He rolled to a sitting position on the sofa, sending the case file he'd been reading sliding to the floor, and groped for the cellular phone. In his hasty search, he knocked a pile of folders off the coffee table and onto the carpet, before finally wrapping his fingers around the instrument. He stabbed at the Talk button three times before the red light came on and the ringing stopped. "What?" he barked into the receiver, more than ready to take his bad mood out on whoever had been unwise enough to make him or herself available. "Matthew?" "Mom?" Matt rubbed a hand up over his face and through his hair. "What is it?" "I think you'd better turn on the television, Matthew," his mother said, her soft, even tones failing to hide the note of anxiety in her voice. "The television?" "Channel Two," she said. "The eleven o'clock news report." Without taking the phone from his ear, Matt reached for the remote control and aimed it at the television. He punched it on. Two clicks brought him to the proper channel.
