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datatime: 2022-11-27 10:59:32 Author:TUnXRYDb

"Is this it?" Gil says.

"Is this it?" Gil says.

"I'm the one who called the police too," he says.

I'm waiting for Gil to react, but he keeps his eyes on the road. Staring at the back of Paul's head, I have the strange sensation of looking at myself from behind, of being inside my father's car again.

"You're the one who ran," I say under my breath.

"Paul" I get out of the car, trying to keep my voice at a whisper.

The houses before us are fashioned in white clapboard. At Taft's address, all windows are unlit. Just beyond them stands the tree line of the Institute woods, its canopy tinseled in white.

"You're the one who ran," I say under my breath.

Gil doesn't even hear us. Shaken by the sight of Taft's house, he lightens pressure on the brakes, letting us roll in neutral, prepared to go back. Just as his foot begins to engage the clutch, though, Paul yanks the door handle and stumbles out onto the curb.

The houses before us are fashioned in white clapboard. At Taft's address, all windows are unlit. Just beyond them stands the tree line of the Institute woods, its canopy tinseled in white.

"That's why the police took Vincent in," he says. "I told them I saw Vincent near Dickinson when Bill was shot."

"Jesus, Paul," I say. "How do even you know the blueprint is here?"

"That's why the police took Vincent in," he says. "I told them I saw Vincent near Dickinson when Bill was shot."

"What do we do?" Gil says, beside him.

The wind hisses around the door as he opens it, muffling his words. I can see Paul mouth something to us, pointing at the house. He begins hiking toward it in the snow.

"Threatening you with the letter?"

"You lied to them."

A light in the neighboring house comes on, but Paul pays no attention. He paces up to Taft's front porch and puts his ear to the door, gently rapping.

I can hear it in his voice, the accusation sneaking in. Everything returns to the moment I pushed Taft.

"Is this it?" Gil says.

"You're the one who ran," I say under my breath.

"We can't do this," I say as I walk toward them, trying for some authority.

"He knew he had nothing on me. So he started in on your dad."

"That's why the police took Vincent in," he says. "I told them I saw Vincent near Dickinson when Bill was shot."

But Paul is already inside, scanning the first floor. Without a word, he's deep into the house.

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