Chapter 15
Valdosta, GA
Tuesday—noon
FROM THE FBI OFFICE, I drove straight to the expressway. Once we were on I-10 and later I-75, we made good time, and two hours later we stopped for lunch in Valdosta. I was yawning when we left the restaurant, so I asked Nate if he wanted to drive.
“Sure. How fast can I go?”
“That depends upon how many fines you can afford to pay and how much damage you want to do to your auto insurance premiums when you rack up points on your license.”
“Spoilsport.”
“I’m serious. Someone told me that the Georgia legislature passed a law that automatically gives you a five-miles-per-hour leeway, but I also know that a lot of local jurisdictions are hurting for money and trolling the interstates for victims.”
“Okay, I’ll set the cruise for two miles above the pos
