Running of the bulls

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

11:36 p.m.

When they left Roberta’s, they drove in silence. The safe house was on the Upper West Side, far and away from the orange glow they could see flickering above the East Side of Manhattan. Traffic was thick. They were barely moving.

Maggie was looking out the passenger-side window, obviously reeling from Roberta’s repeated insistence that she was going to kill him.

Did he believe it? No. Could he explain how Roberta had seen the fire and the people burning before it was announced that terrorists had attacked the Upper East Side with explosives? No. But he did know one thing-Maggie Cain was not a killer.

She was someone doing her best under difficult circumstances. She was alone and she was frightened. This was beyond what she’d expected. After her experiences with Wolfhagen, which literally disfigured her, she had difficulty trusting people for good reason.

Marty understood her now. She was the first to see a connection when the Coles died, and then presumably Andrews. Though she couldn’t be sure about it, she hired him to watch Wolfhagen, likely thinking he was somehow behind it. But now that Mark Andrews might be alive, they had to at least scope the safe house and see if it was true.

He called Roz again at the FBI and had yet to hear from her.

He called Hines, but since the explosions had yet to reach him.

He reached out and squeezed Maggie’s hand, which she squeezed back. He tried to call Jennifer again but it still was a rapid busy signal.

His mind went through a mental check list. Gloria was safe. His daughters were safe. But right now, he knew he was on the cusp of something that was either going to lead to more answers and a better direction, or possible death if they entered the safe house and it wasn’t Andrews.

His cell phone rang.

Startled, each looked at it in his palm. “It’s Roberta,” Marty said.

He answered it. “Was she on the news?”

She wasn’t. “It was another woman,” Roberta said. “She interviewed a few police officers, but no one by the name of Hines or Patterson.”

“Did you see her anywhere in the background? Maybe she was making the rounds for a larger story. She’s their top reporter. Did you see-”

Roberta interrupted him. “There’s no best way to tell you this.”

A car rushed past them, horn blaring. He wasn’t focusing. He righted the car and slowed for the red light ahead of them. “Tell me what?” he said.

“She’s missing. You haven’t seen the images I’ve seen. That woman reporter went on air and the last thing she said was that the Channel One family also was affected. They mentioned Jennifer. They’re searching for her, but they can’t find her. When the buildings let go, they lost her. They said there’s too much rubble. Too much chaos. I’m so sorry. They’ve put out an alert that if anyone does see her to please contact the station immediately.”