It hits me all at once. There, under the tree, Tanya leering up at me, sunlit face speckled with the wavering shadows of leaves.

No. I realize.

It had started hitting me the moment I first locked eyes with her. Perhaps it really has taken this long for the idea to form fully, like a fuzzy moth excising itself from its cocoon.

That look. That flash of….knowing.

Mason and Sater, too. All of them. There’s something going on here, just underneath the surface. Not all is as it seems.

It’s shocking. It’s chilling. It’s like that moment in a good thriller when you can just about see the twist coming.

Which, of course, is different for everybody. Some people put the pieces together right away. They’re not stuck in the story, immersed in the same way as other readers or viewers. There’s a certain distance, a critical voice talking in their ear. I always wished those people, when they do get the twist, would keep it to themselves, so I don’t have to overhear them whispering in the theater seat in front of me, predicting the ending.

Thanks a lot, geeks. Trying to enjoy the movie, here.

I’m not a viewer, or a reader. I don’t have the luxury of distance. I’m in the story, in the sense that it’s the story of my life.

Maybe that’s part of the problem.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I’m Jimmy Stewart.

Okay, that was a weird thought. I need to work backward, figure that out.

“C’mon, Winter.” Sater says. There’s a nervous edge to his voice. “Spit it out.”

My eyes are still in a deathlock with Tanya’s. It’s a moment frozen in time, like an exhibit in a wax museum.

If I look away, if I relax even a little, she’ll know. My face will change. I’ll—

Oh, yeah. Jimmy Stewart.

There’s this Alfred Hitchcock movie my aunt always liked, where these two guys strangle someone with a length of rope—the movie’s called Rope—and stash his body in this big chest. They throw a blanket over the chest, disguising it as a dining table, and invite a couple friends(one of whom is good old Jimmy Stewart) over for dinner.

For the most part, them and Jimmy are hanging out, laughing, having a good time. But at some point, Jimmy realizes, hey, wait a second, there’s something underneath this tablecloth!

I’m Jimmy Stewart. I know there’s something underneath the cloth.

I just don’t know what it is.

More immediately, I don’t know what will happen if they know that I know.

“I fold.”

Tanya doesn’t react right away. There’s a loosening in the tightness around her eyes. What exactly she thinks she sees, I have no idea.

She puts a hand on my chest, pushes me.

I take a step back.

She jams her pistol back into her belt. “We done fooling around?”

I snicker. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

She shoots me another glare as she walks past, stepping through the bushes.

Sater is still watching me. It’s an uncertain look, like maybe he thinks I know something, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Don’t worry. I’m still just as confused as ever.

I bow, waving him ahead of me. “After you.”

Sater shakes his head, arms falling back down to his sides. “You're such a fucking clown,” he says, as he walks past.