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“I haven’t known you long enough to make that call,” Annie said, an edge to her voice. “My son and I took that house for the summer because we needed to get away, to get our lives back together. Because we’ve been through some bad shit in the last year, and the suggestion that our place already has ghosts and goblins as tenants, well, that’s not helpful.”

“The boy who jumped,” Daniel said.

The world seemed to stop. Annie stared at him, openmouthed. “What did you say?”

“You told me about your husband, that he’d passed. But there was the boy who thought he could fly. I may look like someone who hasn’t moved on since the eight-track tape, but I’m actually hooked up to theInterweb.” He stressed the last word to make sure she knew he was having her on. “Your name kinda rang a bell and I googled you and I know about the boy. That’s a horrible thing.”

“It’s no business of yours.”

“Believe me when I say I mean no offense. What happened to you, that’s out in the public. I didn’t pry. And I’m very sorry for what you’ve been through. I’m not going to repeat what I am guessing a hundred people have already told you about blame and responsibility. What I will say is that I think we can all be captive to events that are out of our control.”

Annie was still too angry to say anything.

“I want to ask you about that train you said you heard in the night.”

“What?”

“I said you must have heard something else, because there’s no trains running around here anymore. The A&B went bankrupt. Iknow the crossing’s just up the road there, they still got the signs up, but there’s nothing that passes through.”

“So I heard something else, then. Or I was dreaming.”

“I don’t think you were dreaming.”

Annie took a breath. She’d grown weary of this discussion. She was sorry she’d brought the beers over. She wanted to get up and go back to her place. She took a final swallow of her drink—the bottle was only half empty—and stood.

“I really should get back to Charlie,” she said.

“Did you not hear what I said? I don’t think you were dreaming.”

“Okay, so I heard a truck, or something. What does it matter?”

Daniel set his beer down on the step and struggled to his feet, putting his hands on his knees for leverage.

“I believe you heard it. I believe you heard a train, even though there’s no train to be heard.”

Annie didn’t know what he was driving at.

And then he said, “Because Dolores heard it, too.” He paused. “Last few days, I think even I’m hearing something.”

Twenty-Five

While Annie sketched out more versions of Penn Station Man, trying to put the unsettling conversation with Daniel out of her mind, Charlie worked on perfecting his model train village. The loop of track remained static, but what he placed within it changed. He would reposition the buildings on his main street, stand back and look at them like a sculptor, folding his arms and placing one hand to his chin, assessing his creation from afar. Charlie would find some flaw that only he could see, go back, and make some minor adjustment.

Annie watched all this with interest, and without comment. Let him do his thing, she thought.

At one point, he approached her, wanting to borrow a marker and a strip of the masking tape she used to secure her paper to the table. She slid a blank sheet of paper over her work-in-progress.

“What’s the tape for?” Annie asked.

“I have to make signs,” he said.

With scissors, he cut the tape into short, neat strips and then labeled them.flower shop. diner. fire department. (On that one, the strip of tape he’d cut was too short and the letters in the last half ofdepartmenthad to be squished together.) He made up several more labels and affixed them to the front of his buildings.

Annie had only one suggestion: “You should have a train store.”

Charlie perked his head up. He’d run out of tape, and there was one building left that did not have a sign.

“May I make it for you?” Annie asked.