Chapter 8

Boone climbed down from the plow. He had the tire iron. He walked toward me across the ice. The dozer sat between us, but he was coming around the blade.

"You think a dozer's going to stop me?" he said. "You think Marnie's little radio show is going to save you?"

"You're recorded," I said. "Everyone heard."

"Everyone in Granite Notch. So what? They've heard worse."

He stepped over the dozer's track. I tried to crawl backward. My contractions ripped through me. I couldn't stand.

He grabbed my hair and pulled me up. The tire iron was in his other hand. "You're going to tell them you made it up. You're going to say you spliced the recording."

"No."

He raised the tire iron. Then the plow's floodlight snapped on. It hit Boone square in the face. He threw up his arm. I turned my head.

Cody stood by the plow. He had climbed into the cab. His hand was on the floodlight switch. "Let her go, Uncle Boone."

Boone turned. "You little-"

"Let her go."

Cody's voice cracked, but his hand didn't move. The floodlight stayed on Boone. The open channel was still live. Marnie's voice came through the handheld: "Cody? Cody, is that you?"

Boone dropped my hair. He took a step toward the plow. "Get out of my cab."

"No."

"I'll break your arm."

"You already broke enough."

Boone lunged. Cody slammed the plow into gear. The machine lurched forward. Boone dove out of the way. The plow's blade caught the dozer and spun it sideways. The road was blocked completely.

Boone scrambled up. He ran at the cab. Cody locked the door. Boone pounded on the glass. The floodlight blazed. I could hear the struggle over the open channel-Boone shouting, Cody screaming, the plow engine roaring.

"Marnie!" I yelled into the handheld. "Do you hear that? Do you hear him?"

"I hear it."

"Then call state police. Now."

"I already did."

The sirens were closer. Blue lights flickered through the trees at the bottom of the logging road. Boone heard them. He stopped pounding. He looked at me, at the dozer, at the plow, at his nephew inside it.

"You did this," he said.

"No," I said. "You did."

He ran for the tree line. He didn't get far. The state police cruiser slid to a stop at the bottom of the blocked road. Two troopers got out with guns drawn. Boone stopped. He put his hands up. The tire iron fell into the snow.

Cody opened the plow door. He was crying. I lay on the ice with my hand on my belly and the handheld still transmitting. Marnie's voice was quiet now.

"Tessa," she said. "They've got him. They've got him."

I closed my eyes. The baby kicked once, hard. The storm kept falling. The road was blocked. The recording was out. For the first time in two winters, the truth was louder than Boone.