Every Second

22

New York City

“It’s always something in this town.”

Kate couldn’t tell if her taxicab driver-Nazir, according to the license displayed over the back of the front seat-was complaining to her or himself.

The cab had come to a gently sloping segment of the Long Island Expressway where westbound traffic had slowed near the Midtown Tunnel.

“See?” Exasperated, Nazir lifted his hands from the wheel. “It’s backed up more than normal. It’s always something.”

Kate looked out at the apartment buildings, warehouses, factories and billboards. Taking stock of the Empire State and Manhattan’s skyline rising above the clogged lanes, Kate surmised that the delay might be linked to the robbery and hostage situation.

They must’ve issued lookouts, maybe set up a dragnet at toll plazas and bridges by now.

As Kate’s mind raced with thoughts of Lori, Billy, Dan and the horror they must be experiencing, she looked at the screen of her phone, at the image of Grace and Vanessa.

They’d faced terrible events, too, but they’d prevailed.

Kate traced her finger lightly over Grace’s and Vanessa’s smiles. At this very moment, Grace would be at school, happy and playing with her friends. Vanessa would be working at the diner, rebuilding her life, getting stronger every day.

Both of them were safe.

Kate then called up the pictures she’d taken of Dan Fulton’s bank in Roseoak.

What happened? Who forced Dan to rob his own bank?

Kate tapped her screen, scrolling to photos of the Fultons’ house on Forest Trail Drive.

What went on in that home? Who would strap a bomb on a nine-year-old boy?

Kate suddenly realized Billy Fulton was only one year older than her daughter, Grace, and her heart went out to their family once again.

When she lifted her head, the cab was approaching the toll plaza at the entrance to the Midtown Tunnel. Emergency lights flashed on the NYPD patrol cars that lined the shoulders. Uniformed officers stood at the traffic cones leading to the toll gates, halting traffic, eyeballing each vehicle and driver.

Kate dropped her window and told her driver to slow down when they were next to one of the cops.

“Excuse me, Officer!” Kate called. “Is this related to the robbery situation in Roseoak, Queens?”

“Yes, do you have information?”

“No. I’m a reporter, just checking. Thanks.”

“Move it along.”

The cab rolled through the toll gate, the tunnel gleaming in brilliant orange-and-yellow light as it curved under the East River to Manhattan.

As traffic rushed along, Kate resumed thinking of the Fultons.

They’ve got to be somewhere in this city.