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datatime: 2022-12-04 12:43:52 Author:wpzIRXec

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

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.

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

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

"Damn it." Gil brings the Saab to a halt and gets out. "Paul"

Slush sprays the undercarriage of the car as the suspension dances over a pothole.

"Is this it?" Gil says.

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.

"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."

Paul knocks again, then pulls a ring of keys from his pocket and cradles one into the slot. Putting a shoulder into the wood, he sweeps the door forward. Hinges squeal.

Paul knocks again, then pulls a ring of keys from his pocket and cradles one into the slot. Putting a shoulder into the wood, he sweeps the door forward. Hinges squeal.

"It's the only other place he could've hidden it."

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

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

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

Paul knocks again, then pulls a ring of keys from his pocket and cradles one into the slot. Putting a shoulder into the wood, he sweeps the door forward. Hinges squeal.

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

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.

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

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

"You lied to them."

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.

The wind whips through the columns of the fa?ade, licking puffs of snow from the eaves. The window next door goes black. When Paul gets no answer, he tries to turn the knob, but the lock holds fast.

"Threatening you with the letter?"

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