I went back into the pantry and put down the plates and held onto the counter for a moment.

And then, at about 6:35, I heard the stairwell doors and I heard my husband’s voice on the landing, and it was not on its own.

Part Seven: The Boy on the Landing

There were three of them.

Logan, in the gray jacket I had bought him for his fortieth.

A woman I had never seen — dark-haired, maybe thirty-three, in a green dress, holding a gift bag and looking like somebody who did not want to be there.

And a boy.