They cut to a picture of Deputy Chief Bob Atwell, a man Jamie had spoken with at a department softball game last June. Bob was a clown at FDNY functions, routinely dumping watercoolers down the backs of co-workers and running the bases backwards when he'd hit a ball over the fence.
But now Atwell's eyes were grim, deeply set in an ashen face marked with weariness. “Right now, rescue crews are using search dogs to comb the mountain of debris.” He ran the back of his hand over his forehead. “We're making every attempt to locate anyone who survived the collapse of the buildings and get them out of there.”
A reporter stood up. “Has your department found anyone yet?”
“A few people.” Bob sighed and the muscles in his jaw flexed. “Not nearly the numbers we'd like to be finding at this point.”
The reporter was persistent. “How many men are missing?”
“Well …” Bob pursed his lips and let his gaze fall to the ground for a moment before looking up again. “I can't give you a specific number, but we'd estimate more than three hundred are missing.”
“Were they all in the buildings at the time of the collapse?”
Bob sucked in a breath, and Jamie wanted to hug him. The man was kind and patient, but these questions had to be the hardest he'd ever had to answer.
“Most of them were in the south tower. It went first and with virtually no warning. The missing men were either in the tower or on the ground. A smaller number were in or near the north tower, as many of our people had time to evacuate that building in anticipation of a collapse.”
The image changed, and the screen was filled with a live shot of the burning Pentagon. Jamie lifted the remote and clicked off the TV. She couldn't stand to watch another minute. Bob Atwell's words had said it all, really. They'd only found a few firefighters. A few out of more than three hundred who'd gone into the buildings.
Jamie looked at Jake, and she was hit by a mix of emotions greater than anything she'd ever felt. Her husband was alive, and for that she was filled with a breathless relief and gratitude. But how would he take the news when he came to? If eight men from his company were missing, then there was a good chance they were dead. And what about Larry?
Visions of her husband's best friend flooded Jamie's mind. The times when they'd barbecued together or camped upstate. The jet-skiing trip they'd taken just a few days ago. Larry and Jake were inseparable, like brothers. If Larry was dead, how would Jake handle the fact? Would he blame himself for somehow not watching his friend's back better?
And how about Sue?
Jamie tightened the grip she had on Jake's fingers. What kind of friend was she if she didn't make the call? Without giving herself time to change her mind, Jamie picked up the phone on the table beside her and dialed “9” for an outside line. When she had it, she punched in the number for Sue and Larry.
An older woman answered on the second ring. “Hello?” The woman's voice was thick, as if she'd been crying.
“Hi, this is Jamie Bryan. Is Sue there?”
“Hi, Jamie. This is Larry's mother.”
“Oh … hi.” Jamie let her head fall into her hands. Of course. Larry's mother lived by herself in the Bronx and was constantly at Larry and Sue's house doting on Katy. The woman was probably as desperate about Larry's situation as Sue was. “Have … have you heard anything?”
“Someone from the department called.” There was a catch in the woman's voice, and she started to cry. “I'm sorry … I think I'm still in shock.”
“It's okay.” Tears stung Jamie's eyes too. “We're all in shock.”
The older woman sniffed and finished her statement. “The man who called said Larry was missing. Larry and all the men from Engine 57.”
“Not all the men.” Jamie almost hated telling the woman. How fair was it that Jake was alive, lying in a hospital bed beside her while Larry and the rest of the company were buried beneath forty floors of cement and steel? “Jake's alive. I'm with him at the hospital.”
A cry sounded from Larry's mother. “Oh, Jamie, that's wonderful. I'll let Sue know right away.”
“Is … is she there? I'd like to tell her myself.”
“She's in the bedroom with Katy.” The woman hesitated. “I'll see if she'd like to talk.”
A full minute passed. Jamie forced herself to think of nothing but the way Jake's fingers felt against her own. Finally, someone picked up the phone, and Sue's voice came over the line.
“Hello? Jamie?”
“Oh, Sue … they've got to find him. They've just got to.”
