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will probably want us all together when he talks to us.”
    “It would be easier for him if we were all in the same place,” Honey agreed. Then she smiled wryly. “Besides, I don’t want to go home and answer a bunch of questions, either. I’d rather be with other people who don’t want to talk about what just happened. I’ll call home from your house and ask Miss Trask.”
    The Bob-Whites drove to Crabapple Farm, the Belden home, in silence. Helen Belden met them at the back door with a worried expression, but Brian stopped her questions with a finger-to-lips gesture.
    “We’re all right, Moms,” he said gently. “And the man who was run down is in the hospital. That’s all we want to say about it right now, okay?”
    Mrs. Belden opened her mouth to speak, then pressed her lips together and nodded. “Okay,” she said.
    Trixie threw her arms around her mother and felt the comfort of the familiar embrace. “Oh, Moms, you’re wonderful. You understand everything.” She pulled away as she remembered Honey. “May Honey stay here tonight?”
    Mrs. Belden smiled and put her arm around Honey’s shoulders. “Of course you may, dear,” she said directly to the honey-haired girl. “I’ll call Miss Trask right now and explain.”
    The two girls went up to Trixie’s room and sprawled on the twin beds, staring at the ceiling.
    In spite of herself, Trixie saw the scene of the accident replayed in her mind’s eye: the stranger turning to walk away, the van, coming out of nowhere, bearing down on him— Trixie sat bolt upright. “That’s it!” she shouted.
    Honey jumped nervously at her friend’s exclamation. “What’s it?” she asked.
    “When I saw that green van heading for the stranger, I sort of put words to what was happening.
    In my mind, I mean. Just now, in my mind, I saw the whole thing again, and I put those same words to it. Both times, I thought of that van as ‘coming out of nowhere.’ ”
    “It did seem that way,” Honey admitted. “But I don’t see what you’re getting at.”
    “You don’t?” Trixie asked unbelievingly. “Honey, that van did come out of nowhere. No, I don’t mean out of nowhere. I mean—out of a parking place! Honey, that van wasn’t just coming down the street. It was parked, waiting for the stranger to walk into the street. That man was run down on purpose!”

Unidentified Victim ● 4

    HONEY WHEELER GASPED and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Trixie, you can’t mean what you’re saying,” she said through her fingers.
    “I can and I do,” Trixie replied. “Think about it, Honey. On that dark, deserted street, we should have noticed that van when it was still blocks away. We should have heard the engine and seen the headlights, even before the stranger started across the street. But we didn’t. All of a sudden, there it was, the headlights right in our eyes, blinding us.”
    “Stop!” Honey cried, burying her face in her hands. “I don’t want to think about what came after that. It was so awful!”
    “All right,” Trixie said gently. “But we have to think about what came before. It’s important. Sergeant Molinson will want to know.”
    Honey looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders. “You’re right. I’ll think about what happened right up until... well, you know.” She closed her eyes and sat motionless for what seemed like forever to her ever-impatient detective partner.
    Trixie waited, holding her breath, for Honey to play the scene through in her mind. She was eager to hear Honey’s conclusion, but she was also proud of her friend for mustering the courage to think about the accident.
    When Honey finally opened her eyes, her face remained expressionless. There was neither the gleam of triumph that usually meant she’d decided Trixie was right nor the crestfallen look that meant she’d have to disagree with her best friend. “I don’t remember hearing the van or seeing the headlights until it was