A Simple Plan

The thought of him owning Jacob's gun gave me a distinctly unsafe feeling. It seemed like a piece of evidence somehow, and I didn't want him to have it. But I couldn't think of a way to put him off.

'I don't think it'll be a matter of bidding, Carl,' I said. 'You just offer me a price and it's yours.'

'How's four hundred dollars sound?'

I gave my hand a little wave. 'I'll give it to you for three hundred.'

'You're not much of a bargainer, Hank.' He smiled.

'I wouldn't want to overcharge you.'

'Four hundred's a fair price. I know my guns.'

'All right, then. Whatever you feel more comfortable with. But I'll give it to you for three.'

He frowned. I could see that he wanted to pay less now but felt like he'd trapped himself into paying four hundred.

'How about I drop it off at your office tomorrow morning,' I asked, 'and you can just send me a check after you give it a closer look?'

He nodded slowly. 'That sounds like a good plan.'

We talked about other things then: the weather, Sarah, the baby. But when he rose to leave, he returned to the rifle. 'You're sure you want to sell it?' he asked. 'I wouldn't want to pressure you into it.'

'Can't say I have much use for it myself, Carl. Never hunted in my life.'

'Your father never took you hunting as a boy?' He seemed surprised.

'No,' I said. 'I've never even shot a gun.'

'Not once?'

I shook my head.

He stood there before my desk, staring at me for several seconds. His hat was in his hands, and he was playing with the brim. For a moment it seemed like he might sit back down. 'You'd know how to shoot one, though, wouldn't you?'

I thought about this, suddenly cautious. His voice had changed, become less casual. He wasn't asking the question just for conversation now; he was asking because he wanted to know the answer.

'I suppose,' I said.

He nodded, standing there as if he expected something more. I looked away, staring down at my desk, at my hands spread out across it. In the bright light from my reading lamp, the hair on the backs of my fingers looked gray. I closed them into fists.

'How well did you know Sonny?' he asked, out of the blue.

I glanced up at him, my heart quickening in my chest. 'Sonny Major?'

He nodded.

'Not that well. I knew who he was, he knew who I was. That's about all.'

'Acquaintances.'

'Yes,' I agreed. 'We'd say hello when we passed on the street, but we wouldn't stop to talk.'

Carl took a second to absorb this. Then he put his hat on his head. He was about to leave.

'Why?' I asked.

He shrugged. 'Just wondering.' He gave me a little smile.

I believed him, could tell somehow that he was simply curious rather than suspicious: just as his feelings about my character had blinded him to the possibility of me killing Jacob and Sonny and Nancy, his feelings about Lou had made it hard to accept our story. He sensed, I think, that something was wrong with it, but he couldn't guess exactly what. He wasn't investigating; he was simply reviewing things, idly probing for missing pieces. I knew this, could see that he wasn't a threat. But still the conversation upset me. After he left, I went over and over everything I'd said, every gesture I'd made, searching for mistakes, subtle confessions of guilt. There was nothing there, of course, simply a vague aura of anxiety, growing more and more diffuse every time I tried to pin it down.

I told Sarah about selling the rifle to the sheriff but not about his questions.

THE NIGHT after Carl came by my office, Amanda kept us up late with her crying. We lay in bed with her, the lights out, the room dark, Sarah cuddling the baby in her arms while I wound and rewound Jacob's teddy bear. It was well after midnight before she fell asleep. Sarah and I both sat there in the silence that followed, as if stunned, terrified to move lest we startle the drowsing infant back awake. Our legs were touching beneath the blankets; I could feel Sarah's skin, a little patch of heat along my calf.

'Hank?' she whispered.

'What?'

'Would you ever kill me for the money?' Her tone was playful, joking, but within it, snaking deviously through her voice, I could hear an earnest note.

'I didn't kill them for the money,' I said.

I sensed Sarah turning to glance at me through the darkness.

'I did it so we wouldn't get caught. I did it to protect us.'

Amanda made a sighing sound, and Sarah rocked her back and forth. 'Would you kill me to keep from getting caught, then?' she whispered. The earnest note had grown, pushing aside the playfulness.

'Of course not,' I said, sliding down onto my back. I nestled into my pillow, making a show of it, trying to end the conversation. I was facing away from her.

'What if you knew you could get away with it, and that if you didn't, I'd turn you in?'

'You wouldn't turn me in.'

'Let's say I had a change of heart. I wanted to confess.'

I waited a moment; then I rolled over to face her. 'What're you saying?'

Sarah was a dark shape outlined against the ceiling above me. 'It's just a game. A hypothetical situation.'

I didn't say anything.

'You'd go to jail,' she said.

'I killed them for you, Sarah. For you and Amanda.'

The bed made a creaking sound as she shifted her weight. I felt her leg move away from me. 'You said you killed Pederson for Jacob.'

I thought about that for a second. It was true, but it seemed like it wasn't. I tried to work my way around it.

'I couldn't do it,' I said. 'I'd just go to jail. You two are all I have.' I reached out to touch her but brushed against Amanda instead. She woke up and started to cry.

'Shhh,' Sarah said. We both listened, holding our bodies still, until the baby quieted down.

'Would you've thought you could kill Jacob before you did it?' Sarah whispered.

'That's different. You know that.'

'Different?'

'I can trust you. I couldn't trust him.' As soon as I said it, I realized how it sounded. It was only half what I meant, but I didn't say anything else. It seemed like I'd only make it worse by trying to take it back.

Sarah sat there thinking.

'You know what I mean,' I whispered.

Just barely, I could see her nod. After a moment, she slipped out of bed and took Amanda to her crib. When she came back, she snuggled up close against me. I could feel her breath on my neck, and it made me shiver.

I debated for a bit before I spoke. Then I said, 'Would you kill me?'

'Oh, Hank.' She yawned. 'I don't think I could kill anyone.'

Outside, in the garage, as if he were much closer than he actually was, I heard the dog begin to howl. Jacob's ghost, I thought.

Sarah lifted her head and kissed me on my cheek.

'Good night,' she said.