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datatime: 2022-12-02 04:18:16 Author:UlUNAIKp

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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

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

"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.

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

"You lied to them."

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

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

"You lied to them."

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."

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.

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