Flay saw white pinpoints ahead. He leaned forward over the steering wheel and strained, staring through the rain-spattered windshield, between the sweep of the wipers, as the lights of Cedartown grew larger and brighter at his approach. He slowed for the well-known police speed trap on the outskirts, though he doubted it was currently in operation, and eased slowly into the village. He passed the little bar, the Cedar Stop, on the right and the little barber"s salon, the Cedar Shop, on the left. Then he made a left hand turn off the main drag. He slowed two streets down, wanting to be certain of the directions, and started a right-hand turn onto a street without a lighted corner, curb, or shoulder.
He cut the corner too sharply and, without being aware, drove the van off the road. The wet
