She was, in effect, putting the ball in their court. They would know whom to reach out to about making the necessary arrangements. Someone else could take the lead here. Annie felt guilty, not volunteering to be that person. Finnegan was a good friend. He’d discovered her, launched her, and she owed so much of her success to him. But he had always been a very private person, telling her very little about himself, and, while Annie felt that was probably not a sufficient excuse not to get involved, she simply was not up to it.

It didn’t take long before she received responses to her group email. Texts, emails, and a call from the publisher herself, Finnegan’s superior. “We’ve got this,” she said. “You do what you have to do. We’ll handle it.”

Finnegan had a brother outside of Boston, she told Annie, and she had already been in touch with him. If he had any further questions, he was to get in touch with the local authorities, not Annie. The keys to his Boxster could be left with them; the brother would figure out what to do with it, how to get it back to the city or Boston or wherever.

“Thank you,” Annie said.

And, while Annie was glad to be relieved of those responsibilities, she was still feeling traumatized, and worried Charlie was as well. After all, he’d found Finnegan. Later that evening, she sat down with him in the living room, the TV on in the background but the sound off.

“How you doing?” she asked, sidling up next to him on the couch and slipping her arm around him.

“I’m okay,” he said.

“I’m really sorry about what you went through.”

“I’ve never seen a dead person before,” he said. “Except on TV. I’ve seen lots of dead people on TV.”

“But it’s not the same.”

“One’s pretend,” Charlie said. “And one’s real.”

“Yeah. You have any questions? You want to talk about it?”

Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You must be wondering how it happened.”

“Not really,” Charlie said.

That gave Annie pause. “Nobody can figure out how it happened.”

“He must’ve tripped,” he said, like it was simple.

“Well, yeah, he did, but how he tripped is kind of hard to figure out.”

“Sometimes people just trip.”

“That’s true. I just want to be sure you’re okay. I’m worried you might have bad dreams or something.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Why don’t you bunk in with me tonight.”

“I’m not a baby.”

Annie wasn’t sure whether to feel hurt or relieved. But if her son was strong enough to deal with this, well, that was a good thing, wasn’t it? And considering what he’d already been through in the past year, maybe he was tougher than she gave him credit for.

“If you change your mind, that’s okay.”