Both of them were suddenly crying, the sound of their sobs sounding out in muffled bursts across the phone line. When Jamie could finally speak, her voice was high, pinched by the sorrow that had built in her throat. “I'm sorry, Sue. I'm so sorry.”
“They'll find him. I … I have to believe it.” She took two quick breaths and uttered something that was part laugh, part cry. “Larry's mom says they found Jake.”
“Yes.” Jamie gripped her temples with her thumb and forefinger. “He was beneath the station rig. He has a head injury and burns. I'm with him at the hospital.”
“Is he going to be okay?” There were still tears in Sue's voice, but she'd calmed down considerably.
“I think so. The doctor hasn't been in yet. They're swamped with victims.”
“It doesn't make sense, does it?”
Jamie knew instinctively what Sue was talking about. If Jake had been found at ground level, why hadn't Larry been with him? The two of them never left each other's sides on a call. “You mean why they weren't together?”
“Exactly.” Sue exhaled hard. “Did they check under the truck? Inside it? Maybe Larry's still down there somewhere.”
It was an idea Jamie hadn't thought of. “You should call Captain Hisel. He's the one who found Jake.”
“Okay.” For the first time there was a whisper of hope in Sue's voice. “I'll do that. If I hear anything, I'll call you.”
“I'll be here.” It was a moment when most people would offer to pray, but Jamie couldn't bring herself to say the words. They both knew she was more skeptic than believer. And after what had happened today, she was afraid to raise Sue's hopes by offering to do something that couldn't possibly help. “Don't give up hope.”
“Okay. And, Jamie, when Jake wakes up, tell him we love him.”
FIFTEEN
SEPTEMBER 11, 2001, EVENING
There was nothing Laura could do but wait.
Clay had come over sometime before noon, and together they sat by the phone and watched the television reports come in. Thousands of people were missing and feared dead. Entire staffs from a dozen firms who'd worked in offices on the top floors of the Twin Towers were most likely gone.
She'd called Murphy six times, but now it was getting dark on the West Coast and pushing ten o'clock in New York City. For the past twelve hours, Laura kept telling herself the same thing. Eric was somewhere safe. He had to be. Koppel and Grant was on a floor that would've had time to evacuate. Certainly, he and the others had been among the throng of people who'd managed to escape. But if that was the case, why hadn't he called?
Not only that, but Laura had tried his cell phone at least once every ten minutes since Clay arrived. Each time the message was the same. The caller at that number wasn't available or was out of the service area. Laura curled her legs beneath her and stared at the television, unable to pull her eyes away. In the background she could hear Clay talking with Josh, helping him with his homework.
Laura wasn't sure what she'd have done without Clay. When he wasn't keeping Josh busy, he sat at the other end of the sofa doing nothing but answering her questions.
“He should've gotten out, don't you think?” she'd ask.
“Definitely. People made it out from higher than sixty-four. Everything should be fine, Laura.”
“He's just having trouble finding a phone, right?”
“Right.”
She'd be quiet for a while, try Murphy agai
n or Eric's cell phone. Then she'd start the questions over again. “He could walk down sixty-four flights of stairs, couldn't he?”
“Yes, Laura. He's in great shape.”
“How long do you think that would've taken him?”
Clay would think about the question. “Twenty minutes, maybe thirty depending on how many people were in the stairwell.”
“But people were moving down the steps pretty quickly, isn't that what they said?”
“Yes. There was no panic, just an orderly evacuation.”
“That's what I thought.”
And again she'd focus on the TV. In that manner, she'd passed the entire day. In some strange way, Clay's presence made the day feel more normal, as though Eric was only away on business and Clay was hanging around looking for something to do.
When Josh came home from school, he'd walked up to her and given her a hug. “Did Dad call?”
Laura's heart had felt ice cold, frozen in fear. But somehow she'd managed a smile. “Not yet.” Tears had welled up in her eyes. “He will. As soon as he can find a phone.”
Clay must have seen it in her face then, realized that she was about to snap. “Your mom needs to rest a little, okay, buddy?” He'd put his arm around Josh.
