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

"Is this it?" Gil says.

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

"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.

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

"You're the one who ran," I say under my breath.

"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.

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

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 lied to them."

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

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."

"Is this it?" Gil says.

"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.

"You lied to them."

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

"Is this it?" Gil says.

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

"You lied to them."

"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.

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