Chapter 12

True to Hank's prediction, Abby was unable to enter the site on Monday morning. The perimeter guards outside the area refused to let her pass. Word of her supposed close call had spread, so a few incoming firefighters seconded the perimeter guards’ assessment.

With no other options, she went to the armory and dropped off a DNA sample. It was the ultimate defeat to write out on a piece of paper that Noah was dead. 

She called Firehouse 15, and the person behind the desk wasn't McClunis. Whoever it was said he had no information on Noah Baker before hanging up on her.

At the Javits, she waited in line with the volunteers who hadn't been selected. She was not the only relative who had been displaced from the site. They took her name and information and gave her phone numbers for grief counselors and other support services.

She tried to sneak in with the night shift but was turned away. The Pink Lady was too recognizable.

During her call home, her father happily informed her that Noah had just called and was on his way home from school. For once, her mother was awake.

“Did you find him?” Mary Baker asked. Unlike Dad, she was lucid and understood the answering machine message.

“He was at a conference in a hotel between the Twin Towers. The hotel was destroyed. They're not even sure they'll find a body. I left a DNA sample, so if they ever find anything, they can call us. I'm sorry, Mom.”

There was silence, and then her mom spoke slowly as usual. “At least we know. And I'll see him soon.”

“I tried, Mom. I did.”

“There was nothing anyone could do. These things happen. Come home. Dad's more confused since you left. Every phone call is Noah or you. Vicky has our car keys because he wants to drive.”

“I'll be home soon. I promise. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too.” Her mom hung up, exhausted as usual.

After the call, Abby—for the twentieth time that day—instinctively tried to speak to Hank. But he wasn't there. She'd driven him off, burning her bridges with the only good thing she'd had.

Upon her return to the apartment, the phone rang. She picked it up, cursing herself because she didn't know Barry's last name. “Hello, Tribeca, New York.”

“Hi, this is Barry, Nate's cousin. Are you Mrs. Finny, the Pink Lady?”

“I'm Abby. They called me the Pink Lady at the Pile.”

“Hi,” he started awkwardly. “I hope this isn’t a bad time, but they opened up everything up except Ground Zero. I wanted to come home tomorrow.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” she said. “I can be out of here tomorrow morning. No problem.”

“You don't have to leave,” Barry said.

“Nah. It’s your place, and they're sending lots of the volunteers home. I can go back to Wisconsin.” Abby wished it weren’t true, but it was. There was nothing for her here.

“How is my apartment?” he asked. “I've heard it's bad in Manhattan.”

“Not even a cracked window,” she assured him, “Though I should mention, we took thirty showers, washed the sheets, and drank two bottles of wine.”

“Only two?” he said. “I've killed six this week in Staten. You saw Nate, right?”

“I did.”

“He okay?”

“Yeah. He was on search and rescue, but he was fine.”

“That's good, ‘cause he hasn't come home, and we're all worried, including his wife and kids,” Barry said.

“He's not calling in?” Abby asked.

“Not since he called on Thursday to tell me about you.”

Abby thought back for a second. Nate had been one of the regulars who slept in the pews at St Paul's. “I saw him two days ago, and he was fine. Tired, but fine.”

“If you see him tomorrow,” Barry said, “can you ask him to come home? Please?”

“I'll do what I can,” Abby hedged.

Barry thanked her and hung up.

Resentment built up inside her. She wanted to scream or throw things or destroy something. Was anyone searching for Wills? Was his family wondering what had happened to him? Had they too been kicked off the Pile?

Had Wills miraculously escaped and was already home with his family? Or was he doing what Nate was and refusing to leave even when hope was lost?

Again, she wanted to ask Hank, but there was no Hank. He was in Michigan by now. Their paths had crossed briefly, but he'd move on. He always moved on, from what he said.

But not Abby. She’d never get over losing Noah, and it was time to admit that she might not get over Hank.

Of all the people and problems, Nate was probably one she could help.

The problem was that she wasn't allowed on the site. The Pink Lady was barred from returning to Ground Zero. 

But what if she wasn't the Pink Lady?