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datatime: 2022-11-29 03:44:08 Author:AmGvuwqi

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.

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

"He's still at the police station," Paul says, almost to himself. "The lights are off."

"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?"

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

"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 lied to them."

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

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

"Threatening you with the letter?"

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

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

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.

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 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.

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

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

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