'It doesn't look like it.'
'You have to go get him.'
'Get Sonny?' I had no idea what she was talking about.
'You have to make it look like Lou came home and found Nancy in bed with him.'
I felt a dizzying wave of nausea rush over my body when she said this. It was all falling into place; she was making everything come together. Sonny was the only other person who knew about the money; if we killed him, it would just be us and Jacob. This was what I'd called her for, a solution to our trouble, but now that she'd found it for me, I didn't want it. It was too much.
'I can't shoot Sonny,' I whispered. I could feel my back sweating, could feel beads forming along my shoulder blades.
'You have to,' Sarah said, pleading now. 'It's the only way it'll work.'
'But I can't just drag him over here and kill him. He doesn't have anything to do with this.'
'They'll send you to jail. Both you and Jacob. You have to save yourselves.'
'I can't, Sarah.'
'Yes, you can,' she said, her voice rising. 'You have to. It's our only chance.'
I didn't say anything. My mind felt dull, numb, my thoughts viscous and unmanageable. I could see what she was saying: by killing Lou and Nancy, we'd taken two steps out over an abyss. We could either stop now, and fall into the pit beneath us, or take this third step and cross to safety. The idea shot through my mind, quickly, more wish than thought, that I didn't really have a choice. For one brief moment I allowed myself to believe it, that I'd lost control. It was a simple, easy feeling. Everything had already been determined for me -- I was just following along now, handing myself over to my fate.
I let the feeling pass, and then I chose.
'This is bad, Sarah,' I said. 'It's evil.'
'Please,' she whispered. 'Do it for me.'
'I don't even know if he's home.'
'You can go check. You have to at least check.'
'And what about Lou?'
'Lou?'
'How do we explain Jacob's shooting Lou?'
Sarah answered me quickly, her voice breathless. 'You tell the police you heard a gun go off as you were pulling out of the driveway. You thought Lou had surprised a burglar, so you stopped the truck and ran up to the house, Jacob with his rifle. As you came up the walk, Lou opened the door. He was drunk, enraged. He saw Jacob running toward him with the rifle, and he raised his shotgun at him. Then Jacob shot him in self-defense.' She paused, and then -- when I didn't respond immediately -- said, 'But you have to hurry, Hank. You're running out of time. They'll be able to tell if the shootings happen too far apart. They'll be able to tell who died first.'
The urgency in her voice was contagious. I felt my pulse thump out from my chest into my arms and head. I started to move back toward the night table. The carpet was soaked with Nancy's blood. I had to walk along the edge of the wall to keep from getting it on my boots.
'Is Jacob okay?' Sarah asked.
'Yes,' I said. 'He was crying before, but I think he's all right now.'
'Where is he?'
'He's downstairs. I think he's getting a drink.'
'You have to talk to him. The police are going to question him. You have to make sure that he understands the story, that he doesn't break down and confess.'
'I'll talk to him,' I said.
'This is important, Hank. He'll be the weak link. If he breaks down, he'll send you both to jail.'
'I know,' I said. 'I'll take care of him. I'll take care of everything.'
Then I hung up the phone and ran downstairs.
I FOUND my brother in the living room, sitting on the couch. He'd unzipped his jacket and was drinking from a glass full of whiskey. His rifle was lying propped up against the foot of the stairs. I didn't look at Lou's body, just scanned it once as I passed through the entranceway, to make sure Jacob hadn't moved it, then stepped quickly down into the living room.
There was a woman's bathrobe draped across the arm of the couch. It was sky blue, silky. I picked it up and sniffed at it -- a sweetish mix of perfume and tobacco. I unzipped my jacket and stuffed it inside.
'Are they coming?' Jacob asked.
'Who?'
'The police.'
'Not yet.'
'Did you call them?'
I shook my head. I saw a pack of Marlboro Lights sitting on the coffee table. Beside it were a lighter and a tube of lipstick. I scooped all three of them up and slid them into my jacket pocket. 'I'm going to go get Sonny,' I said. 'We're going to make it look like Lou shot him and Nancy together.'
I could see Jacob struggling to make sense of this. He frowned up at me, his forehead wrinkling, the glass of whiskey trembling a bit in his hand. 'You're going to shoot Sonny, too?'
'We have to,' I said.
'I don't think I want to do that.'
'It's either that or go to jail. That's our choice.'
Jacob was silent for a moment. Then he asked, 'Why can't we run? Why can't we go get Sarah and the baby and the money and just drive off? We could head down to Mexico. We could--'
'They'd catch us, Jacob. They always do. They'd track us down and bring us back. If we want to save ourselves, this is how we have to do it.' I was feeling panicky with the loss of time, jittery. It seemed like I could actually sense the two corpses cooling, draining, indelibly marking the chronology of their passing. I didn't want to have to argue with Jacob; I'd already made my decision. I turned and started toward the entranceway. 'I'm not going to jail,' I said.
I heard him stand up, as if to come after me. When he spoke, his voice came out high and tight, stopping me in midstride. 'We can't kill all these people.'
I turned to face him. 'I'm going to save us, Jacob. If you let me, I'll be able to make it right.'
His face took on a scared, frantic expression. 'No. We have to stop.'
'I'm just going to--' I began, but he didn't let me finish.
'I want to leave. I want us to run away.'
'Listen to me, Jacob.' I leaned forward and took his sleeve in my hand. I held it very lightly, just a small fold of red nylon between two of my gloved fingers, but it created a sudden, nearly palpable tension in the room. We both fell silent.
'I'm telling you how it's going to look,' I said.
He met my eyes for the briefest of moments. He seemed to be holding his breath. I let go of his jacket.
'Lou comes home. He finds Nancy in bed with Sonny. She thought he was supposed to be out till late. He's drunk, violent; he gets his shotgun, and he shoots them both. We're just pulling out of the driveway. We hear the shots, think that he must've surprised a burglar. We run up to the house, you with your rifle from the truck. Lou opens the front door. He's gone berserk. He points the shotgun at us, and you shoot him.'
Jacob was silent. I wasn't sure if he'd understood it all.
'It makes sense, doesn't it?' I asked.
He didn't answer.
'It'll work, Jacob. I promise. But we have to hurry.'
'I don't want to be the one who shoots Lou,' he said.
'All right. Then we'll tell them I shot him. It doesn't matter.'
There was a long pause. I could hear the tap dripping in the kitchen.
'I just stay here and wait?' Jacob asked.
