“I found him,” Annie told the woman, who identified herself as Officer Standish. Annie opened the back door of the SUV and carried out Charlie, who was groggy but awake. “I’m sorry.”

“Not at all, ma’am,” Standish said. “Where was he?” she asked.

“Just up the road,” Annie said. “By the train crossing.”

Should I tell her? Annie thought. Should I tell her what I saw?

“How’d your boy get all the way up there?”

Still holding Charlie in her arms, she said, “Just walked. He’s had some issues with sleepwalking.”

Standish said, “If he’s got a history of that, you need to make sure he can’t wander out of the house at night.” She lowered her voice, as if that would keep Charlie from hearing what she had to say. “This isn’t a busy road, but there’s still traffic. No telling what could have happened.”

Tell me something I don’t know, Annie said. She could feel the judgment.

“Of course,” she said.

“Just the two of you here?” the cop asked.

“Yes. We’ve taken the house for the summer.”

“Where do you live?”

“In the city.”

“Albany? Binghamton?”

“New York.”

Standish gave her a look, wrote something down in her notepad. She said she had a few more questions.

“Do you mind if I take Charlie in first?” Not only did she want him back in bed, she didn’t think she could hold him much longer.

The cop was agreeable.

She carried Charlie up the stairs, taking him first into the bathroom to wipe the soles of his feet clean with a wet washcloth, then gently placed him him in his bed. He was like a rag doll, letting her do whatever needed to be done. As he laid his head on the pillow, his eyes opened and he smiled.

“You okay?” Annie asked him, and he managed a nod. “Charlie, do you remember anything of how you got to where I found you?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I remember going to bed, and then I was on the road with you.”

She wasn’t sure she could ask, but felt she had no choice. “What did you see when you woke up?”

“I saw you,” he said.

“Did you see anything else?”

“Like what?”

“Just . . . anything?”

His head moved back and forth across the pillow.

“Okay,” she said, leaning down, kissing his forehead, and pulling the covers up to his chin. She slipped out of the room and closed the door.

She stood a moment at the top of the stairs. She had an answer to that question she was asking herself moments earlier, about whether she would tell the officer what she had seen.

No fucking way.