by Angie Fox
“The golden child,” Jordan sneered.
“Cut it out.” Dave snapped. “Ron tries hard. I never condoned what he spent to keep that girl happy, and I wasn’t surprised she left when we tightened our belts. But Ron’s problems are nothing compared to yours. You can’t threaten me, and you can’t go around killing people. What happens when Ron finds out?”
He pointed the knife at his dad. “You’d better not tell him.”
Dave held his hands up. “You got what you wanted. I signed over your inheritance, your portion of the business.” His forehead shone with sweat. “It’s over now. I don’t want to see you ever again.”
Jordan showed him the knife, approaching him slowly. “I wouldn’t have had to stop the train the second time if you’d signed it over when I asked the first time. Hell, we were less than a day out of the station. You could have avoided this whole mess.”
“You don’t deserve that money and you know it,” Dave said softly.
If he wasn’t careful, he was going to end up next to me.
I looked down at my bloodied wrists. The ties remained intact. I wasn’t getting anywhere, and I was almost out of time.
“I made the company millions,” Jordan seethed.
“By using my trucks to transport heroin over state lines,” Dave hissed.
“Our trucks,” his son corrected. “And I didn’t hear you arguing when the money started rolling in.”
“I didn’t know,” Dave shot back. “I trusted you.”
Think. I frantically tried to recall the details of the Personal Safety and Self-Defense workshop Melody had set up at the library. She’d been so excited, so worried nobody would show up. I did, with Lauralee. The woman giving the class had talked about how to get out of zip ties. At the time it had seemed like a rather extreme bit of information, but now I wished I’d paid closer attention.
Jordan leveled the knife at his father’s throat. “You kicked me out of the house with nothing. No job, no savings, a shitty apartment where I was supposed to hide out and do what?”
Dave kept his distance. “Let your mother and me fix it.”
His son barked out a laugh. “I fixed it.”
I couldn’t look anymore. I focused on untying the laces on my sneaker, praying I was remembering the library seminar right.
“You’re breaking your mom’s heart,” Dave pleaded.
“I’m covering her butt. She’s the one who brought the bloody heels back to your room. She was the one who followed me that night. I didn’t ask her to go tromping around in the blood. Did I tell you she closed the stupid compartment and let it lock behind her? I’m one of the only ones with a skeleton key!”
“She can’t sleep. She can’t eat.”
I threaded my shoelace through the zip ties, fumbling. I realized I had to untie my other shoe as well.
What was I even going to do if I could get free? Attack the guy holding the knife? I still wasn’t sure whose side Dave would be on.
“We’ll be okay as long as Mom keeps her mouth shut,” Jordan spat. “I think she will. Mom likes nice things. So do you. And there aren’t many nice things in prison.”
“We didn’t do anything,” Dave pleaded.
I tied the free ends of my laces together and started sawing. He was going to stab me for sure once he saw what I was up to.
“She covered up a murder,” Jordan said, waggling the knife at his father. “So will you. You’re going to forget all about this.”
Dave seized the handle of the knife. He wrenched it out of his son’s grip and shoved him backward.
“How dare you threaten me after everything we’ve done to cover for you?” He tossed the knife into the fire burning in the potbellied stove.
“What the hell?” Jordan raged. He shoved his dad against the wall while Dave gripped his son’s arms to maintain some distance between them. “Now how are we going to kill her?” He gave one last, hard push. “I dragged her all the way down here so I wouldn’t leave evidence anywhere else.”
Dave stood with his back to the door. “This is how you think,” he said, as if he still couldn’t quite believe it.
“The police can still find out about you. It won’t take too much digging in your business records to find the truth. You want to go to prison, old man? Lose the house? The business? Tell Mom you gave it all up to teach me some lesson?”
I sawed harder.
“Or do you just want to let it go?” Jordan taunted.
Dave rested his hands on his hips, thinking.
“We do this and it’s over,” Dave commanded. “You don’t come crawling back to your mother or me. You don’t expect us to cover for you anymore. It’s over.”
“You’ll never see me again,” Jordan promised.
Dave looked past his son, to me. I blocked my hands with my back and crouched perfectly still.
“Then what do we do about her?” Dave asked.
The corner of Jordan’s mouth turned up. “Same plan, we get rid of the evidence.”
Chapter 25
“We’ll send her into the river,” Jordan told his father.
It was a death sentence. I couldn’t swim with my hands tied. Even if I could, the fall would probably kill me, just like the passengers on the old Sugarland Express.
Jordan brushed past his father and opened the door. Rain poured down hard, but he barely seemed to notice.
He drew down the brim of his porter’s hat and jumped out sideways, to the left of the rickety crossing to the main train. “There’s a switchback halfway down the hill. I’ll pull it. You unhitch the caboose.”
Dave looked back at me. I locked eyes with him, daring him to see me as a person, not just a complication. But I saw no trace of guilt, no humanity. Nothing.
“The tracks are slick,” he said to his son. “It won’t take anything for it to head down that hill.”
“Dave, please,” I called. “You’re better than this.”
He’d taken the knife. He had some sway over his son. He could stop this. There was a good person in there.
Somewhere.
This was the man I’d had meals with, I’d shared drinks with. Now he ignored me.
Dave jumped down next to his son. “Show me how to unhitch the caboose.”
They stood right outside the open door, with a clear view of me.
Luckily I had my back to them. I was nearly through the zip tie. Only a thin strip of plastic remained.
I was so close. I twisted my wrists. If I had my hands, if I could only break free…then what? I’d attack two grown men who wanted to kill me? That was insane on about ten different levels, but so was staying on a train car that they were about to send into the river.
Footsteps echoed on the metal floor behind me. I peered over my shoulder.
Jordan.
He held something low next to his leg. A weapon?
I hunched over my hands, praying he didn’t see the laces wound through my ties.
He tossed a pair of bloody heels onto the floor next to me. “You wanted these so bad. You can go down with them.”
The rusty bloodstains nestled against the cheerful blue hydrangeas on my dress.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Dave called from the door.
“Her idiot ex went for help. We can’t risk having the shoes on the train when the police get here, or Mamma is going to jail for sure.”
Sweet heaven. I tried to keep my breathing steady, to remain calm.
The metal door slammed closed behind them.
I went back to sawing for all I was worth.
My arms sweated, my wrists bled, my breath came in pants. I worked the bands until they snapped hard. My hands were free.
Thank God and hallelujah.
I grabbed the metal ladder and hauled myself to my shaking feet, knees weak and mind racing. I had to go. I had to get out of here. I made a dash for the window, forgetting my shoelaces were still tied together, and went down hard on my knees.
It was okay. It
was fine. I kicked my shoes off rather than try to untie them.
I stood again, gripping the rain-splattered window for support. I saw Jordan sprinting down the hill, toward the junction in the tracks.
Okay, so I just had to take Dave, a large man who would be fighting for his life and his family. Good thing I could scream really loud.
I grabbed for the metal door on the side closest to the hill, hoping to avoid him for as long as I could.
It was locked.
I ran for the door on the train side. I’d swing it outward—hard—and hope to hit him with it.
It didn’t budge, either.
Through the foggy window, I saw Dave, his focus trained on a spot down the hill, waiting for his signal to cut me loose. I had to get off before then.
Think.
I could break a window, but they were too small for me to fit even my head through.
I could use the wood-burning stove to set a signal fire, but the caboose was metal. I didn’t have anything to burn. Besides, it was raining hard outside, and anyone who might see my fire would be snuggled indoors.
Then it hit me: the crow’s nest.
Molly had talked about the view.
That meant windows, hopefully big enough for me to at least poke my head out and scream bloody murder.
The car shuddered as Dave dislodged something in the front.
Oh, no, no, no.
I scrambled up the ladder, the rounded rungs hard against my bare feet. I crawled up into the crow’s nest, past the old observation chair, to the long, wide window at the back. Jackpot!
Only I didn’t have anything to break it.
My mind swam.
It’s fine. I’m fine.
I forced myself out of panic mode—barely—in time to see a latch on the bottom. Of course! It would be stuffy up here. In olden days, the watchman working the caboose would need fresh air.
I flipped the latch and shoved at the old window. It protested. I forced it open anyway just as the caboose began rolling down the tracks toward the river.
Rain pelted my face and wind blew my hair into my eyes as I shoved my head and shoulders out the window. I squeezed the rest of my body out until I was sitting facing the rapidly disappearing train as the caboose picked up speed down the hill.
Cripes! The car jerked and rattled hard on the tracks, a light, loose, barreling disaster.
I slipped and nearly fell.
For a second, I considered jumping. Only the caboose was moving too fast. I’d break my neck.
The caboose hit the switchback and I struggled to hang on. The car shuddered hard, jerking onto the old tracks, clattering straight for the ruined bridge.
It felt like I was on an old wooden roller coaster from hell. Only this roller coaster had no seatbelt, no safety system, and a dead drop at the end.
I gritted my teeth and climbed on top of the slick roof of the crow’s nest, grasping the wet, metal handles above the window and hoisting myself over, the metal rumbling under my stomach as the car screamed toward the ruined bridge.
It was at least a four-story drop into the river.
I had no shot if I was inside the caboose. None.
A water landing was my only chance.
We hit the bridge, almost hopping the old rails, which hadn’t been part of the renovation project and now were barely held together by rotting planks. My hands went numb as the caboose rattled hard, losing some speed but not enough to save me. Up ahead I saw jagged wood, broken rails, and the churning river below.
I tucked my legs under me, dug the balls of my feet against the cold metal roof, and braced myself as the caboose tipped and plunged through the gaping hole in the bridge.
My stomach lurched at the sharp drop.
And then I jumped.
I shoved up off the roof, launching myself away as far as I could. It wasn’t pretty or athletic or even smart. I squeezed my arms and legs tight and kept my body as streamlined as I could.
The plunge into the water felt like getting knocked in the head by a two-by-four. I dropped down deep and fast, the sudden punch of impact knocking the breath out of me. For a second, I let the water cocoon me. I was shocked to be out of that train car. Amazed to be alive.
Gray light shone from above the waterline. It was quiet down here. Peaceful.
I pushed up, and with several hard strokes, I broke the surface.
Water streamed down my face, momentarily blinding me. I wiped my eyes, but the rain hit them and blurred my vision again. Thunder rolled overhead. I spotted the shore and swam for it, fighting the current that pulled me sideways.
If I could just get to the river’s edge. If I could just get up the hill and to the train and find Ellis before the Abels found me. Choking and gasping, I made my way toward shore. I was ten feet from safety when I saw Jordan on the bank.
He glared at me, as if incensed to see me in the water, to see that I’d lived. I stifled a scream as he waded into the water after me.
I turned and swam the other way, to the far bank. I was already exhausted and out of breath. My muscles felt weak and rubbery, like I was kicking against nothing. I hit a spot where the current swirled in a whirlpool and prayed I wouldn’t get sucked into an undertow. But I didn’t have time to go around it. I didn’t have the energy. I was working hard and not going anywhere. It took everything I had to keep pushing forward.
I’d almost reached the middle of the river when a hand grabbed my back leg. Jordan. He’d caught me. I kicked and tipped forward, earning a mouth full of water.
I spit it out and took a deep breath.
Rough hands found my neck and shoved me under.
I couldn’t swim forward, I couldn’t go back. He held me down hard.
I kicked off him and inhaled a huge, fast breath before going the only way I could. I swam deep down, as deep as I could go.
His hand caught my ankle. He was right behind me.
I swam hard, down, down, down until I glimpsed a twist of metal through the gloom. My lungs burned and my brain screamed wrong direction! A window gaped at me, crusted with barnacles.
I’d found the wreck of the Sugarland Express.
Chapter 26
The maze of ruined metal was a dead end, a death trap. I turned and saw the looming figure of Jordan right behind me.
I blew out a little breath to ease the pressure in my lungs, which were already screaming for oxygen. I was desperately trapped. It couldn’t get worse—until I felt the sickening, invasive touch of a ghost on my wrist.
Ick! I grabbed my arm back.
The Green Lady reached up through the dark water. She was supposed to be imprisoned somewhere. The ghost conductor had said she’d exiled herself to a place even ghosts had left behind, and I hadn’t asked him to explain.
She’d chosen the wreck of the Sugarland Express.
She floated inside the remains of the old dining room. Ghostly plates drifted in the water behind her. Her hair streamed with the current.
Her mouth formed a single word: Come.
Sure. To her creepy water prison. I could get lost in there. Drown. Encounter sharp metal, shifting debris. Ghosts didn’t always understand the limitations of the living.
Jordan burst out of the murky darkness and grabbed for my other wrist.
I yanked it back and dove straight into the wreck of the Sugarland Express.
The ghost of Clara Bolton zipped ahead of me, glowing gray against the murk of the river. I avoided the hulking ruins of toppled tables and chairs. A gray, glowing chandelier brushed my elbow and I shivered.
I dodged a piece of fallen roof as Clara twisted around a bent door and down farther, through the remains of a kitchen car.
I looked back. Jordan was right behind me.
My lungs seized. I needed to get to the surface. I needed to breathe.
Ghostly knives were scattered over the floor or the roof or whatever I was looking at. I couldn’t see windows anymore or a way out.
I followed Clara
anyway. I was in too deep already. She was helping me.
She had to be helping me. I was betting my life on it.
My brain fuzzed and my vision went blurry. I let out little bits of air, craving the relief. Blackness began to overtake me. Either we were too far down in the wreck or my body was shutting down.
I gave in to panic and grabbed for something to hold onto. It sliced my hand.
The pain shocked me back to my senses.
Clara turned back to me. Her lips moved: “Swim!”
With the last of my energy reserves, I swam as hard as I could. I’d die swimming as I focused on the glowing dot of the ghost. I pushed and I struggled until there was no more wreck above me and I was floating up, up. I kicked hard, but I was hardly moving. It felt like I was pulling against my own weight. I stroked with everything I had, gasping as I broke the surface of the water.
Air!
I let the river carry me, floating on my back, sucking in oxygen.
A hand grabbed my arm and I let it. I couldn’t fight anymore.
Chapter 27
“Verity!” Ellis’s arm snaked in behind me, lifting my head and upper chest out of the water. “I’ve got you.”
I couldn’t believe I’d actually made it.
I blinked. Then I turned my head and coughed on him.
“Don’t try to say anything,” he ordered.
He swam to the bank with me, and I gave in to him. I let him take charge—until I saw Dave standing at the water’s edge.
“Ellis!” I kicked and struggled to get the words out of my raw, swollen throat. I had to warn Ellis.
“Calm down,” he urged, keeping a vise grip on me. “Mom’s got it.”
Virginia scrambled down the hill in the rain behind Dave. She called out to my would-be killer.
Dave turned, and Virginia pointed a pistol at his chest, the deadly intent on her face almost daring him to give her an excuse to shoot.
* * *
“Saved by the Wydells,” I said, tucking Melody’s wrap closer around my shoulders, watching Ellis hand Dave and Mary Jo Abel over to the Gatlinburg police. I’d been asked to stay on the train with the other passengers, which was fine by me. I couldn’t shake the chill of the river.
