The snow outside bombarded the Honda's windshield with startling speed as Nanette navigated the icy streets, taking as much care as she could with a stressed out teenager urging her forward with every yard. Fortunately, theirs was the only vehicle on the road, the rest of the citizens of Mahnomen sensible enough not to leave their homes during a blizzard.

A stop sign materialized and she slammed on the brakes, rocketing Owen into the dashboard.

"Learn to drive, woman," he muttered, his leg bouncing a mile a minute.

"I could turn around," Nanette said sharply.

"No," Owen said immediately. "I'm sorry. Keep going. Please."

When Nanette had traveled what she felt was the correct distance, she had Owen roll down his window and read the street signs. He pulled his scarf up to his mouth against the bitter wind and leaned his entire torso out the window. Nanette glanced at him every few seconds, ready to grab his belt loop if it looked like he was about to tumble from the car.

"Apgar... I think that's a driveway... Bellwood... Charlestown..."

Nanette turned right onto Charleston. The yellow glow from the lone streetlamp fell away, the headlights illuminating a single swatch of white light in front of them. All was silent but for the frantic squeak of the windshield wipers and the hum of the engine.

House lights appeared through the whitish haze on either side of them. Nanette slowed.

"Do you see any cops?"

Owen had his face pressed to the window. "Which one is his?"

"That one, I think. Can you see the mailbox numbers?"

"Stop, stop! What are you doing?!"

"I'm not gonna stop here, my dad'll kill me if he sees we came out here tonight." Her father had begun calling her the moment after she'd sent her text: I think Alfie is going to kill himself. Miles Filby's house. She'd turned her phone off to avoid his calls, but she was reasonably certain he wouldn't ignore her. She hoped he wouldn't, anyway.

Nanette drove for another minute before pulling alongside the edge of the street and killing the engine. This was a bad idea. They should not have come. They needed to come. A life was in the balance. Her thoughts bounced like a ping pong ball.

She opened her mouth to tell Owen she would walk back to the mobile home alone, that he should wait for her there, but Owen was already pushing the door open and jumping into the ankle-deep snow outside.

"Owen!"

She grabbed her cell phone from the center console and leapt from the vehicle in time to see the other teen vanish into the darkness, then re-emerge in the glow of a nearby porch light a moment later. She paused, her breath emerging as white puffs before her.

"Owen!" she hissed, but the only response was the absence of sound as snow fell around her. The silence weighed on her eardrums.

She began to chase after him, a shuffling, slow motion game of cat-and-mouse that would have been comical to an outsider.

She caught up with the teen in front of Miles Filby's house and leaned over, hands on her knees. They stood in the street for a few moments, just looking. It was a tiny, shabby excuse for a home. Despite the snow, it was obvious it desperately needed a fresh coat of paint. Nanette remembered the yard had been crowded with junk the last time she'd driven past with her dad, but at the moment, the only evidence of the rusted bicycles and broken toys were soft mounds of snow.

Owen began to move towards the front walkway, where the snow was tamped down with footprints.

"Wait," Nanette said.

"We gotta see if he's in there."

Nanette looked around for any sign of the police, but all was quiet.

"Let me go first," she said. "Stay here."

She reached the front door and tried to peer inside.

"It's open," Owen whispered right behind her, causing Nanette to startle.

She realized Owen was right; the front door was open, leaving a two-inch gap of darkness.

"Let's go back," she whispered.

Owen reached around her and pushed on the door. It creaked open effortlessly.

They both stood there, staring into the dark house, their breaths foggy white puffs in front of them.

The sharp, earsplitting crack of a gunshot broke the silence.