Heavy ropes and rusted anchors sit on the boathouse floor. Life jackets and lanterns hang on heavy hooks, swinging when I close the door. Spiders. Worms in dirt jars. It’s all here, and more. But not Officer O’Malley. I look and look for him, even inside the wooden bench cluttered with more things. But they put him somewhere else. And I know where. Outside. Staring toward the boat. I start walking.

“Woo. Steady girl.” I walk the plank and then go onboard. Standing on deck, I look across Bend River. Black with moonlight sitting on it, it looks long and sad.

Walking around the deck. Passing a chair and life jackets, I make my way upstairs. Sitting at the captain’s chair, working the steering wheel, I look at all the lights across the river. But I need to find a good place to disappear. So it’s not long before I’m heading down below.

I sit on the bed, bouncing at first. Next I’m in the bathroom, turning on the faucet at the bathroom sink. Opening a door, I step into the closet. It’s small, but it will make a good place to hide. But what if I lock myself in? I try to slide underneath the bed next. I fit. But it’s not just me here. There are fishing rods and a tackle box. Life jackets and old shoes. I come out from underneath the bed and wait some time. Until I hear footsteps. Then my eyes jump from the closet to the bed, to the closet again. Diving under the bed, I bump my head hard. “Ouch! Oooh.”

“Octobia May? Come out!”

It’s Jonah. He tells me how he got away from his parents. His father was very tired. He couldn’t drive one more block. So while his dad and his mom were asleep by the side of the road, he came back to me. “Mr. Davenport will be here soon,” he tells me. He heard the two men talking outside behind the house.

I give him a choice. He can have the closet or hide under the bed. He might have to capture them as soon as they get onboard, he says, so I should leave the bed for him. Like pajamas and dress shoes, I get put in the closet. “Here.” I hand Jonah his Satchel Paige baseball card. “For luck.”

“Thanks. I been missing him.” Using a matchbook to keep the latch from locking, he encourages me to be brave.

I talk to him from the vent in the door. “Where are you, Jonah?”

“Under the bed.”

“I think I hear —”

“Quiet, Octobia May. They coming. Now don’t be scared. Okay?”

“I was dead before, remember, Jonah?”

Jonah does not answer me. He is doing like I’m doing, I guess, trying not to be discovered.

“Hold him, Albert. He’s strong still. O’Malley. Do not give us one more moment’s trouble, or I may pitch you overboard right now.”

It’s Mr. Davenport. Out of breath, he warns Officer O’Malley again. “So you want to fight. Even with your arms tied.” I hear a punch. Someone stumbles and trips down the stairs.

Mr. Davenport calls to Mr. Harrison, asking if he can handle things upstairs for a minute. “Every second counts.”

Officer O’Malley arms are tied. When the boat starts, it jerks forward, knocking my head against the door. The chill from the night air fills up the cabin after a while. The rock of the boat. The twists and turns. Sends food into my throat. Swallowing. Frowning. Holding my mouth, I wonder if more is on the way.

It’s Officer O’Malley who loses his supper, just when Mr. Davenport pulls the sock out of his mouth.

“A cop who can’t keep his food down!” He hits him. “Do you understand how much I pay for my things?” He pushes Officer O’Malley facedown onto the bed, and stands, wiping his shoes. “Italian. Made by hand. Ruined.” He bangs his fist on the closet door. “I think you threw up on me intentionally.” Mr. Davenport stuffs the rag in his mouth again.

The boat engine slows down and then speeds up again. Officer O’Malley curls up on the bed. Mr. Davenport never takes his eyes off him, even while he soaps his hands. And wipes off his shoes again. Double-checking the ropes around Officer O’Malley’s hands, he calms down and talks to him like it is any ordinary day. Does he have any children? he asks. Did he grow up always wanting to be an officer of the law? “Oh.” He laughs. “Let’s take that out.”

Officer O’Malley coughs and rolls until he’s sitting up. “I should have believed the child. She knew a murdering scoundrel when she saw one.”

Lifting up and out of the water. Dropping down again. The boat cuts through Bend River, smacking the water over and over, more times than I can count. Mr. Davenport stops talking. After a long while I can hear a train whistle blow. The wheels clicking on the track comfort me some. Because I think I know where we are. Near Fifth and Canary, the train rides the river close, as the vegetable wagons and streetcars do.

Holding on to a clothes rack, I steady myself. Pinching my nose so I can keep the smell out. It’s sulfur. From the steel mill outside of town. We must be passing it. Leaving the city now. I look at Officer O’Malley. Sitting on the bed. Nursing a black eye. Tied up. Only Jonah and I can help him now.