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Release date: 2022-12-07 11:08:25 Author:VgHylRIU

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

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

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

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

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

"You lied to them."

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

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.

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.

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

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

"Vincent. This morning."

"Vincent. This morning."

"Threatening you with the letter?"

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.

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

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

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.

"Is this it?" Gil says.

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

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

"Is this it?" Gil 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.

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.

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

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

"Vincent. This morning."

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