“He gets your life?” Carlita shook her head. “You have no life.”

Jacob was aroused by the memory of her writhing under him, panting and urgent then pushing him over to climb on top, then accepting him from behind, from the side, demanding, hungry, a wild thing that Renee could never be. Opening up parts of himself that he didn’t know existed. She had made him feel alive. She had made him want to kill.

Jacob smiled and took her by the wrist. “Get in the car.”

“The gas mileage sucks,” Joshua said. “And don’t drive drunk because the tag’s expired. You ain’t got enough money to bail yourself out of jail.”

“We’ll manage,” Jacob said. “We’ll get by on love, right, Carlita?”

“You’re both loco,” she said.

He pulled her to the doorway. Carlita slapped at his arm, eyes imploring Joshua to help her. She spat at Jacob, a wad of her saliva sticking to his pink cheek before beginning a slow crawl down his face. “Let me go, pig.”

“Just head on along,” Joshua said. “After a month or two, you won’t even know the difference. Jacob will never do it as good as me, but hey, you never noticed before.”

“Before?”

Jacob grinned. “Didn’t you wonder about that night?”

“Which night?”

Joshua hoisted his tall boy of Budweiser and showed the bobbing knot of his neck as he swallowed. “Ten years ago. When we first made the trade.”

Jacob dragged Carlita to the door, but her legs collapsed and she became dead weight. The mobile home shook with their struggle, teetering on its cinder block pillars. Renee’s voice came from outside, calling Jacob.

“Now for my part of the deal,” Joshua said. He rose from the couch, staggering, eyes bright and red. He tossed his Budweiser can into the corner of the living room, stirring a cockroach. His belch tainted the air as he pushed past Jacob and Carlita. “Here I am, honey,” he called.

Jacob wrapped his arms around Carlita and hauled her outside. She grabbed the door jamb, kicking her feet, but Jacob could hardly feel the blows against his shin. Her fingernails skreeched against the metalworks of the door, then he yanked her free.

Renee had reached the Chevy and leaned against it, catching her breath. Her hair was tangled, the knees of her pants torn and the bare skin stitched with blood and briars.

“Come on inside, honey,” Joshua said to her. “We got a lot to talk about.”

“Jacob?” She twisted her head in confusion.

“What?” Joshua said.

Jacob still loved her, in a strange way, and he almost regretted what he’d have to do. But she’d wanted to be a Wells, she’d signed up for the company plan, and she was worth two million dollars dead.

Sometimes that’s just the way it went. Sometimes you were worth more dead than alive.

Just ask Mattie.

Jacob dragged Carlita to the Chevy. She elbowed him in the side, and he fought an urge to slap her. That’s what Joshua would do, slap her silly and throw her down on the ground. He wasn’t Joshua. Not yet.

Renee grabbed him, trying to pull him away from Carlita. “Leave her alone.”

Jacob shrugged away from her grip and flung the driver’s-side door open. Held by only one arm, Carlita squirmed free and spun, spittle flying from her mouth, fists raised in front of her. Jacob closed on her, cornered her between the mobile home and the toolshed. He backed her toward the shed. She dodged to the left, but he tackled her and they wrestled on the ground.

“You stinking bastard,” Carlita said, her blows raining on his back with the sound like that of a dull drum.

“Jacob!” Renee called, but Joshua held her now. She writhed against him, much like she probably had when Joshua was planting the seed that became Mattie.

Enraged by the memory, Jacob picked up Carlita and shoved her into the toolshed, then slammed the door and snapped the hasp.

“Jake!” Renee screamed. “Help me.”

“Right here, babe,” Joshua said, laughing as he pinned her against the Chevy, obviously enjoying the contact as she squirmed beneath him.

“You’re crazy,” she said to him. “What have you done to Jacob?”

“I let him be himself,” Joshua said. “That’s something you never did.”

“How the hell do you know what I did or didn’t do?”

Joshua reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handheld tape recorder. He pressed a button and thumbed up the volume. The hiss of the tape drowned out the roar of the river below then came Jacob’s voice, compressed and flattened, but recognizable, eerily similar to the voice of the Rock Star Barbie.

“It’s the only way, honey,” Jacob said on the tape. “The fire will start downstairs. When the alarm goes off, I’ll get Mattie and we’ll meet you outside. That way no one will suspect anything.”

Jacob approached the Chevy and smiled as Renee’s voice came on the tape: “I’m worried, Jake.”

He mouthed the words that he’d said next, in sync with the tape. “A million dollars, honey.”

Joshua clicked the tape recorder off as Renee slumped in surrender. Carlita must have found something blunt and wooden, because she was hammering on the shed door, causing slivers of wood to fall from the planks. The wind had risen, and the air had gone cool with the dying of the day. The sun now touched the ridge, an obscene orange ball whose light smeared the clouds into stained rags and sent fingers of hellish flame across the homestead.

“You taped it,” Renee said to Jacob.

“You know how I feel about insurance.”

“Goddamn you, you taped it.”

“If we got caught, I wasn’t going to go down alone.”

Joshua slid the tape recorder into his shirt pocket. Though Renee had stopped struggling, he kept her pinned against the car’s fender. Or maybe he just enjoyed the heat of her body. “A Wells never fails.”

“And two Wells are better than one,” Jacob said.

“You’re insane,” Renee said between sobs. “Both of you.”

“Shit,” Joshua said. “I ain’t the one that killed my own kid for money.”

“Yes, you are,” Jacob said. “I never would have done that. But you would.”

“Hell, I started the fire, but you’re the one that fucked up. You were supposed to get her out of there.”

Jacob grinned, and the expression felt like a live snake across his face. “I tried. But maybe I didn’t try as hard as I could.”

Renee stared at him, then past him, eyes wide and blank. “Jakie. Oh, Jakie.”

“I couldn’t let her live,” Jacob said to Renee. “You can see that, can’t you?”

“Oh, Jesus, Jacob.”

Joshua spat. “What the hell, it was another million, right?”

“It’s all Christine’s fault. She died natural and it paid good. Mattie was just too healthy.”

Renee sagged and Joshua released her. She fell to her knees, sobs wracking her shoulders. She tried to speak, but the words became gasps. The sunset threw the migrant camp into a golden light, the color of Jacob’s memories. Of watching Carlita and Joshua through the window, of fantasizing that he was his younger brother, that he could trade his life for Joshua’s.

Only he couldn’t trade fifty-fifty. He was too deeply in debt.

“Two million for two kids,” Joshua said to Renee. “And two million for you. But I’m taking a down payment first. I got a feeling you ain’t had a real man in years.”

“What about the autopsy?” Jacob said.

“Shit. Semen got DNA, don’t it?”

“Well, we got the same DNA, so go for it.”

Renee looked at Jacob, wondering about the next breath and how it could possibly force itself from the sky and into her constricted, brick-hard lungs. She’d pushed him to this. She was the one that put value in material things. She wanted the Wells world, the power, the land, the respect. She’d wanted to be a Wells more than Jacob ever had.

Mattie, that was an accident. But Christine. . .

As if he could read her thoughts, Jacob said, “I didn’t kill Mattie for the money.”

He sat on the Chevy’s hood and lit a cigarette, then blew smoke into Joshua’s face. “I killed her because she was yours.”