“Okay.” Josh bent over and kissed her cheek. “He'll be all right, Mom. Really.”
Laura had only nodded and shifted her gaze once more to the TV. They were interviewing survivors every few minutes, people who had made it out of the Twin Towers. Maybe they'd find Eric and talk to him, ask him about his escape. Laura couldn't afford to miss it if they did. And so she'd watched the screen, barely taking time to blink.
Hours had slipped by while Josh and Clay shot baskets in the backyard. Now Laura could smell something cooking in the kitchen behind her, but she had no interest in eating or even tearing herself from the TV until Clay entered the room and sat down. He set his hand on her knee and waited until he had her full attention. “You need a break.”
She shook her head. “I need to find him.”
“Thousands of people escaped. There's no reason to think they'll find Eric and interview him. Besides, Eric wouldn't be milling around Manhattan. He'd be looking for a way to find a phone. Don't you think?”
Clay's expression was gentle, and Laura felt her defenses fall. “I need to talk to Murphy.”
Clay studied her eyes, and the corners of his lips lifted in a sad smile. “Murphy said he'd call.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “I made spaghetti. Come eat.”
“I'm not hungry.”
“Just sit with us. Have a glass of water.” Clay's voice grew even softer. “I'm worried too. But you need a break, Laura. Sitting here isn't going to hurry his phone call.”
Laura searched Clay's face. “You think he's okay, though, right?”
“Definitely.” The look in his eyes was so certain that it fanned life in the embers of her heart. Her mouth was dry, and she realized she hadn't had any water since breakfast. “Okay.”
Laura forced herself to the table. She took three sips from her water glass and nodded. “I'm fine. Just tired.” She looked at Clay. “I need him to call.”
“He will.” Clay's eyes held hers. “I know he will.”
They ate in silence, and afterwards, Laura returned to the TV. Clay helped Josh with his shower, and in the distant background, she could hear him reading the boy his favorite book. Laura closed her eyes and listened. Clay's voice was so much like Eric's she could almost pretend her husband was home, safe, sitting next to their son reading to him.
Laura blinked and realized the obvious. Eric never read to Josh, so a scene like that with her husband and her son couldn't be happening upstairs.
Not even in her imagination.
Josh was clean and in his pajamas at eight o'clock when he came down and kissed Laura good-night. Clay was in the kitchen doing the dishes.
“Mom … you're still worried, aren't you?”
Laura took her eyes off the TV and looked at him. “Yeah, honey.” Her eyes stung from a day of crying and staring at the television. “I'm worried.”
“Why hasn't he called?”
“Maybe the phones don't work.” Laura hugged Josh and stroked his back. “There's a lot of bad stuff going on in New York City. So that could be it.”
Clay came into the room and positioned himself a few feet away. “Ready for bed, buddy?”
“Wait!” Josh drew back and his eyes lit up. “Maybe he's working!” He sounded as though this were the perfect explanation. “Maybe he had some extra things to do. He never calls us when he's on trips.”
As soon as Josh said the words, Laura shifted her gaze to Clay. The man had idolized his older brother as long as Laura had known him. Now she watched Clay take the news. The questions in his eyes could only be answered one way, and Laura gave him the slightest nod, confirmation that what Josh had said was true.
Eric never called home when he was out of town.
Laura blinked and focused her attention on Josh again. The look on his face made Laura want to weep. But she couldn't. The boy was serious. All he knew of his father's business trips were that they ranked higher in importance than anything at home, and that when he was gone, there were long stretches of days without any contact. “Yes, sweetie,” she patted his knee. “Maybe that's it.”
“G'night, Mom.” He leaned up and kissed her cheek. “Dad'll be home on Thursday. Then he'll tell us all about the fire.”
She hugged him again. “Okay.”
Clay held out his hand and led the boy upstairs. Ten minutes later he returned to the sofa where Laura was and sat several feet away from her. “He's asleep.”
“Thank you.” She held up the remote and flicked off the TV. “I can't watch another minute. Not tonight.” She looked at Clay. “There's a lot you didn't know about us.”
“He … he never calls you when he's gone?”
