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A feeling of exhaustion came over him and he visibly allowed himself to relax. He had headed straight to Toronto from Buffalo earlier that morning on a tip she was spotted crossing the border near the majestic Niagara Falls three months before. Fanciful rumor had circulated about her drowning at the mouth of the falls, but Sam hadn’t bought it. It always amazed him how fast rumors were created and stretched far from the actual truth.
The overhead lights flickered, then burned themselves out for the night, throwing him into complete darkness. Crossing his arms over his chest, he tilted his head back against the window and closed his eyes.
* * *
Ivy’s eyes watered as she bent over and heaved up her stomach’s content all over the plank flooring in the baggage car. Something she couldn’t seem to stop herself from doing since she boarded this god-awful contraption on wheels.
It was an accustomed response. One she often received after a vicious panic attack, or when she found herself trapped in small quarters. Such as the one she found herself in now.
Her head felt light as she straightened and lifted her locked wrists to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. In the darkness, she sought out her surroundings, trying to orient herself. Hands trembling, she stretched her arms out into the darkness trying to feel her way around. Perhaps there was a window somewhere.
God, she prayed there was a window somewhere.
Several failed attempts at trying to locate one later, she felt her stomach begin to tighten. Not again. Rubbing her hands down her stomach, she bid the nausea from rising. There were no snakes, no rats, no slimy water waiting to engulf her. She was safe. Wasn’t she?
Her thoughts drifted immediately to the man on the opposite side of the door. Who was he? What did he want? Had Mr. Hendrickson followed through with his threat? Where were the Radford’s? Had they abandoned her after Sam Michalski informed them of her true identity?
The answer to this last question came swift. Like everyone else in her past, they had deserted her when she needed them
most.
For the umpteenth time in her life, Ivy learned there wasn’t a sole she could count on. No one she could trust. All she had in this world was herself. And if she wanted to avoid returning to Chicago, then it was up to her, and her only, to ensure the man with the golden eyes did not succeed in dragging her back.
* * *
Something woke Sam. Feeling slightly disoriented, he blinked, trying to gather his bearings. It was then that he realized the car he was sitting in was bucking and rocking terribly.
He sat bolt upright. Something was wrong. Then suddenly there was a loud screeching sound from beneath the train that pierced his ear drums. In the next moment his body was tossed freely into the air and with a hard thud, he hit the far side of the car. His head made contact with the iron table across the aisle. A reeling pain seared a path from the back of his head to the front. He blinked hard, trying to clear the wooziness in his brain and the burning red ooze flowing down his temple.
From a far distance, he heard a low rumbling sound like thunder. It grew louder as it rolled its way down the fleet of cars toward the back where Sam was located. Then all at once the darkness was lit up like fireworks. A scorching shower of lights filled the car.
What the hell was happening? But before Sam could think of a coherent answer, the lights went out and Sam was thrown into an unconsciousness blackness.
Chapter 4
When Sam woke once more, it was still dark, but everything had gone completely quiet. And still. The train no longer moving.
Confused, he went to sit up, then groaned out loud from the pain in his head. Reaching up, he felt the top of his scalp and felt something wet and gooey. He didn’t need light to recognize the feel of blood.
Exhaling a breath, he pushed himself to his feet, but came into contact with the ceiling of the car. Wait a minute, why was the ceiling so low? Grimacing, he squatted uncomfortably and tried to focus in the dark to orient himself. The ceiling had somehow fallen and the chairs in that particular corner had sandwiched together enclosing Sam within the compartment.
Getting down on his belly, he went to crawl out from beneath what looked like the iron table he had hit his head on earlier, except it now was a twisted and mangled piece of steel. Placing his weight on his shoulder, he attempted to crawl out. He ignored a throbbing pain in his arm and pushed forward. Immediately, his hands scraped against something sharp lying across the floor.
“Jesus!” he cried out as it cut through the callused skin of his palm.
Broken glass covered the floor. He lifted his hand and shifted forward on his elbows until at last he broke free from beneath the tangled metal which had imprisoned him. Finally able to sit up fully, he stuck his hand into the side pocket of his vest and felt around for matches. With a simple flick against his denim clad pant leg, it lit up.
Sam’s brows came down hard as he took in what he saw. The car was completely crushed. Chairs and tables had broken free of their fastenings from the floor. Shattered windows permitted the chilly night air. Shutters flapped silently in the night breeze. The smell of death swarmed around him. It was an old familiar smell. One he recognized right away.
And the silence. No screams. No crying. No pleas for help.
Instinctively, his head spun around toward the baggage car. The flame on his match burned down to his finger, singing the skin there and dousing the light. But before it had, he saw it. The door to the baggage car had been so severely crushed it popped right off its hinges. Reaching inside his vest once again, he lit another match and held it up. The gaping hole where the door once stood, looked like a big black abyss waiting ominously for him.
He shivered from an early morning blast of cold September wind. Struggling, he pressed forward. Within there he would find the body of Ivy McGregor. And he would deliver it back to Chicago. Not merely for the sake of collecting his reward, but to give the Hendrickson’s closure.
Sam crawled over to the opening and paused just outside the entrance. A breeze from within swept past him, carrying with it the smell of vomit. He cringed slightly, then held up the match. Crates and luggage scattered the interior of the baggage car. She wasn’t visible from where he kneeled, so he crawled through the web of chaos, pushing large trunks out of his way as he went, fully expecting to find her flattened beneath the heavy luggage. Instead, there was no one there.
Frowning, he pushed his hair out of his eyes and paused to catch his breath. The crash must have left him more winded than he realized. About to push forward, a tiny reflection of light flickered and caught his eye. Tilting his head, he peered through the heap and recognized what it was. Handcuffs. They lay abandoned on the floor of the car.
