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datatime: 2022-12-08 13:37:11 Author:GFuBAarq

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.

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

"Threatening you with the letter?"

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

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

"Vincent. This morning."

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

"Is this it?" Gil says.

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

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

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