CHAPTER ELEVENThere was a solid line of cars, bumper to bumper, on the northbound side of the highway. It ended against a roadblock consisting of two state troopers, one standing in the middle of the lane with a double-barreled shotgun over his arm, the other by the roadside where he could look into the cars. Their patrol car was pulled over on the soggy shoulder, its motor idling.
A new Lincoln with a middle-aged man at the wheel was next.
“Why do you want to get through, mister?” the trooper demanded. He had long ago given up the time-consuming request for registration and operator’s permit.
The man was flustered. “I have some friends in Newtown,” he said. “I thought maybe there was something I could do for them—”
The trooper glanced into the back of the car. Empty. “You haven’t got
