“Easy,” he told her. “It’s going to be okay.”

Nora, sensing alarm in the air, scampered around them in a circle. She barked twice and then prodded Keegan’s ankles with her nose.

Still holding Eve’s shoulders, Keegan pushed her towards the kitchen. Nora scampered underfoot, threatening to trip him. “This way,” he told Eve. “Come on. It’s okay. You can do this.”

Eve’s gait was unsteady, like a cruise ship passenger on rolling seas. He slid his forearm under her arm to steady her. He steered her to the kitchen counter, and she slumped forward against it, propped on her elbows. He rummaged in the cupboard under the sink and found a can of Comet. That would be abrasive enough to do the job. He ran the faucet until the water got hot and then physically moved Eve in front of the sink to scrub her hands of gunpowder.

She tried to pull away from the hot running water, but Keegan held her wrists firmly.

“It’s not that hot,” he told her, though steam was beginning to coat the bottom half of the kitchen window. “We need to scrub you down,” he said. “We’re not taking any chances.”

“What?” she said. “Why?” But she didn’t resist him. She leaned against him drunkenly while the water coursed through her fingers.

He gently scrubbed her hand and wrist. When her right hand looked pink and raw, he went to work on the other. Her fingers were slim and pale, and the scarlet, glistening nail polish she wore made him think of Ormsby’s pool of blood. How many hours before they found him?

Eve rested her whole weight against him now, breathing softly. It made it difficult to finish scouring down her hands, but he pressed on.

He steadied her against the counter with his body and wiped his damp hands on his trouser legs, then he took her by the shoulders again and shook her awake. “How many pills did you take?” he asked her. And again: “How many pills?”

Eve sucked in a sudden breath. “Two,” she said.

“And how many are you supposed to take?”

“Just one,” she said. Her head drooped forward.

Again, he thought of Marilyn. Was that how it went? One pill, until that no longer worked? Then another and another? And then the coroner’s van and the headlines and all the speculation?

He pulled back the sleeve of Eve’s robe and scoured her right arm all the way up to her elbow. He scrubbed her other arm, too. He looked at the dim clock on the oven. It was just coming up on two o’clock. He turned off the faucet. The whole kitchen window was fogged over now.

He pulled a chair from the kitchen table, and Eve slumped down on it. She put her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands.