Thirty-Eight

When we reached Car 3, the employee car, I made an excuse about needing to run back to the dining car for some water. It was too late anyway to intercept the conductor and come up with an excuse for why I’d been in Doghn’s room. Given that, I might as well jump fully into the investigation. The sooner the murder was solved and Aimee was found, the sooner I could be done with Doghn. And I very much wanted to be done with Doghn.

I also wanted to search Reed’s bunk. Terry was a pot stealer at best, but more likely an undercover cop, specifically DEA. Doghn was a weird little hoarder and maybe a murderer. But what was Reed, besides in the wrong place at the wrong time, and with frequency? I wanted to like the guy. He was funny and helpful and smart. He had also been in the hallway the night Sofia Ramos was murdered and Aimee and her dad disappeared, and he had something weird going on with Sylvester. He definitely had the access to murder someone on a train. I wanted to find out if he also had a motive.

Doghn continued through the staff car and toward the conductor’s office. I pretended to turn back toward the dining car but flipped back around as soon as I heard the door close behind me. If anyone was in employee Car 3, they were asleep or having some serious quiet time. It was impossible to tell which tubes were empty, however, as the door to every honeycomb bunk was closed. I stepped to Reed’s bunk. It was chest level, second from the bottom, fourth from the left. Reed Ryan read the slip of paper, with a New York address scribbled under the name.

I didn’t knock. If he wasn’t in there, I might wake up someone who was sleeping. If he was in there, I was screwed either way. The door opened out, which surprised me. It was not any bigger than a cookie sheet, and for a chilling moment, I became aware how much these cubbies resembled body drawers in a morgue. It was an efficient use of space, whether the body was alive or dead, but it was still creepy as all get out.

I peeked in, a cool wash of relief accompanying the realization that it was empty. The second thing I noticed was how neat the bunk was. An ambient light bathed everything in a green glow. The bed was made to military standard. There was a shelf running the length of each side of it, but both were empty. The three cupboards lining the right side were closed. This meant I’d need to crawl in to see what they contained.

Looking around first, I hoisted my foot onto the handle of the bunk below, cleverly designed for exactly that purpose. I was about to lift myself off the ground when the door to my left slid open and Reed walked in. Of course. I had the luck of the Irish when it came into breaking into people’s stuff.

Reed was a cool cucumber. Rather than speak, he stopped, watching me. His face was expressionless. Mine felt very hand-in-the-cookie jar. I tried to unscrew that expression and replace it with “relaxed,” but it snapped back to “guilty” every time.

“There you are,” I said. Remember: when in doubt, state the obvious. “I was looking for you.”

He continued his silence, his brown eyes steady. His calmness was unnerving.

“I was wondering when the train was going to move again.”

He crossed his arms. “Tomorrow. For sure.”

I was impressed by his self-control. He wasn’t wasting any words asking me why I was invading his privacy. I closed the door to his bunk, grateful he hadn’t caught me bumper-end out like Pooh in the hunny jar.

“Excellent.” I squared up to face him. I wanted him to stop looking at me like that, as if he’d just made an important and unpleasant discovery about me. “If that’s true, I think you all should open up the stores rather than have them wait for scheduled times. Get people well-fed and happy. There’s some mutiny brewing in those cars.”

I nodded toward the other end of the train, but he didn’t follow my gaze. Rather, he inspected me from foot to head, as if seeing me for the first time. It was a clinical stare, the examination of a surgeon wondering what body part to slice into first. My stomach was splashed with sour, and it suddenly felt very, very urgent that I find Aimee. If she was on this train, and this train was about to move, she was in extreme danger. The air was thick with bad things afoot.

“Did you hear me?” I puffed myself up, feeling my blood begin to boil. All extreme emotions, even fear, lead to anger for me. It’s a good reaction in the wild, less useful when dealing with humans. “People are getting upset out there. A passenger in the viewing car broke into the liquor. If the staff at least pretends you’re on their side, you can hold off a riot until we move again.”

He nodded slowly. It didn’t seem to be a reaction to my words. Rather, he had made up his mind about something. “We’re on it. In fact, I was just coming to speak to the conductor for approval to set up a buffet in each car. Limited beverages, unlimited food.”

“Perfect. Good. Glad to hear it. And glad I found you.” It took all my willpower to turn, exposing my back to him, and march toward the conductor’s office. As I strode forward, I heard a ticking sound, ever so gentle, completely relentless, counting down on Aimee’s life.