CHAPTER SIXThe man in the winterized jeep unzipped a window, leaned out and yelled: “The burgess around here?”
The four soaked men working around the tow truck didn’t even answer. One of them gestured down the road with an arm and they went back to trying to get a line to a car that had gone off the road. It was now roof-deep in the torrent that had once been a drainage ditch, and up to five minutes ago it had looked as though something was moving behind the windshield.
The man in the jeep spat into the rain and drove on. He finally found the burgess’s car parked with its lights on, along with a couple of others, a few yards from the edge of the river. That was crazy, he thought, why didn’t they park them up on the highway, twenty-five feet above the water? Then he remembered that he was
