last year and which the police didn’t take away from her. It says1:42. She started everything at 9:36. That was when she started tofill the bathtub. She counts back, does the math.Just over four hours. What started as her own private littleparadox is already a public circus, and this disembodied voicecoming through dashboard waves is
talking about me and he doesn’teven know me
...“They’re taking her into custody now but I think we should skipany trial and just string the bitch up by her knockers, hey hey what do you say?...” Someone else, not the DJ, laughs.It was a rock station and they shouldn’t be talking at all,especially not about that. They should be playing music. The cop’seyes in the rear-view mirror bounce back at her and she wonders ifhe’s smiling.
? She thinks.
Three! Two of them weren’t even children
...But whatever little sane part of her is left deep down doesn’tlike that and wakes up and starts screaming at her. She starts tocry. Just a little.The cop looks at her. He clicks the radio off and makes a rightturn.“Hear that? You’re a celebrity now.” And he chuckles and sheknows he’s smiling.
The third cop, the young one, comes out of the bedroom and lookslike he wants to be sick.He looks at her quickly and looks away, his eyes wide andfalling like stars. His mouth twists a little and he hurriesoutside.The other one, the older one, sits across from her. Staring at