Claire lifted her cello out of the felt mold. She took out the bow, held it in her hands. Wow...

A long minute of tuning, the old strings stretching back into their accustomed notes. A single pass, just running the bow along the strings, brought back a zillion sensations. Goose bumps. She played the first bars of the concerto. Sounded a little off, but the feel came back to her. “Ha, the old girl's still got it,” she said with a laugh. She closed her eyes and played a little more.

Then she noticed Edmund, still in his pajamas, watching her, standing at the bottom of the stairs. “I know I'm out of bed” - he scratched his head - “I remember putting on my glasses, even brushing my teeth. But it can't be, 'cause I must be dreaming.”

Edmund hummed the opening bars that Claire had just played. “So, you think you can finish off the next passage? That's the tricky part.”

“Is that a dare, Maestro Washburn?”

Edmund smiled mischievously.

It was then that the phone rang. Edmund picked up a cord

-

less on the handset. “Saved by the bell,” he groaned. “It's the office. On Sunday, Claire. Can't they ever give you a break?”

Claire took the phone. It was Freddie Rodriguez, a staffer at the ME's office. Claire listened, then she set down the phone.

“My God, Edmund...there's been an explosion down-town! Lindsay's been hurt.”

CHAPTER 6

I DON'T KNOW what took hold of me. Maybe it was the thought of the three dead people in the house, or all the cops and firemen charging around the accident scene. I stared at that knapsack, and my brain was shouting out that it was wrong - dead wrong. “Everyone get back!” I yelled again.