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Friedman, let me try and get him on the phone. I’m sure it’s got to be crazy around Grand Central. Maybe he’s on his way over and the phones just aren’t functioning. Maybe he took a later train—”
    “ I got a call from him, Heather! At eight thirty-four. He said they were pulling into Grand Central in a while….” Her voice was shaking. “That was eight thirty-four, Heather! He was on it. Otherwise he would have called. I think he was on that train…. ”
    Heather begged her to stay calm and said she would e-mail him, that she was sure she’d hear from him soon. Karen nodded okay, but when she put down the phone, her heart was racing and her blood was pumping out of control and she had no idea whatto do next. She pressed the phone to her heart and dialed his number one more time.
    C’mon, Charlie…. Charlie, please…
    Outside Grand Central, the news reporter was confirming that it had been at least one bomb. A few survivors had staggered out of the station. They were gathered on the street, dazed, faces smeared with blood and black with soot. Some were muttering something about Track 109, that there’d been at least two powerful explosions and a fire raging down there, with lots of people still trapped. That something had gone off in the first two cars.
    Karen froze. That’s when tears finally started to roll down her cheeks.
    That’s where Charlie always sat. It was like a ritual with him. He always camped out in the first car!
    C’mon, Charlie…. Karen pleaded silently, watching the screen outside. People are making it out. Look, they’re interviewing them.
    She punched his number in again, her body giving over to full-out panic.
    “Answer the fucking phone, Charlie!”

CHAPTER SIX
    Her thoughts flashed to Samantha and Alex. Karen realized she had to get home.
    What could she possibly tell them? Charlie always drove in. He had a spot in his building’s garage. He’d been doing it for years.
    That this was the one goddamn morning he picked to take the train!
    Karen crumpled her sweat top into her bag and ran out, past the front counter, through the outer glass doors. She hurried over to where her Lexus was parked, the hybrid Charlie had bought her barely a month ago. The console still smelled new. She flicked the automatic lock on her key chain and jumped in.
    Her house was about ten minutes away. Pulling out of the lot, Karen kept the Blue Tooth phone on automatic dial to Charlie’s cell. Please, Charlie, please, answer the goddamn phone!
    Her heart kept sinking. “This is Charlie Friedman….”
    Tears rolled down her cheeks as she pushed back her worst fears. This can’t be happening!
    Karen made a sharp right out of the Sportsplex’s lot onto Prospect, cut the light at the corner, accelerating onto I-95. Traffic was backed up, slowing everything headed into downtown Greenwich.
    All sorts of new, conflicting reports were coming in. The radio said that multiple explosions had taken place. That there was a fire on the tracks, burning out of control. That the intense heat and the possibility of noxious fumes made it impossible for fire-fighters even to get close. That there were significant casualties.
    It was starting to scare Karen to death.
    He could be trapped down there. Anywhere. He could be burned or injured, unable to get out. On his way to a hospital. There were a hundred fucking scenarios that could possibly be playing out. Karen pressed the speed dial again.
    “Where are you, goddamn it, Charlie? Come on, please….”
    Her mind flashed again to Alex and Samantha. They wouldn’t have any idea. Even if word had spread to them, it wouldn’t occur to them. Charlie always drove.
    Karen pulled off the highway at Exit 5, Old Greenwich, and onto the Post Road. Suddenly her car phone beeped. Thank God! Her heart almost leaped out of her chest.
    But it was only Paula, her best friend, who lived nearby in Riverside, only a few minutes away.
    “You hear what’s going on?” The sound of