Beth loomed in the doorway. “Are you for real?”

Molly nodded into the quilt. She shook her head. She wanted to stop crying, but holding it in made the sobs bounce out erratically.

“Relax,” Beth said. “They’re not that innocent.”

“But your job,” Molly said. “And the dog.”

Beth paused, perhaps thinking of what James had said, wondering who the murderer was. There were only so many possibilities. Maybe, hopefully, Beth thought something worse had happened. But nothing was worse, not for Beth.

“Where’s Chowder?” Beth said.

It wasn’t fair to tell her this way, earning her pity first. Even though Molly didn’t like the dog taking up half the bed or his white hair on her black wardrobe or his steaming shit, the thin skin of plastic bag over her hand her only protection, or, most of all, how Beth hugged and fondled him instead of hugging and fondling Molly, now Beth was alone—stuck in Hurlbut with all these kids and no Chowder. What if Beth ended up not really gay, or what if the relationship grew too serious for Molly and she left? Or, most likely, what if Beth dumped her right now?

“He’s dead,” Molly said. She’d blown her load earlier, describing the incident to James with nuance and remorse. Now the plain truth was out, ugly and unwieldy. She sponged her tears with the corner of her flannel. Then she described what had happened.

Beth shook her head. She set her fingers on her temple and closed her eyes. When Molly was done, they went minutes without speaking, Beth raising a finger whenever Molly opened her mouth. After ages, Beth said, “Show me.”

“What do you mean?” Molly shuddered, flashing on Beth pulling the soggy corpse from the Charles.

Beth put on her boots, and Molly had no choice but to do so too. After the room of cake smoke, Prospect Street was like the top of a mountain, the atmosphere so thin you had to breathe fast to get enough. They took Bow Street to Memorial Drive and crossed to the river.

There were a couple pinpricks of light in the sky, probably airplanes and satellites but maybe planets. The ice on the river was lit white as though illuminated from below. Beth lowered her foot to the ice but Molly stopped her. “It’s dangerous.”

That was all Beth needed to hear, logical Beth. When her cheeks caught the glow of the river, they were wet. Molly reached out to hold her, but Beth shoved her away, lip tangled under her teeth, eyes hooded and fierce.