passing fields, a sullen set to his shoulders.
I braked the car, pulling over to the side of the road. Mary Beth skidded, legs flailing, to the floor behind us. 'He told her, didn't he?'
We were somewhere near where we'd counted the money the night before. There were no houses in sight, no cars. The land was treeless and white.
Jacob turned from the window. His face looked tired, creased. 'Come on, Hank. Let's just get there and do this.'
I put the car in park. The dog scrambled back up onto his seat, whimpering. We both ignored him.
'He'll have to tell her someday, won't he?' Jacob asked. 'How's he going to take his share without telling her?'
'You're saying she knows?' I asked. I took a deep breath. My voice sounded panicked, even to myself.
'You're trying to tell me you didn't say anything to Sarah?'
'That's right.'
He watched me, as if waiting for me to change my mind.
'Did he tell her or not?' I asked.
He continued to stare at me. He seemed to consider something for a second but then put it aside. He turned back toward the window.
'I don't know,' he said.
I waited. Of course Lou has told her, I thought. Just like I told Sarah. And Jacob knows about both of us. I considered briefly the importance of this, that Jacob had lied to me, that I in turn had lied to him, and that we each knew the other was lying. For a second it almost seemed funny, and I smiled.
Jacob waved down the road. 'Come on,' he said tiredly. 'Let's get this over with.'
WE APPROACHED the nature preserve from the same direction we had the day before, coming across the low cement bridge over Anders Creek, then down past Dwight Pederson's farm along the park's southern edge. There was a dog sitting at the end of Pederson's driveway, a large collie, and it barked at us as we drove by, a deep, full-chested sound. Mary Beth barked back, high-pitched, startling us, and then, tail up, turned to watch the collie recede through the rear window.
I parked next to the gouge Jacob's truck had left in the snowbank the day before and shut off the engine. I was appalled at the marks we'd left on the place. Our tracks moved off from the road, cutting a giant, ragged gash straight into the woods. Anyone driving by would've noticed them immediately. To the left the fox's tracks trailed across the field toward Pederson's farm, a string of tiny black dots in the snow, straight and precise. I followed them with my eyes.
'You're going to park here?' Jacob asked. 'Right out in the open?'
I considered this briefly. He was right, of course, but I could think of no alternative. 'You see a hiding place somewhere?' I said.
'We could drive around to the park entrance, bring the car inside.'
I shook my head; this was something I'd already debated and put aside. I listed off my reasons now, one at a time. 'The gate'll be locked,' I said, 'the road inside won't be plowed, and we'd probably get lost if we tried to find the plane without having our tracks to lead us to it.'
Jacob glanced back toward the bridge. 'It just seems like a risk, leaving it out like this.'
'We left your truck here yesterday.'
'Yesterday we didn't know what was in there.'
'It's okay, Jacob. We'll do it quickly. In and out in a flash.'
'Maybe we should just blow it off.'
I noticed that he was sweating profusely, a hangover sweat, pungent smelling, like overripe fruit. He wasn't worried about someone seeing the car, I realized; he was worried about the hike into the park.
'You drank too much last night,' I said. 'Didn't you?'
He ignored my question. He wiped his face on the sleeve of his jacket, and it left a dark spot on the fabric. 'My truck yesterday,' he said, 'your car today. It might start people wondering.'
I unhooked my seat belt, preparing to climb from the car, and as I did so, I felt the bag of money resting heavily against my gut. It'd be easier, I saw suddenly, if he didn't come. I turned to look at him. He had ketchup smeared across his chin.
'This is what we'll do,' I said. 'You'll stay here. I'll go in, straighten things out at the plane, and come back as quick as I can. If anyone drives by while I'm gone, you can pretend you're fixing something with the car.'
'And if they stop to help?'
'You talk to them.'
'Talk to them? What the fuck am I supposed to talk to them about?' His voice came out thin and tight sounding. I couldn't tell whether it was from fatigue or disgust.
'Tell them it's okay. Tell them you've got it fixed.'
'And what about the tracks?' He waved off into the woods.
'I'll bring the dog with me,' I said. 'If anybody asks, you can just say Mary Beth ran off, and Lou and I went in after her.'
'We'll end up getting in trouble if someone comes by. They'll remember we were here when they finally discover the plane.'
'It'll be spring before anyone finds the plane. No one's going to remember our being here after all that time.'
'What if the sheriff comes by again?'
I frowned. I'd forced myself to forget about Carl. 'He won't come by,' I said, with exaggerated self- confidence. 'He had to work late last night. I guarantee you he's still in bed.'
'And if he isn't?'
'If he comes by, you can tell him we lost something here last night. Tell him I dropped my hat in the woods and wanted to come back to search for it.'
'Yesterday you yelled at me for taking risks. This seems like more of a risk than what I did.'
'It's a necessary risk, Jacob. There's a difference.'
'I don't see what's so necessary about it.'
I shrugged, feigning indifference. 'If you want, we can just burn the money right now. It'll save me the hike.'
'I don't want to burn the money, I want to leave.'
'I'm going in there, Jacob. You can either stay here and stand guard, or come along with me.'
There was a long pause while he looked for a way out. He didn't find one. 'I'll stay here,' he said.
I put on a wool hat, the same dark blue as my jacket and gloves. Then I took the keys from the ignition and shoved them into my pocket.
MARY BETH ran on ahead as I moved into the woods, disappearing through the trees, then came galloping back, the tags on his collar jingling, his fur dusted with snow. He made a few tight circles around me and sprinted off again. I strode after him, feeling good, the cold air invigorating me, waking me up.
It took me about fifteen minutes to reach the rim of the orchard, and I paused there for a moment, surveying the scene. The plane sat in the middle of the shallow bowl, its metallic skin looking burnished, like silver, amidst the dark branches of the apple trees. Our tracks surrounded it, black holes in the snow.
A wind came up, making a rushing sound through the trees around me, and it carried with it a subtle wetness, a sense of imminent change. I glanced at the sky. It was a deep, slow-moving gray, full of the promise of snow.
The crows were still in the orchard. I didn't notice them from the rim of the bowl, but as I started down into it, they suddenly seemed to be everywhere, moving restlessly from tree to tree, cawing incessantly, as if they were arguing with one another.
I moved toward the wreck, my hand cupped against my stomach, supporting the weight of the baby pouch.
