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Fourteen

“Thank goodness,” the surprise ninth person says as he surveys the crowd in the lounge. “I was starting to worry I was the only one on this train.”

He flashes a cautious half smile that vanishes when he spots the cloth-covered corpse of Judd Dodge.

“I—” He says nothing more after that, his body language speaking volumes as he starts to back through the door.

Anna, until now frozen in shock by the presence of another person on the train, suddenly springs from her chair before the stranger can escape. “Wait!”

Blocking the closing door with an elbow, she latches onto the man’s sleeve and pulls him through the door, steering him to the nearest chair.

The stranger drops willingly into it, allowing Anna to get a good look at him.

He appears to be in his late twenties and plain in every regard.

Sandy hair, brown eyes, a face that would likely pass for handsome in different lighting and under more relaxed circumstances.

Everything about him, from his suit to his wingtips, seems to strive for a conventionality that borders on the invisible.

“Why are you on this train?” Anna demands.

The stranger shoots another quick glance at the corpse on the floor. “That man. Is he—”

“Dead?” Anna says. “Yes.”

The man lurches forward, and for a moment Anna thinks he’s going to throw up. Or faint. Or both. Feeling very much the same way, Anna nudges him upright again and says, “Were you working with him?”

Confused ripples form across the man’s forehead. “What? No, I—”

“Then who are you with?”

“Myself.”

Anna gestures to the others in the car. “None of them brought you?”

“No,” the man says, defensive now. “I brought myself.”

“You couldn’t have,” Anna tells him. “There’s no room on this train.”

The stranger looks around the half-full lounge, no doubt thinking about the rest of the train and trying to make sense of it all. “But it’s empty.”

“That doesn’t matter. So I’m going to ask you again, and this time you’re going to tell me the truth. Why are you on this train?”

“Because I made a mistake.” The man sighs and stares at the spot of floor between his well-polished shoes. “I got mixed up on the platform and boarded the wrong train.”

Anna blinks in agitation. Having an innocent bystander onboard is the last thing she needs right now. “The wrong train?”

“I’m supposed to be heading to Baltimore right now,” the man says. “Once I realized what happened, it was too late. This train was already moving. Where’s it headed?”

“Chicago.”

“Wow.” The man widens his eyes before grimacing. “I really botched up this time. I guess I’ll get off at the next stop and, uh, try to backtrack to where I need to be.”

“There isn’t a next stop,” Anna says.

“What do you mean?”

“This train is an express going straight to Chicago.”

“My boss is going to kill me.” The stranger, realizing the inappropriateness of the phrase, takes on a stricken look. With another darting glance at Judd’s body, he says, “I’m sorry. I’m just really, um, nervous.”

Anna backs herself to the other side of the car, settling on the armrest of the chair across from the man. “Nervous or scared?”

“Both,” he admits. “But more scared?”

Anna feels more than a little frightened herself. This is bad, she thinks. Very bad. Practically catastrophic. Yet another thing threatens to ruin her plans. All because some idiot stepped onto the wrong train.

If he’s telling the truth, of course. Anna knows there’s a very good chance this man is lying.

“Tell me your name,” she says.

“Reginald,” the man says. “Reginald Davis. My friends call me Reggie.”

Anna considers this, wondering if it’s an alias. She replays the way he said it in her mind, searching for signs of hesitation, of performance, of untruth. There’s nothing that stands out, which makes her doubly suspicious.

Seamus must feel the same way, because he takes a step toward them and says, “You got proof of that, Reggie?”

“A driver’s license?” Anna suggests. “Or a passport? Anything to let us know you’re who you say you are.”

“How about my word?”

Anna chuckles dryly. “That means nothing here.”

“My wallet’s in my overnight bag. Which is still in coach.” The man dips a hand into his jacket pocket. “But I have my ticket. See?”

He holds out a slip of paper so that Anna can see both the station of departure—Philadelphia—and his original destination of Baltimore. She eyes it with suspicion. Just because he bought a ticket doesn’t mean he intended to use it.

“Why didn’t we see you earlier?” Seamus says. “All of us went to the front of the train and back again more than an hour ago. Yet you were nowhere to be seen.”

Reggie hesitates, his face turning an embarrassed pink. “I was in the lavatory.”

“That entire time?” Anna says.

“I was sick. My nerves, you see. When I realized I’d boarded the wrong train, they got the best of me. While I was holed up in the lavatory, I heard you all going back and forth. It was a relief. That’s why I entered the first-class section. To find you.”

