She was at the city limits, heading toward her mother’s house, when she pulled the little car over to the side of the road, clambered out, and went down a gentle slope to the shores of a pond to wash the blood off. There was a lot of it, and she had to scrub, using grass and weeds yanked out of the ground to slough away what had dried on her skin. She was finally clean, wet and cold, too, and opened up the girl’s purse to look for a comb or a brush, anything to help her look less like a drowned rat, and she instead found the girl’s wallet. Inside was her state ID and a bank card. A few dollars in cash. Marie, that had been the girl’s name, and so now she was Marie, too.