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Nabler held the door for her, and as she entered the back room her jaw dropped. Her reaction was not unlike that of those who had come before her. Trains whipping around the room on tracks that hung in the air on strips of wood suspended by wires. A toy train jungle, ribbons of steel that twirled through the room like spaghetti. Along the far wall, an immense diorama featuring a town and mountains and rivers and bridges, but none of them quite right. Outcroppings of rock that looked more like skulls. Grass that looked like hair, tree trunks that had the look of bone.

“What... what is this... ?”

“This is where the magic happens,” Nabler said. “This is where all the trains are given that extra special something. Like that train set Charlie found in the shed out back of the place where you were staying. The quality of that set was top-notch. Very potent. Look how it held its resonance more than two decades after I ran it through the process. One of my very best, if I do say so myself.”

Annie had weaved her way through some of the suspended tracks to get closer to the miniature town. A long passenger train’s diesel horn sounded as it whipped past her head, startling her. She stood before Nabler’s handiwork, a town with various shops and servicesand a park and even what looked to be a town hall with a clock tower.

Something about it caught her eye, and she gasped.

It was the clock set into the top of the building. It wasn’t a regular clock. It was a Marvin the Martian watch.

Fifty-Four

Annie looked at Nabler and opened her mouth to scream, to say something, anything, but the words caught in her throat.

All she managed was, “That’s... that’s John’s... how did...”

“I’ll give you a minute,” Nabler said.

“You,”she said, finding her voice. In a voice that was no more than a whisper, she said, “You ran John down. You ran him down and you stole his watch. You murdered my husband.” She gazed upon his creation. “For this.”

“Not for that,” he said. “Not exactly.”

Annie wanted to summon the strength to lunge at him, tear him to pieces with her bare hands, and she was on the verge of doing it when something caught her eye.

That pane of glass that came to her in moments of inspiration and clarity.

No more than a foot square, crystal clear, as though someone had Windexed the bejesus out of it, catching light from the overhead fluorescents as it turned slowly in the air. It found its way between Annie and Nabler, closer to her, so that when she looked through it, she saw all of him.

And saw him for what he was.

The goofy hat and the vest with all the badges faded away, and Nabler was no longer his short, pixieish self, but six, maybe seven feet tall, with an elongated snout and whiskers and large, pointedteeth and ears that stuck up straight and hairy hands with long, dark nails.

Her rat-wolf man from Penn Station.

Smiling.

And just like that, the pane of glass was gone, and Edwin Nabler, toy train proprietor, was back.

Annie froze in disbelief. She’d been holding her breath, speechless. Nabler was not oblivious to the change that had washed over her.

He said, “You saw something.”

Annie shook her head. “No, I didn’t see anything.”

Nabler smiled. Annie knew that smile. “We’ve crossed paths before, haven’t we? A long time ago?”

“I don’t believe so,” Annie said.

He was studying her, looking at her differently than he had when she’d first arrived. “This is all starting to feel more preordained than I could have imagined. There are a few... what I would call civilians... who can sometimes catch brief glimpses into the sliver. Creative types, usually. You’re definitely one of the special ones.”

Annie took several quick, deep breaths, in and out, in and out. She needed her wits about her. As bizarre as her circumstances were, she needed a clear head.

She asked, “Why did you kill my husband? Itwasyou,wasn’tit? You ran him down in the street. You ran him down and ran back and stole his watch. Why?”

“It was integral to my objective.”

“Which was?”