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“When they left the room, they likely climbed onto the roof to get to another part of the train,” Reggie says.
Under different circumstances, Anna would think it impossible. The Phoenix seems like it’s going too fast for such a feat. The motion would make keeping one’s balance on the roof very difficult. That is, if they weren’t immediately blown off the train first.
An even bigger problem is manipulating the window. The ones on the Phoenix open and close by sliding up and down. Since Herb’s window was already partially open, getting inside would have been, if not simple, at least relatively manageable. A quick lowering followed by a legs-first entry that, if done right, would catch anyone by surprise.
But climbing out the window and closing it behind them? That’s a greater degree of difficulty. It would have required the killer to clamber out the open window and then close it while clinging to the side of the train. During a blizzard, no less.
To see if it’s possible, Anna moves to the window by the bed and opens it in a single, smooth motion. Immediately, wind and snow blast into the room. Along with the noise of the train wheels, it’s an assault on her senses that makes Anna plant her feet to keep from being blown onto the bed.
Using the sill as support, she pushes through the window until her entire upper body is outside. Immediately, she understands how strange it is to be on the outside of a moving train. How utterly wrong. Especially a train moving as fast as the Phoenix. Its speed whips up both wind and chill, which work in tandem. The cold instantly brings a bone-deep shiver. Making it worse is the torrent of snow. Each flake that hits her skin feels like a needle prick, while the wind acts as a large, invisible hand that’s constantly shoving.
As she remains jutting outside the window, Anna notices how everything that’s insulated and silent when tucked into a rail carbecomes dangerously loud and real. Wheels churn mere feet beneath her, their metallic rattle-crunch sounding eager to chew her to bits if she should fall.
And how easy it would be to fall.
All someone would need to do is sneak up behind her and give her a shove. That fact makes Anna tighten her grip on the windowsill as she leans farther out of the train and looks to the room’s other window. The one next to Herb’s body that the killer slipped through.
A flat metal frame runs along the top edge of the glass, overhanging it by half an inch. There’s a similar overhang inside the train, there to allow passengers to easily open and close the window. All someone needs to do is jam their fingertips beneath the jutting sliver of metal and either push or pull, both inside and outside the train.
But can it be done while clinging to the train’s side? So far, it doesn’t look like it.
Still hanging outside the train, battered by wind and snow and cold, Anna maneuvers herself into a sitting position on the windowsill, facing inside. With a death grip on the window frame, she leans as far outside as possible to examine the top of the train.
A mistake, she immediately realizes. The cold feels like a deep plunge into ice water and the wind is so strong she fears it’ll yank her right out of the train. Snow streams past her face, obscuring her vision. Anna peers through it, noticing a ridge of metal on the edge of the roof that runs the length of the car. Although thick enough for someone to grab onto, Anna doubts a person could close the window while dangling from that alone. They would also need somewhere to plant their feet.
She wrangles back to her original position, searching the side of the train for such a place. In both directions, the Phoenix’s exterior appears to be a flat expanse of stainless steel now flecked byice and snow. It’s only when Anna looks down that she notices something on which a person outside the train could find purchase.
The orange stripe that runs along the side of the car.
Situated just beneath the window, the colored stripe isn’t paint but a panel affixed to the train’s side. Above and below, it is a narrow metal strip on which someone could place their toes. While one couldn’t stay there indefinitely, clinging spiderlike to the side of the train, Anna assumes it would give a person gripping the ridge along the roofline with one hand enough time and support to quickly close the window with the other.
Satisfied, Anna slips back inside the train and pushes the window shut. The wind and snow and noise instantly cease, yet their effect on Anna lingers. Flakes of snow stick to her windswept hair, and she can’t shake the chill running through her body. Rubbing her arms for warmth, she turns back to the room.
Reggie is no longer there.
Instead, he’s just outside it, joining the others in the cramped corridor.
“The killer definitely escaped through the window,” Anna says. “Likely used the roof to get back into their own room.”
She pauses, noting the odd way everyone stares at her. Even Seamus, who looks at her as if she’s a stranger.
“What’s wrong?” she says.
“How long were you with Sal before you came to see me?” Seamus asks.
He stands with his arms at his sides, his right hand balled into a fist. Anna suddenly feels uneasy. She doesn’t like how he’s acting, from his stance to his tone to the flash of suspicion currently in his eyes.
“Fifteen minutes,” she says.
Standing next to Seamus, Reggie gives her a curious look. “Are you certain of that?”
“Of course.”
“Then how did this get inside Herb’s room?”
Seamus opens his fist. As he reveals what he’s holding, Anna’s heart halts. Not a skip, nor a stutter, but a full-on stoppage.
Because nestled in his palm is a tiny train engine, its surface silvery and glinting.