuse to settle, which they won’t, it could be a trial with a record-breaking nuclear verdict.”
The attorney went on, “Are you sure you had this set up so the truck driver will be found responsible for the crash? The news is hinting he will be exonerated.”
“You saw the footage from last night,” Joe replied. “It went off perfectly. That trucker was driving too fast, and wouldn’t let her into his lane, then ran right into her.”
“Good. Now get your ass out of bed and do what I told you about the husband.”
Chapter Nineteen
At the Freightliner dealership Hugh and the service writer walked out to the lot to look over Hugh’s damaged truck.
What Hugh had thought would be a minimal amount of damage was beginning to add up as the service writer walked back and forth around the front end of the truck tap-tapping on his tablet. The problem was that a modern Freightliner like Hugh’s was built with a uni-body bumper and side fender assembly that wraps as one unit from one side of the front end to the other. Damage to even one small corner of a lower front fender would necessitate replacing the whole unit.
The same situation existed for the hood unit, which was one uni-body assembly containing the hood, the quarter panels, the head lights and the front grill.
Damage to any part of the modular unit required replacement of the entire hood assembly.
The most costly, repair-heavy damage, Hugh suspected, would be to the radiator grill and what lay behind it – the engine cooling assembly.
As massive as modern big rig trucks look, they are really quite fragile, with little or no real front bumper to protect from any kind of front end collision.
“What’s it looking like?” Hugh asked Jake the service writer. Jake’s name was embroidered on his pin-striped service department shirt.
Hugh was more interested in the time than in the cost, because every mile he wasn’t rolling down the road was money. He had played up his income for Jenny’s benefit, but the fact is that Hugh was an owner-operator, and time off the road could cause his income to drop off dramatically. He had come off of a two-month hiatus, which had taken a further bite into this year’s income. He had some significant makeup driving to do.
“Looks like a week. If we’re lucky and don’t hit a snag with getting parts,” Jake said.
“Are snags expected?”
“Not usually. But you never know. Some parts are standard, in stock. We’ll have to see.”
“And the cost?”
“We might be looking at between ten and fifteen depending on how much damage there is to the cooling system behind the radiator. You’re lucky it looks like there’s no damage to the frame or steering.”
"With so much time lost in the last few months, I hope it's closer to ten thousand," Hugh replied.
He followed Jake into the service department to sign insurance papers.
Hugh went back to sit in his truck to make some phone calls and to check to make sure he and Jenny had everything they would need from it for the time being.
Hugh’s first call was to his dispatcher, Gloria, to let her know the potential timeline for him getting back on the road.
“Can you transfer me to safety, please?” he asked her.
The fleet safety officer would need a full report from him, and photos of the damage emailed to him.
When Gordon, the safety officer, got on the line, Hugh gave him a quick rundown on what had happened. And answered some questions.
Then, as he was about to hang up, Gordon asked, “Where are you?”
“Right now, I’m at the Freightliner dealer in Phoenix, right off of 1-10 south of 202. But, I’m staying at the South Mountain Resort and Spa a little north of here on 10.”
“Hold for a minute,” Gordon said.
When Gordon came back, he said, “I want you to go immediately to a DOT drug-testing facility. It’s on West Chandler Boulevard east of 10. I’ll call and have them ready for you. You haven’t had drinks or anything before or after the accident, have you?”
Hugh had always thought questions like that from a safety officer sounded more accusatory than questioning, but he kept that opinion to himself.
“No. Nothing. Of course.”
“Good. Just asking. I’ll text you the address. Get there as soon as you can. And don’t forget to email me those photos.”
The second call was to the ranch.
“Hi, Mom,” he said when his mom picked up.
“Hugh, honey. Are you guys all right?” his mom asked.
“We’re fine. How did you know?”
Hugh hadn’t thought news of a Phoenix crash would have made it all the way up to Northern Idaho.
“It’s all over the news here,” she said. “Someone must have seen the Phoenix story and made the connection with our local hero trucker. Apparently, they’re still interested in you.”
“Yeah. I guess there’s no real time limit on the fifteen minutes of fame,” Hugh said.
“What happened?”
“You remember I’ve told you about how four-wheelers in a hurry like to swerve in and crowd into the gap I leave for my following distance?”
“Yes, I remember. You say it happens all the time.”
“This was one of those times when it went very, very badly. Investigators are still figuring out what happened, but it looks like
