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She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply the crisp but fresh breeze. It caused the tendrils of hair along her temples to flap like a pair of wings. If only she could slip out of the cramped cubicle and take flight.
“Good heavens, that feels much better,” Allison Radford declared, relaxing her head against the upholstered headrest of her seat, while her husband mumbled something in concurrence. It was amazing how the Radford’s continually fell under hot spells. And in unison. Even in the dead of winter.
Taking her seat between Allison Radford and the window, she ignored the fact she wore less clothing than the madam. Truth was, she didn’t particularly like the small confines of the train compartment either. The cool air on her face felt refreshing.
And free.
“These next few days will be undeniably troublesome. We must speak to the porter about improving the conditions of this compartment.” Her madam was saying. “My allergies are reacting horribly to this filthy dust.”
She ran a finger over the armrest of her seat, then turned it upside right as if expecting to come away with a layer of dirt. As it was, it came away clear. Brushing her hands together nevertheless, she shrugged in disgust before leaning back into her seat.
“Perhaps if you had adhered to my suggestion to have taken a boat for the first half of our journey to Calgary, we wouldn’t have had to endure such conditions,” Harold commented, bringing up not for the first time since they embarked on this excursion, the same argument over mode of transportation.
“Don’t speak of such lunacy. You know right well my legs are not meant for the sea,” Allison reminded him.
“I hardly believe the Great Lakes constitute as the sea.”
“And I hardly see the difference. One enormous body of water is the same as the next.”
Harold sighed. “At any rate, we will make better time via the train. We should be arriving in Calgary in six days’ time. The express has a wonderful reputation of being punctual.”
“Well, I certainly hope the food makes up for the poor quality of air,” Allison said before releasing a violent shiver. “Moira, for pity’s sakes, do shut that blasted window. The wind is blowing the dust everywhere.”
As instructed, she stood and shut out the small token of fresh air. Her cheeks had gone slightly numb from the chilly breeze gushing through the small opening, yet she couldn’t stop the feeling of despair as she latched it shut.
Sitting back down, she turned and stared out of the glass and watched as the bustling city rushed past until gradually it dropped off from the horizon. All that remained were endless amounts of trees and the odd farmer’s field.
Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the stale compartment air. At the least she was grateful for the over-sized window. The small pigeonhole she was confined to for the several days, was already beginning to feel tight. The walls flanking her felt as if they were closing in. A familiar nausea stirred her stomach. However, she had learned if she concentrated and worked real hard, she could still the feeling of panic rising up her chest.
* * *
Sam moved through the corridors between compartments toward the dining car. It had been nearly four hours since the train left Union Station. He hadn’t seen the copper-haired woman again since boarding. Not for breakfast and not anywhere else on the train. Several times he had strolled past her compartment, but the only occupants were a stiff looking gentleman and a woman donning the most ridiculous hat.
The dark-cloaked woman was nowhere to be seen. It was as if she had vanished completely.
Not that Sam was worried. After all, there was nowhere for her to go apart from jumping from a moving locomotive.
“Excuse me, sir.” A rather robust porter had opened the one side of the vestibule and proceeded to pass Sam.
Sam moved aside, but paused to ask, “Can you tell me when our next stop is?”
“That would be the Sudbury Junction, sir.”
“How long until then?”
The porter removed a pocket watch from his vest. “Not for another four hours, unfortunately. Once there, however, we will be stopping for a fifteen minute break if you care to stretch your legs.”
“Do you happen to know if there is a law enforcement office in town?”
“I’m afraid not. Sudbury Junction is located approximately six miles northeast of the city in the outskirts. However, the depot can wire a message to the Sudbury police station if required.”
Sam gave a curt nod. “Thanks.”
Sam relaxed then, knowing he had plenty of time to find his suspect, obtain a proper identification, and then haul her tiny little ass off to the closest law enforcement. He would have his prisoner apprehended long before this train ever crossed over into the Canadian Shield.
He made his way into one of the first sleeping cars that housed six private compartments and came across the one where he had last seen his suspect enter. Not surprisingly, it was empty. Hopefully, that meant she had joined the rest of the passengers in the dining car for lunch.
He wasn’t pleased about confronting her in the crowded dining car. His questioning could spark suspicion. Both from her or the other passengers. He didn’t want to cause an uproar. From past experiences, he found spectators proved more nuisance than not.
