'I'm scared, Hank,' she said, and I nodded.
'It'll be all right,' I whispered again, feeling foolish this time. But there was nothing else to say.
I WAS up early the next morning. I dressed in the hallway and brushed my teeth downstairs so I wouldn't wake Sarah. In the kitchen I made myself some coffee, and while I drank it I read yesterday's newspaper.
Then I drove over to Jacob's.
I parked across the street from his apartment, right behind his pickup. It was a beautiful morning, cold, crisp, cloudless. Everything looked clean, scrubbed -- the striped vinyl awning of the grocery store, the parking meters' silver pillars, the flag snapping in the wind above the town hall. It was still early, a little before eight, but Ashenville was already wide awake, the street active with people coming and going, newspapers folded under their arms, cups of coffee steaming in their mittened hands. Everyone seemed to be smiling.
Jacob, as I'd expected, was asleep when I arrived. I had to pound, wait, and then pound again before I heard him shuffling slowly toward the door. When he finally got there, he seemed displeased to find me standing outside. He leaned against the doorjamb for a moment, squinting at the light from the hallway, a look of profound disappointment on his face. Then he grunted hello, turned, and stumbled back into the apartment's dim interior.
I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the lack of light. His apartment was cramped, airless. It was just a big, square, carpetless room. Off to the left was a door leading to a tiny bathroom. Next to it, running the entire length of the apartment, was a two-foot-deep recess cut into the wall. This was Jacob's kitchen. There was a bed, a table with two chairs, an old, broken-down couch, a television set. Dirty clothes were strewn across the couch; empty beer bottles dotted the floor.
It stank of poverty. Every time I saw it, it made me sick.
Jacob returned to the bed, collapsing on his back. The bedsprings moaned beneath his weight. He was dressed in a pair of long johns and a T-shirt. The thermal underwear clung grotesquely to the soft thickness of his thighs. There was a good three inches of skin showing beneath the bottom of his shirt. It was fat -- white, rippled, malleable. It seemed obscene to me. I wanted him to cover himself with a blanket.
I went over and pulled open the blinds on the two windows, filling the room with sunlight. Jacob shut his eyes. The air was thick with dust, sifting slantwise through the light like miniature snow. I considered briefly the possibility of sitting down, eyed the couch with distaste, and decided not to. I leaned back against the windowsill and folded my arms across my chest.
'What'd you do last night?' I asked Jacob.
Mary Beth was on the foot of the bed, his head resting on his paws, one ear cocked, one eye open, watching me.
Jacob, eyes shut, shrugged. 'Nothing.' His voice was gritty with sleep.
'You go out?'
He shrugged again.
'With Lou?'
'No.' He coughed, cleared his throat. 'I've got a cold. I didn't go out.'
'I saw Lou,' I said.
Jacob pulled a blanket over himself and rolled onto his side, his eyes still closed.
'He came by the house.'
Jacob opened his eyes. 'And?'
'Nancy was with him, and somebody else. I thought it might've been you.'
He didn't say anything.
'Were you there? In the car?'
'I told you.' His voice sounded as if he felt picked on. 'I didn't see Lou last night. I'm sick.'
'That's the truth?'
'Come on, Hank.' He rose up on his elbow. 'Why would I lie to you?'
'Was it Sonny?'
'Sonny?'
'Sonny Major. Was it him in the car?'
'I don't know. How would I know that?' He put his head back down on the pillow, but he was fully awake now. I could tell it from the sound of his voice.
'Are they friends?'
'Sure. He's his landlord.'
'They go out together?'
'I don't know,' Jacob said tiredly. 'Why not?'
'Does he know about the money?'
'The money?'
'Yes,' I shouted, exasperated. 'Has Lou told him about the money?'
Someone banged against the wall next door, and we both froze.
After a moment, Jacob sat up in bed. He dropped his legs over the edge, leaned forward with his forearms resting on his knees. I stared at his naked feet. I was always shocked by their size. They looked like two raw chickens.
'You've got to relax, Hank. You're getting paranoid. Nobody knows but us and Nancy and Sarah.'
'Sarah doesn't know.'
He looked up at me, then shrugged. 'Us and Nancy then. That's it.'
The dog climbed out of bed, stretched, then walked across the floor toward the bathroom. He disappeared inside and started to drink loudly from the toilet. We listened until he stopped.
'I killed Pederson for you, Jacob,' I said.
He straightened up. 'What?'
'I killed him for you.'
'Why the fuck do you keep saying that? What does that mean?'
'It means I put myself at risk for you, and you turn around and betray me.'
'Betray you?'
'You told Lou where I hid the money.'
'Hank, what the fuck's going on with you today?'
'He knew it was in the garage.'
Jacob was silent. The dog came walking back out of the bathroom, his nails clicking against the tiled floor.
'You never said I shouldn't,' Jacob mumbled.
Very quietly, I said, 'You told him about Pederson.'
'I didn't...'
'You betrayed me, Jacob. You promised me you wouldn't tell.'
'I didn't tell him anything. He's just guessing. He did the same thing to me.'
'Why would he've guessed something like that?'
'I told him how we went back to the plane that morning. He'd just seen about Pederson on the news, and he said, 'Did you kill him?''
'And you denied it?'
He hesitated. 'I didn't tell him.'
'Did you deny it?'
'He guessed, Hank,' Jacob said, his voice impatient, put upon. 'He just knew.'
'Well that's great, Jacob. Because now he's using it to blackmail me.'
'Blackmail you?'
'He says he'll tell if I don't give him his share.'
Jacob thought about that. 'Are you going to do it?'
'I can't. He'd start spending hundred-dollar bills all over town. He'd get us caught just as quick doing that as he would by telling Carl about Pederson.'
