A Simple Plan by Scott Smith Read Free Book Online

We could go to jail for what we’ve done tonight.”
    “Come on, Hank,” Lou said. “No one’s going to send us to jail for this. None of us has records, we aren’t criminals. Anyone would’ve done what we did.”
    “You’re saying we didn’t commit a crime?”
    “I’m saying they wouldn’t send us to jail for it. Even if they convicted us, we’d get a suspended sentence.”
    “Especially if we hadn’t spent any of the money yet,” Jacob said. “I think—”
    “I don’t care what you think,” I said, my voice rising toward a shout. “If I feel like you’re taking unnecessary risks, I’ll burn the money.” I looked from Jacob to Lou. “Do you understand?”
    Neither of them said anything.
    “I’m not going to jail because of something stupid you two idiots have done.”
    They both stared at me, shocked by my outburst. Mary Beth made a whimpering sound in Lou’s arms. I looked out the window. We were on Burnt Road, moving south, surrounded by fields.
    I took a deep breath, tried to calm myself down. “I just want you to be careful,” I said.
    “We’ll be careful, Hank,” Jacob said quickly. “Of course we’ll be careful.”
    Lou didn’t say anything, but I could sense him, even with my head turned toward the window, grinning at Jacob.
    “Stop the truck,” I said. “We can count it here.”
     
    J ACOB pulled off onto the edge of the road, and we climbed outside into the cold. We were about three miles west of town. Snow-covered fields lined either side of the road, and there were no houses in sight, no lights of any sort. If a car had approached us from either direction, we would’ve been able to see it for nearly a mile before it reached us.
    Jacob and Lou counted the money; I stood behind them with a flashlight. Mary Beth remained inside the empty cab, sleeping on the seat. They organized the packets into stacks; each stack was ten packets high. It seemed to take forever to count them. I divided my attention equally between the piles of money and the surrounding horizon, alert for approaching lights.
    The night was very quiet. The wind hissed across the empty fields; the snow made an occasional creaking sound as it settled alongside the road; and over it all, soft but insistent, came the steady shuffling hush, like cards being dealt at a casino, of Jacob and Lou counting the packets into piles.
    When they finished, there were forty-four stacks lined up one after the other along the truck’s tailgate. It was $4.4 million.
    It took a little while for this to sink in. We stood there, gazing at the money. Lou counted the stacks again, touching the top packet of each one with his forefinger.
    “How much is that apiece?” Jacob whispered.
    I had to think for a second. “Almost a million and a half.”
    We continued to stare at the money, stunned.
    “Put it away,” I said finally, shivering in the cold. I handed Jacob the duffel bag and watched it grow solid as he slowly refilled it.
    When all the money was inside, I took it back to the cab.
     
    L OU LIVED southwest of Ashenville, in the opposite direction from me, and we drove there first. It was getting colder and colder; a fretwork of ice was forming along the edge of the windshield. The torn rear window flapped in the wind, sending a steady stream of frigid air pulsing through the cab. Mary Beth rode in the back, huddled halfway into the truck, right up against our necks, so that I could hear him breathing in my ear. The bag of money was resting on the floor, wedged tightly between my legs. I held the top shut with my hand.
    It was quarter till seven by the time we reached Lou’s.
    Nancy’s car was in the yard, and there were lights on in the house. It was a large, run-down farmhouse, ancient, one of the oldest surviving homes in the area. Lou and Nancy rented it from Sonny Major, whose grandfather had once owned all the surrounding fields, growing corn and cabbage in them; he’d been one of the region’s gentry in the high