creative
pulpdecameron...It was no coincidence. How could it be? He'd looked over the facts of the case a thousand times. A father, a mother, a college-age daughter, and teenage son. All killed in car crashes on the same night, each of them caused by an oncoming car swerving to the other side of the road. One family, four accidents, four different cities. Without a doubt, there was foul play.
Of course, the evidence so far was less than circumstantial. But he knew, somewhere, there was a clue - some little bit of information, some sort of link - that would blow the case wide open. It was out there, somewhere.
It couldn't be a coincidence. Someday, he'd find proof. He knew it.