“It’s the only good news from the day. We had a report of a body in Gannon Lake, you know.”

“You’re kidding me. Who was it?”

“Have you been reading the story in the Record?”

“I skimmed it.”

She pushed the bone along the surface. The dark sauce bloomed off it and stained the water pink. “They find a headless body in the story.”

“You found a headless body in the lake?”

“Not quite. A headless mannequin. She was missing her hands and feet, too.”

“That’s a bit of a strange coincidence,” he said. She heard the washcloth dip into the water behind her.

“There’s more.”

“Are you supposed to be telling me this?”

“There was a web address on the mannequin, if you can believe that. We went to the site and there’s some kind of feed, you know, like a video feed from somewhere. A room. Looks empty, but then you see a sliver of a person. Sitting in a chair. He seems to be staring at the camera.”

“That’s creepy.”

“As fuck,” she said. “What does it sound like to you?”

“Uhh,” he said, “a riddle wrapped in an enigma?”

“You’re a puzzle fan, Andrew. Does it make you think of anything?”

“It makes me think you should get some computer expert in and figure out where the upload is coming from.”

“Thanks, Sherlock.”

“Is there anyone in town missing a mannequin?” The cloth paused at her lower back. He’d seen the stitches below the waterline. “Goddamnit.”

“You thought I was faking?”

“No… but. I’m not going to touch it.”

“The skin doesn’t hurt, Andrew. It hurts inside.”

“Jesus,” he said quietly. “They really opened you up.” She felt the cloth move in a slow circle above her stitches. She pictured pulses of energy coming through the cloth from his hand and passing deep into her spine. Cleansing and healing her. She closed her eyes. His hand moved slowly along her lower back.

“Ah,” said Glynnis from behind them. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”

Andrew dropped the cloth into the water and reached for the towel on the rack to dry his hands. Hazel turned to look at Glynnis leaning against the doorframe.

“She got herself into the bath,” he said. “We ended up talking.”

“I can see that. You want me to take over?” “I’m fine,” he said.

“I’m not a wayward pet,” said Hazel. “I can handle myself.” She tried to lever herself out of the water and failed.

Andrew was unhurriedly arranging the dinner things back on the tray. He held it out to Glynnis. “I’ll be back up in ten minutes.”

Glynnis took the tray. Hazel couldn’t tell if she was furious or uninterested in the scene she’d come upon. “Are we all going to have a fight now?” she asked.

“Is that what you want?” said Glynnis.

“I’m just asking.”

“Why would I be upset to see that my husband has the capacity to care for another human being? Even one who broke his heart?”

Andrew had stood. “Just go on back up, love.”

“There’s tea,” said Glynnis, and she turned with the tray and left.

Hazel had managed herself to a bent-over standing position. She was staring at the place where the spectre of Andrew’s wife had appeared. “Jesus,” she said. “She’s either amazing or terrifying.”

Andrew draped a large blue towel over her shoulders and put his hand under her elbow. She accepted his aid, putting her weight on him as she stepped out of the tub. The hot water had loosened things considerably, almost as well as the painkillers did. “She can be both,” he said, leading her out of the bathroom. They slowly crossed the room and she sat on the bed. “Where are your night things?”

She pointed at the dresser that doubled as a sidetable. She watched him go through her things, his touch light, and she could feel his hand on her again. “Did I break your heart, Andrew?” He laid her warmest things on the bed. “I thought it was my heart that was broken. Maybe she’s confusing us.” He didn’t say anything and she reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Did I?”

He looked down to where her fingers had encircled him. She saw him mark her naked wedding-ring finger. Had he never noticed the ring was gone? Why would she still be wearing it? “Yes,” he said. “Of course you did.” He loosed himself from her hand and ran his palm absently against his chest.

The body hung in the water like a closed fist. Dale held on to the railing, his fingers cold on the metal, and listened to himself breathing. His son was sitting on the cooler behind him, his head in his hands. Gus had thrown up three times after they realized what they’d found in the water. Some bonding experience, Dale thought. This lake was poisoned forever for them now.

He’d secured the body to the side of the boat by tying a rope to the ankle. To do this, he’d had to dangle over the side of the boat with Gus gripping his own legs in trembling arms. Dale knew nothing about bodies, but he knew they decomposed after death, fell apart, and this body was still, despite its missing head, intact. But the water was cold, and maybe that had helped to preserve it. When his fingertips brushed up against the bottom of the corpse’s foot, it had been as if a wave of electricity shot through him. He thought he’d light up like a fluorescent tube.

“Okay,” he said, sitting against the gunwale and panting for breath as his son puked onto the deck beside him. He laid the hand that hadn’t touched the body against Gus’s back. He felt like the other hand would never be clean again. He had the urge to cut it off and throw it away so it could not reproach him with what it knew. “It’s okay. We’ll calm down and we’ll call the police.”

“Aw Jesus. Jesus Christ,” sobbed Gus. He threw up again. “Who would do such a thing?”

“It’s not our job to figure it out,” said Dale, his hand moving in slow circles against his son’s back. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

He helped Gus to his feet and sat him gingerly on the cooler. He took out his cell and saw he could still get a faint signal on it. He dialled a number and spoke to someone, keeping one eye on Gus to make sure the kid didn’t faint. He folded the cell and put it back into his pocket. “Someone’ll be here soon,” he said. “We just have to keep it together until then.”

Gus nodded, his eyes locked to the decking. Dale stood against the railing, looking out over the water and trying not to look down at what was secured against the hull, that sad, wrecked form.

A half-hour later, the two of them hadn’t moved from their positions, both of them lost in their thoughts. The sun was pouring down its light from a sharp angle, and Dale had to pull his cap down over his forehead to keep his eyes from watering. He heard the boat first before he saw it, and then, coming around the point of one of the larger islands, it turned on a direct heading toward them. Gus stood up. “Jesus, that felt like it took two hours.”

Dale dug in his jacket pocket and pulled out his car keys. “Listen to me, Gus. You can get the boat back to the dock, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to go with this guy, okay? Answer some questions if they need me to. There’s no reason for you to get mixed up in this.”

“I’m not leaving you, Dad.”

“And then you get in the car and go home and you tell your mother I went to the Super C to get lemons, okay? I’ll be home after lunch.”

The approaching boat had cut its motor and the driver was angling the wheel to pull up sideways against them. The boat moved in a slow, unnatural skid toward them. The man in the boat wasn’t in uniform. “What’s going on, Dad?”

Dale took his son by the shoulders. “I want you to trust me. Tell me you trust me.”

“I do.”

“Can you get the boat back and then get home?” Gus was looking over his shoulder at the man standing in the other boat. Dale put his hand under his son’s chin and tenderly brought his attention back to him. “Gus?”