Madison Miller’s body had been buried in a semideserted stretch of woods one town over from where she went missing. Heavy rains had recently hit the area, washing away some of the soil. The dog happened to be a hound; the owner happened to let him off the leash at just the right place. Right place, right time, you could say.

Now her picture was in the paper again. Now there were more articles. No known motive, said the articles. Authorities were seeking information. Madison Miller had died from asphyxiation. There were marks around her neck that suggested a thin piece of wire.

Sherri left the paper open to the article. When Bobby came down for breakfast she said, “Look at this. They found that girl.”

“What girl?” Bobby asked. If he had anything to give away, he didn’t give it to her.

“The one who’s been missing. Remember?” She held the paper in front of him. “The one who was all over the news a couple of weeks ago. Madison Miller.”

“Poor kid,” he said. He met her eyes directly.

“What do you think happened?” Sherri asked. She felt like she was poking a bear but she couldn’t help herself.

He was fresh out of the shower; he smelled like aftershave and shampoo. He whistled when he opened the refrigerator. He whistled. “Must have been in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he said. “Terrible.” He shook his head and sounded regretful, like a teacher delivering a disappointing grade to a student.

Sherri remembered those words from the night she’d stood outside the office with the cheese tray, and she knew that the thing she’d feared was true. Her own husband, the man she’d slept with and vacationed alongside and cooked eggs for so many mornings—the man she’d made a child with—could say words that were so nonchalant, so unconcerned, while Madison Miller lay in a coffin.

Bobby kissed Sherri on the mouth, hard, and for the first time his lips felt like icicles. Then he picked up his car keys and left.

The next day there was an obituary. Sherri read it through six times. Madison Miller was a member of the National Honor Society and the Environmental Sustainability Club. She was a straight-A student; she wanted to be a doctor. She had three brothers, and a dog she loved, a King Charles cavalier spaniel named Betty. In lieu of flowers mourners were asked to give in Madison’s honor to the Make-A-Wish foundation, Madison’s favorite charity.

Sherri went to the bathroom and threw up her breakfast. Then she anonymously donated five thousand dollars to the Make-A-Wish foundation in Madison’s name. She dared Bobby to notice.

He didn’t.