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She could die in the next few hours.
That prospect has always been present, Anna knows, rattling in the background as steadily as the train’s wheels. Now that it’s too loud and too shrill to ignore, she has trouble focusing on anything else. She’s only vaguely aware of Reggie answering Lapsford’s question.
“I do,” he says.
“Why would he do that?” Sal says.
Anna’s been asking herself that same question. Why would someone like Judd, one, fake his own death, and two, spend that time of deception moving through the train killing people while framing her in the process? That last part, Anna vaguely understands. By making it look like she murdered Edith and Herb, Judd hopes to take her down with the rest of them.
While she’s relieved to at least be cleared of that suspicion, Anna can’t help but worry about the rest of Judd’s motives. What, exactly, is his endgame? Even if he’d managed to play dead until the end of the trip, the ruse will be over the moment authorities step onto the train in Chicago. He’ll still be arrested right alongside everyone else.
Her gut instinct is that there’s a different reason for Judd’s actions. One far scarier than trying to frame her. Maybe he plans to kill them all and attempt to escape at the last second. Or maybe he simply snapped—the only motivation for his actions being insanity. If that’s the case, all of them have reason to be concerned.
“Howdid he do it?” Dante says.
Anna has a better idea about that, and it involves Judd’s deft sleight of hand. Of course the same man who made candy canes appear out of thin air could make it seem like he was poisoned to death. It helped that Seamus, who’s no medical expert, already admitted to not quite knowing how to check for a pulse.
“Since I wasn’t here to witness it, I don’t know,” Reggie tells Dante. “But it’s my understanding that you and Mr. Callahancarried his body to his room.Myquestion is how did the two of you miss the fact that he was still alive?”
That’s something Anna hadn’t thought about, even after they’d stormed into Judd’s empty room and confirmed that he was still alive. But the way Seamus and Dante stiffen on either side of her makes Anna consider if one of them knows more than they’re letting on. She hopes not. More important, she doubts it. In all the shock and confusion following Judd’s apparent death, it was easy to miss how he wasn’t really dead at all. Anna certainly had when she was collapsed on the floor beside him.
Then again, she didn’t have as much contact with Judd as Seamus and Dante did. She hadn’t lifted him off the floor by his legs and shoulders, carried him across three train cars to his room, lowered him onto a bed. Is it possible someone could do all of that without realizing the man they carried was still alive? Especially Seamus, who’d been the one gripping Judd’s shoulders?
The only answer Anna can come up with is: maybe. After all, Judd’s body was covered with a tablecloth the entire time, preventing Seamus from seeing a flutter of eyelids or the slight rise and fall of Judd’s chest as he took a surreptitious breath.
Anna casts a sidelong glance his way, searching Seamus’s features as he says, “What do you think I should have done? Perform an autopsy? The man looked dead, so I assumed he was.”
“He’s right,” Dante says, in a rare moment of agreement between them. “We all thought that. Especially since we all assumed we’d just watched him die. Then again, I’m not the one who checked his pulse.”
And just like that, the truce between Dante and Seamus ends. They glare at each other, Anna caught in the cross fire of their mutual contempt. Bearing his most dour scowl of the night so far, Seamus says, “What are you implying? That I helped Judd fake his death?”
“Maybe,” Dante says.
Seamus lurches toward him. “And maybe I should punch you in your rich-boy face.”
“Stop it,” Anna says, thrusting her arms in front of them to block what she fears could become a full-on fistfight. “Both of you. Right now, we need to focus on the fact that a killer has been roaming this train all night.”
She now has no doubt that it was Judd Dodge she saw earlier in the night, moving through the train. Not a figment of her imagination. And certainly not her brother. Just Judd, a living ghost, on his way to murder Edith. Anna assumes their paths never crossed because Judd had ducked into her room to cut the drapery cord they later found wrapped around Edith’s neck.
Only two questions remain: Where is Judd now—and who does he plan to kill next?
That he intends to murder again is, in Anna’s view, a given. He didn’t go to all this trouble just to stop at two. She fears it’s all or nothing.
“What are the odds that Judd, suspecting we’d eventually be on to him, simply jumped from the train?” Reggie says.
“Slim to none. He knows it’ll probably kill him. If the fall doesn’t, the storm will.” Anna jerks her head to the window, where the blizzard continues to rage. “I don’t think he’d go to such great lengths to fake his own death just to risk his life for real several hours later.”
“Then let’s assume he’s still on this train,” Reggie says. “Does anyone have any idea where he might be now?”
Anna shakes her head. “Judd Dodge helped design the Phoenix. He knows it like the back of his hand. Every nook. Every cranny. And, as we now know, he’s capable of using the roof to get from place to place. Honestly, he could be anywhere.”
“So we need to search the entire train,” Reggie says.
“Or we can stay right here,” Lapsford says. “It’s doubtful Judd would try to kill one of us if we’re all together.”
“The train won’t be reaching Chicago for—” Reggie looks to Anna for the answer.
“Four hours.”