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Sam felt a startling response to her unguarded look. He stiffened immediately. The blood in his veins turned cold.
“If you’ll excuse me, sir. I’d like to return to me seat.”
“When did you injure your leg?”
Her cold eyes spun back around to meet his, the freckles above her nose crinkled in obvious confusion. But more interestingly enough, fear danced in those eerily colored eyes. “I said I gone and hit it on me chair already.”
“No one else seemed to notice you injuring it,” he pointed out. “Come now, Ms. James, I hardly think you hit it hard enough to cause much trouble.”
Her expression grew stiff. “The Radford’s are not in the habit of noticing anything to do with me. The chair leg was made of iron and proved quite painful. If ye are so certain I am lying, Mr. Michalski, I suggest ye try hitting your own ankle upon it.”
He ignored that. “Is it possible the chair hit an old wound?”
She froze then. Her entire persona mirrored the coldness of her eyes. “Good day, Mr. Michalski.”
Just as she turned her back on him, he said, “You were right.”
Pausing, but not looking back, she waited for him to continue.
“I am searching for a woman.”
This time she did shoot him a glance over her shoulder. Her cold stone eyes held no sign of her internal thoughts. “And ye believe I’m her? Is that right?”
“Haven’t made up my mind yet.”
Her chin lifted slightly as she told him, “I can assure ye, that I am not.”
He tilted his head to one side and arched a brow. “Assure me? Now tell me, how is that possible? Since apparently you have no idea who I’m looking for, how can you be so certain it isn’t you?”
The smallest twitch in her forehead indicated his comment troubled her. She shifted her foot backwards as if to retreat. He held his stance, not making any attempt to follow, yet not wavering or breaking eye contact, and in the process silently letting her know she could no longer run.
“I can’t be of any assistance to ye, Mr. Michalski. I wish ye well in yer search.” Taking another shuffling step away from him, she said, “I am returning to me seat now. So, please, just leave me be.”
He allowed her to move three spaces before he said, “Ivy McGregor.”
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. A person would have thought the name hadn’t even registered, hadn’t struck a chord, however Sam wasn’t just anyone. Years of tracking down some of the country’s greatest outlaws had taught him a thing about reading and interpreting facial and body language.
This woman possessed a talent of her own. Being able to conceal her inner emotions was like watching a work of art for Sam. He’d brought in many criminals over the years, but not one had the ability to mask their emotions the way this one did. He reckoned she would have made one hell of a poker opponent.
However, she had underestimated Sam’s own abilities.
The tiniest flicker of her shoulder indicated the name had indeed hit a nerve. And he had found his woman.
“That’s the name of the woman I’m looking for,” he continued, but she did not respond. Instead, her pace only increased, her gait more awkward, causing the thin hips below her slim waist to shift with much pronunciation in her rush to escape. It also forced the curve of her little behind to protrude sweetly, and by doing so, revealed the notable limp she fo
ught to hide.
Sam leaned casually against the wall of the car and watched her disappear into the vestibule. He waited a few minutes after she’d gone before he pushed himself upright and went to take a seat in one of the many booths flanking the passenger car. His lunch forgotten. He was more tired than hungry. He had been on the road since early morning to arrive before the train’s hour of departure from Union Station.
Finding a seat, he dropped his tall frame down into it and crossed his legs at the ankles, then gave his Stetson a tug and pulled it low over his eyes. A couple more hours were left before they stopped at the Sudbury Junction. There was no need to apprehend her now. It would only cause commotion and fear in the rest of the passengers.
Most criminals were fairly harmless if their identity remained concealed. It was only after they had blown their cover that the threat of being arrested made them a risk.
Though he had let Ivy McGregor know he was aware of her identity, he didn’t feel she would be a threat to anyone on board the train. She was a tall frail looking woman, and hardly the image one associated with such a crime she was suspected of committing. And though Sam knew better than to judge actions based on appearances, he had no concerns about her fleeing. She wasn’t going anywhere until they reached the Junction. He might as well wait it out and catch some much needed rest.
He grinned suddenly, pulling the brim of his hat low over his brow. Hell, the woman could barely out walk him, let alone run. This would be one of his easiest captures.
* * *
