20
Jack shouted into the phone as he steered the car into the maw of the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel.
"Hello! Hello, goddammit!"
Where was she? Where was Dov? Had he missed her? Why wasn't one of them back?
His blood chilled when he heard a commotion on the other end, cries of alarm.
Oh, please… please…
After a seeming eternity—long enough for Jack to near the far end of the tunnel—he heard a voice. Not on the phone, but near it.
Not Gia. Dov.
Jack's blood began to sludge as he heard him wailing, "Oh, dear God! Oh dear God!" in the background.
"Pick up! Pick up!"
Finally a clatter and then the guy's voice, sounding strained, shaky.
"You are still there?"
"What happened? What's wrong?"
"A lerrible thing! A terrible thing! The lady and the little girl—by a truck they were hit!"
Jack forced the words past a locking throat. "Are they hurt? Are they alive?"
"They're hurt terrible is all I can tell you. I don't see how they could live through such a thing. Emergency has been called. Help is on the way but I don't know… I don't know…"
Jack dropped the phone without cutting the connection. Dov might have been still talking but he couldn't hear.
The tunnel wavered before him, went out of focus. A blaring honk brought him back in time to keep his car from drifting into the next lane.
He searched for an emotion but he felt nothing—no rage, no fear, no sorrow. He'd flatlined. All that kept him sane was the conviction that this couldn't be… couldn't be…
Sunlight ahead. He aimed for it. Then he was out and pointed toward the FDR Drive. As he raced uptown he felt his insides turning to stone.