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datatime: 2022-11-27 00:32:18 Author:MhHnwche

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.

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

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

"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.

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.

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

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

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.

"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.

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

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

"Threatening you with the letter?"

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.

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.

"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."

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.

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

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

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

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