“It was so cold, Nigel, he was suffering… I just wanted to help him.” She was trembling so hard her teeth knocked together. Nigel took a step away from her. “There was trash everywhere. I had to crawl to reach him—”

“Winnie… Winnie…” he said, breathless, interrupting her. “Is he dead? Is the baby dead?”

Her howls came from somewhere deep in her belly, raw and ugly, answering his question. Nigel grabbed his wife, pressed her face into his chest so that she would stop screaming.

“The car. It skidded on black ice. I had him in my sweatshirt.” She held a fist to the spot; she could still feel his heat against her, his tiny vulnerable body cradled to her chest. “I thought I could keep him warm that way. I was taking him to the hospital. The car skidded… I hit the barrier.” She raised three fingers to her hairline where her forehead had hit the steering wheel. There was blood, but only a trickle. “I think he died on impact, or I smothered him!” Her voice was hysterical.

Nigel grabbed her face, pinched it between his fingers and studied her with wild eyes.

“He’s dead. Oh my God!” She tore at her face, her nails ripping, but she could barely feel it.

“Winnie!” He shook her hard so that her head snapped back. “Did anyone see you take him?”

She shook her head, lips pressed together. “No, Jos—she was alone.”

“And the accident…?” His fingers bit into the flesh of her arms and she yelped.

“No one saw,” she sobbed. “You’re hurting me.”

“How do you know?” She could hear her teeth crack together as he rattled her like a doll.

“It was snowing! There was no one on the road.” She drew back, trying to pull herself from his hold, but he wouldn’t let go. “The car was still on so I drove home.”

“Where is it? Where is the body?”

“In the car.” She reached for his face and he pulled back, disgusted. “You have to bury him. She gave birth to him in a tent. She was a drug addict!” She screamed this last part into his face, spit landing on his cheek. He stared at her in disbelief.

“And that makes what you did okay? Fuck!” He pulled at his hair, shaking his head. “It’s not for us to decide. We have to go the proper route, tell the authorities…”

She could feel how labored his breathing was, could hear the thumping of his heart. Nigel was scared.

“No! Nigel, no. They’ll arrest me… I’ll lose my job. We can’t—please.”

Winnie clawed at his chest in panic. She never thought, not in a million years, that he would suggest turning herself in. She imagined herself in prison and let out a wail. Nigel grabbed her wrists, held them. She flailed, wanting to get away, but also wanting to be held until her hysteria passed.