back.'
Carl peered at me over the rim of his half-raised window, a look of concern on his face. 'What happened to your head?'
I touched the bump with my hand, then waved out toward the woods. 'Walked into a branch,' I said. It was the first thing I thought of.
He continued to stare at me for another second or so, then glanced off toward Jacob and Lou. They'd both given him a wave when he pulled up, but now they'd climbed inside Jacob's truck. Their faces were close together, practically touching, and they were talking in what I could only call a conspiratorial manner. Lou was speaking, gesturing excitedly with his hands, and Jacob was nodding at what he said. Mary Beth was sitting on Jacob's lap, staring out the window at us.
'They been drinking?' Carl asked quietly.
'Not yet,' I said. 'Jacob and I were at the cemetery this afternoon.'
'The cemetery?'
I nodded. 'Visiting my parents' graves. This is the day we always do it.'
'New Year's Eve?' His face lit up. He seemed to enjoy the idea of this.
'I took the day off,' I said.
Carl reached forward and flicked a switch on the dashboard, turning the truck's heater to high. There was a warm, rushing sound inside the cab. 'Is Jacob still out of work?' he asked.
'He's looking,' I lied, feeling the usual flood of embarrassment I experienced whenever my brother's joblessness became a topic of conversation.
'Lou working?'
'No. I don't think so.'
Carl shook his head sadly, staring across the road at them. 'That's a shame, isn't it? Two grown men, both eager for work. This country...' He trailed off, seemingly lost in thought.
'Well,' I started, 'we should probably--'
'Lou used to coach baseball,' Carl said, cutting me off. 'At a boy's camp up in Michigan. Used to be one hell of a shortstop. You know that?'
'No,' I said. 'I'd never heard that before.'
'You wouldn't guess it looking at him now. But there was a time...'
Jacob's truck made a creaking sound as he pushed open his door. Carl fell silent, and we both watched my brother squeeze himself out onto the road and lumber toward us.
'Hello, Jacob,' Carl said. 'I was beginning to think maybe you were trying to avoid me.'
Jacob smiled sheepishly. It was his usual expression when approaching figures of authority. As soon as I saw it, I remembered it from our childhood. It was how he'd looked when a teacher called on him in school.
'I was just cold,' he said. 'I wanted to get in the truck and warm up a bit.'
'Hank tells me you two were visiting your parents' graves today.'
Jacob glanced at me, then gave Carl a hesitant nod.
'That's a good thing,' Carl said, 'a real good thing. I hope my kids do the same for me when I'm gone.'
'My dad made us,' Jacob said. 'It was in his will.'
Carl didn't seem to hear him. 'I remember your father,' he started, but then seemed immediately to think better of it, as if suddenly unsure that it was actually our father he remembered and not some other deceased native of Ashenville. He shook his head. 'A good man,' he said. 'An exceptionally good man.'
Neither Jacob nor I could come up with a way to respond to that. There was a moment's silence, which Jacob ended finally by saying, 'You tell him about the plane?'
I looked at him in shock. He had a big grin on his face, his fat cheeks ridged with dimples, his lips pulling back to show his teeth. He glanced toward me, and, for a second, I was afraid he might even wink.
'What's this?' Carl asked. He looked from Jacob to me.
'Hank and I were driving by here on Tuesday, this exact same stretch of road, and we thought we heard a plane going down.'
'A plane?'
Jacob nodded. 'It was snowing pretty hard, and we couldn't be sure, but it sounded exactly like a plane having engine trouble.'
Carl stared at him, eyebrows raised, waiting. I tried to think of something to say, some way to change the subject, but nothing came. I stood there, angrily willing Jacob to shut his mouth.
'There haven't been any reports of a missing plane?' he asked.
'No,' Carl said slowly, drawing it out, as if to show that he was thinking while he talked, taking what Jacob had told him seriously. 'Can't say I've heard anything like that.' He glanced at me again. 'You just heard an engine? No crash?'
I forced myself to nod.
'Could've been anything then. A motorcycle, a snowmobile, a chain saw.' He waved across the fields toward the southeast. 'Maybe it was something Dwight Pederson was tinkering with.'
We all turned and stared at the Pederson place. There were lights on in the downstairs windows, but the barn and outbuildings were lost in the darkness.
'If you do hear anything,' Jacob said, still wearing his clownish smile, 'you should give us a call. We could show you where we were.'
'I'm sure it would've been reported by now,' Carl said. 'Planes don't just drop out of the sky without people noticing them missing.'
I looked at my watch, trying to cut things off before Jacob had a chance to say anything more. 'You're probably eager to get home, Carl. It's after five.'
He shook his head, sighing. 'I've got a late one tonight, New Year's Eve and all. Apt to be some drinkers out driving.' He looked at Jacob. 'I trust you won't be one of them.'
Jacob's smile faded from his face. 'No. You don't have to worry about me.'
Carl stared at him for a second, as if expecting him to say something more. Then he turned toward me. 'How's Sarah getting along? She must be about due, if I'm not mistaken.'
'End of January,' I said. My wife was eight months pregnant with our first child.
'You'll have to wish her a happy new year from me,' Carl said. He began to roll up his window. 'And tell Lou not to be so shy next time. I won't bite.'
CARL drove off while we were climbing into the truck. He continued westward, away from Ashenville.
'Just drive for a bit, Jacob,' I said. 'Don't follow him. Head back toward town.'
Jacob started the engine. It took him a while to turn around on the narrow road.
'Go slowly,' I said. I was afraid that some of the packets might blow out of the truck bed if we went too fast.
Nobody spoke until we were on our way. Then, as we were crossing the bridge over Anders Creek, I said, 'Whose idea was that? To ask him about the plane?' I leaned forward so I could see both of them. Lou was sitting in the center, with the dog in his lap. He had his arms around him, hugging him to his chest. Neither of them answered me.
'Was it yours, Lou?' I'd meant to question them calmly, to rationally show them the danger of what they'd done, but my voice betrayed me, coming out tight and full of anger.
Lou shrugged. 'We thought it up together.'
'Why?' I asked.
'So we could find out if anyone was looking for the plane,' Jacob said. His voice sounded triumphant, as if he felt he'd outwitted me. 'And not only that, but now if someone does come looking for it, Carl'll call us first. That way we won't be surprised.'
'You've just decided to steal three million dollars, and the first thing you do is interrogate the sheriff about it. Doesn't that seem even the slightest bit foolish to you?'
'We found out that no one's looking for it,' Jacob said. 'We never would've known that if we hadn't asked.'
