Big peanut butter.

“You already called it that.”

The dryer chimed, packed into a closet with the washer, but Yaya didn’t throw on her laundered lavender suit yet. She needed more open air time in Doc’s borrowed underwear, Doc’s silky robe, more lounging. The stones weighed on body and mind alike. Yaya didn’t even climb up from Doc’s chair when, mid channel flipping, she spotted her face on the news.

“—in the brutal murder of a west Newark resident,” the voiceover said. The photo came from Yaya’s state ID. She looked as miserable as anyone who’d spent four hours waiting at the DMV. “Police are searching for this woman, 31-year-old Yolanda Betancourt. Neighbors and authorities report having seen her trespassing on the victim’s property shortly before the murder scene’s discovery.”

Discovery, AKA taking days to get a warrant. Yaya could’ve ground the body into chum and chucked it into the Hudson, food for polluted fish, before the cops returned.

“Reports from AlphaBeta Pharmaceutical state that Betancourt is being sought for questioning and possible biohazardous material theft.”

Yaya flipped the channel again in search of cartoons. Enough real violence; she wanted wooden mallets and falling pianos that played “Mary Had a Little Lamb” or “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” when the keys popped out of their victim’s mouth.

The cops were searching. Somehow, they knew. Not like she had cleaned Bryant’s house, but without an arrest record, her fingerprints shouldn’t have pinged any database. Of course, cops didn’t pull these strings. ABP kept every minute detail of Yaya’s existence on file, and because they owned a stake in her

body, they could share all they pleased.

Had the cops put out an all-points bulletin at the direction of AlphaBeta Pharmaceutical? An ABP from ABP. Yaya began to snicker, and each time she ran it through her mind, she laughed again. For the first time in her life, everyone wanted to find her. Everyone cared. They wouldn’t look to her when she used to scream, but now that she was the cause for screaming, suddenly everyone gave a damn.

Voices drifted down the hall outside Doc’s apartment door. Doc was back, and she wasn’t alone.

Yaya’s grin stretched, and Magenta squirmed. Big peanut butter.

Which meant they should ditch the old jar. Yaya charged into the bathroom. She’d been dreading this part since she and Magenta first cracked Bryant’s skull open, but relief came immediately after, so she’d stopped caring until now. She couldn’t help thinking of days ago when the puddle of bird bones had dropped from inside her body. Doc must have taken out the trash before the remains began to smell. Yaya would have to hope for the same this time.

“Let him go,” Yaya said. “He’s gone.”

Big peanut butter, Magenta hummed. Tentacles writhed beneath folds of skin.

“It’s coming, but we have to drop—”

The door shut hard. Yaya should have done this earlier, but she hadn’t wanted to miss even a scrap of Bryant. He would’ve wanted the same.