My body rocked itself back and forth. Words spilled out of my mouth, breathy and urgent. “But you didn’t. I hear him. I’m so glad. I’m so grateful. You didn’t, and I hope you won’t. I love him so much, and you don’t have any reason to hate me. Please, please don’t.”

“Ch-ch-ch.” It was the noise she’d made to soothe Robert. She was making it for me now. She swallowed and started to speak, then paused. I waited. She started again. She was full of a strange need. I could feel her wanting to talk. I could feel her wanting to talk to me particularly.

“Here’s the thing,” she said, and then stopped again. I waited. When she finally spoke, her words came very fast. She was almost defensive. “I read, like in my mystery novels and such, that it gets easier. I like suspense-type movies, too, and I’ve heard the same thing there. They all say it. You kill a person and it’s hard, but then, you know, you get a callus. It builds up. Easier every time, they say.” I heard Robert sighing as she shifted him. “I’m not finding that to be true.”

I was nodding. As if she could see me. I understood her, and an awful, cold acceptance descended upon me. I made myself be so calm. She wasn’t talking about killing Spence. He hardly counted. That hadn’t been hands-on. That wasn’t even mostly her. I’d done the dirty parts, and then I’d watched him die while she was far away, holding my son.

She meant she’d killed someone else.

“Was it a baby?” I sounded so flat and nonjudgmental that it shocked me. I wasn’t sure what kind of character I was playing now. Not Betsy. Maybe a priest, behind a screen, hearing confession. Or a machine, heartless and hollow, taking data. “That might make a difference.”

Marshall and Gabrielle understood her now as well. Gabrielle’s whole face had disappeared behind her splayed hands. “He was older, but I’d still say a baby. He had a little blue backpack in his stroller when I took him. It said ‘Gee-Off’ on it in these fat bubble-cloth letters. Isn’t that the dumbest thing you ever heard of? A backpack for a baby. But they had stupid amounts of money, so they spent it stupid.”

I was rocking, a slow, soothing movement. Gabrielle left the room. I thought because she could not stay silent. I wanted to go with her, lie on my bed and press my face into a pillow that smelled like my husband. I wanted to scream and cry and kick.