“Clay …” Laura exhaled in a way that seemed to come from the soles of her feet. “He barely talks to us even when he is here.”
“I knew there was trouble when I moved here, but nothing like this.” Clay's mouth hung open a bit, and he gave a frustrated shake of his head. “Eric's the greatest guy I know, Laura. He … he was so in love with you …”
Fresh tears poked pins at Laura's eyes. “A lot's happened since then.”
“A lot?”
Laura's voice faded some. “More than you know.”
“Tell me, Laura.” Clay leaned forward and dug his elbows into his thighs. “I've got all night.”
And so she did. She took him back to the spring of her twenty-first year when she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, a baby who would never open her eyes or take a single breath.
“Eric blamed himself.” Laura ran her fingers beneath her eyes and sniffed. “He told me I'd never want for good medical care again.”
“I'm sorry, Laura.” Clay stared at the floor for a minute, and when he looked up, the sorrow in his eyes was deeper than the ocean. “I never knew.”
Laura lifted her shoulders and swallowed a sob. “We … we never told anyone.”
“But then Josh came, right?”
“Right …” She looked at the space between her feet. “But things between Eric and me only got worse.”
She walked him through the next few years, the birth of Josh and the day when Eric was hired by Koppel and Grant. “You know …” She met his gaze again. “He was more excited about the job than the fact that he was a father.”
Clay's features were frozen, caught up in disbelief. “I always thought you were the perfect family—money, success, good health, and the kind of love most people never know.”
“Hardly.” A sad laugh sounded in the back of her throat. “Sometimes it feels like we never loved like that.”
Clay opened his mouth to say something, but before either of them could speak again, the phone rang. The receiver was between them, next to Laura on the sofa. She grabbed it, her eyes still fixed on Clay's. “Hello?”
<
br /> “Laura … it's Murphy.”
Relief filled her heart. “Thank God, Murphy. When did you hear from him?”
Silence shouted at her from the other end. “I didn't.” The man gave a shaky sigh. “I heard from one of the associates in the New York office. Hank Walden.”
Clay was watching her, trying to gauge the news. She nodded, impatient for Murphy to get to the point. “Okay, so where's Eric? That's all I need to know.”
“Ah, Laura … I hate to tell you this.”
He hesitated, and Laura wanted to scream at him. “Just say it, Murphy. I've been waiting all day to hear something, now come on!” Laura's hands shook, and she could no longer look at Clay. The sudden fear in his expression only made the moment seem more terrifying. She looked down at her feet. “Tell me!”
“I'm sorry, Laura … Eric's missing. Eric and Allen Koppel. Everyone else at Koppel and Grant is accounted for.”
The fainting feeling was back.
Laura hunched over her lap and let her head fall near her knees. “That's … that's impossible. They must be together somewhere. Eric said they had a meeting today, so maybe …” She remembered Josh's idea. “Maybe they're finishing business somewhere before they check in. Maybe—”
“Laura.” Murphy cut her off. His voice was filled with regret. “There's more. Hank saw Eric and Allen in one of the offices after everyone else evacuated the floor. They wouldn't come … they were … they were working on a few portfolios.” Murphy made a soft groan. “The Koppel and Grant group walked down the stairs together and waited near the outside door of the building several minutes—until police cleared them out.” He gave a sad huff. “Laura … Eric and Allen never came. No one saw either of them after that.”
Laura could almost feel her world collapsing. She wanted to argue with Murphy, tell him he was wrong and that Eric and Allen were somewhere safe. They had to be. But the information Murphy had told her was hard to dispute. Finally, she sat up some and shook her head. “That's okay, Murphy. Thanks for calling.”
Then without waiting for him to speak, she clicked the phone off and dropped it on the floor. A rushing sound filled her ears, and the walls felt like they were closing in. What had Eric done? He and Allen had stayed in an office? Working on portfolios? While the single worst disaster in the country's history unfolded, they could think of nothing more important than financial management and the investment needs of their clients?
One Tuesday Morning & Beyond Tuesday Morning Compilation Page 18