“A move you’re probably regretting right now,” Seamus says, signaling that he might believe Reggie.

Anna finds herself doing the same. Thanks to his dazed look and timid bearing, it’s easy to imagine Reggie Davis having a nervous stomach.

“Do you regret coming back here?” Anna asks.

“Yes,” Reggie says. “A little. I mean, I needed to understand what was going on. Why is no one else on this train?”

“Because I bought all the tickets.”

Reggie reacts with a look of bug-eyed consternation. “ All the tickets?”

Anna nods.

“How much did that cost?”

“Everything I had,” Anna says. “This is a private journey. Arranged by me for my special guests.”

“So, it’s a party?” Reggie says.

“Not in the least.”

Reggie, now seemingly more uncertain than ever, tugs his shirt collar and gives one last look at the corpse on the floor. “Well, I’m sorry to barge in like this. If you all don’t mind, I’ll just go back to coach and stay there until we reach Chicago.”

He stands and makes for the door again. This time, Anna is ready for it and blocks his escape. Reggie is part of this now, whether he wants to be or not. She certainly can’t have him bopping around the empty train on his own.

“I’m afraid that’s no longer an option, Reggie.”

“Listen,” he says. “Whatever’s going on here, I don’t want any part of it.

I’m just an insurance salesman from Lansdale.

Unlike you, I’m not standing around doing nothing while there’s a dead man in the car.

Now, it’s time you start answering some of my questions, starting with who you are and what the hell is going on here. ”

Anna realizes she has no choice but to tell Reggie the truth. Innocent bystander or not, he deserves to know as much as everyone else onboard.

“My name is Anna Matheson.”

“Matheson?”

Anna’s not surprised the name rings a bell. Even twelve years later, her father remains infamous throughout America.

“Daughter of Arthur Matheson,” she says before giving him a truncated version of who she is, who the others are, why they’re all on an empty train barreling toward Chicago, and why it’s unlikely to stop until they get there.

Reggie listens intently, every so often repeating a key word, as if trying to underscore its importance in his mind. “Framed.” “Conspiracy.” “Justice.” When Anna finishes, he points to Seamus and says, “So he’s with you?”

“Yes.”

“And the others are…?”

“Guilty,” Anna says.

“Not me,” Dante announces from behind the bar. “I want to make that clear.”

“Nor me,” adds Lapsford, a lie Reggie doesn’t acknowledge because he’s too busy taking fleeting glances at Judd Dodge’s corpse.

“How did he die?” he says.

“He was murdered,” Anna says, seeing no reason to shield the stranger from something he’s already surmised.

Reggie lets that sink in a moment before asking the inevitable follow-up question. “Did you do it?”

“If I say no, will you believe me?”

“Not sure.”

Anna can’t help but smile. The man might be lying about everything else, but at least she knows he’s being honest about that. “Well, please believe me when I say I did not murder him. But someone in this car did.”

Reggie looks around the lounge, aghast. “Why?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Was—” Reggie gulps. “Was he one of the people who—”

“Yes,” Anna says, less to spare him from speaking the obvious end of the sentence than to prevent her from hearing it. “But I didn’t want him dead. You must believe me about that, too, since many of the others in this car don’t.”

Reggie spends a moment trying to process all of this, looking not at Anna but at the bar in the corner of the car. “Could—” His voice is a harsh scratch. He swallows, licks his lips, and tries again. “Could I trouble someone for a drink?”

Sal lets loose with an inappropriate laugh. “Trust me, pal. That’s the last thing you want.”

“Why?”

“Because his drink was poisoned,” Anna says. “That much we do know.”

“But not by me,” Sal says.

“Or me,” Lapsford is quick to add.

Reggie looks again to the bar, which Dante currently leans against as if he works there. “What about him?”

“I’m just an innocent bystander like you,” Dante says.

“A bystander? Yes.” Anna pauses, narrowing her eyes at Dante. “Innocent? Not at all.”

“But someone here killed him?” Reggie says.

“Correct. And now that you know the situation, you can understand why it’s impossible to let you return to coach. Since you know a murderer is aboard this train, it’s vital that you stay with us. For your own protection.”

Exhaustion nudges Anna from all sides. She’s now responsible for keeping this stranger alive for the rest of the trip.

For keeping all of them alive. A burden she never considered when planning this night.

The realization makes her so tired she’s forced to leave the doorway and sink into the nearest chair, hoping Reggie doesn’t again try to make a run for it.

She doesn’t possess the energy to chase after him if he does.