Chapter 3

Union Station was a chaotic swirl of holiday travelers. I saw Wendy before she saw me. She was standing by the departure board, bouncing on the balls of her feet, a greedy, triumphant smirk on her face. She thought she' d won.

"Gabby!" she squealed when she spotted me, rushing over to give me a hug that felt like a cage. "I am so, so, so relieved! Your parents are the absolute sweetest! I was dreading that coach seat."

"I' m glad it worked out," I said, pulling away.

Her eyes darted to my ticket in my hand. Before I could react, she snatched my phone from my other hand. "Let me see the confirmation! I want to see our cabin number so I can find it right away!"

She didn' t even pretend it was our cabin. It was hers.

"Wendy, give that back," I said, my voice sharp.

"Just a sec!" she chirped, her fingers flying across the screen, pulling up the e-ticket. "Cabin 12B! Got it! I' m going to run ahead and get settled. Save you a spot!"

She winked, then disappeared into the crowd heading for the boarding gate, my phone still in her hand.

I just smiled. Let her run. Let her claim her prize.

I took my time, stopping to buy a bottle of water and a magazine. I wanted to give her plenty of time to get comfortable. To feel secure in her victory.

When I finally boarded the train and made my way to car 12, I could hear her voice from down the hall. She was talking to the conductor, a kindly-looking older man with a gray mustache.

"Yes, my friend Gabrielle and I are sharing this cabin," she was saying, her voice full of sweet reason. "We agreed to split the cost, but she' s been acting a little strange today. I' m sure she' ll be along any minute."

I stepped into the doorway. Wendy was already sprawled out on the lower bunk, her shoes kicked off, her coat and bag thrown onto the upper bunk as if to claim the entire space. She had my phone plugged into the outlet by the bed.

She gave me a wide, innocent smile. "Oh, there you are, Gabby! I was just telling the conductor here how we' re sharing."

The conductor looked from her to me, a hint of confusion on his face. "Ma' am, this ticket is for a single occupant."

"Oh, that' s just a formality," Wendy said, waving a dismissive hand. "We' re best friends. We do everything together."

Right on cue, the door to the adjacent cabin, 12A, slid open. A large, greasy-looking man in a trucker hat leaned out. It was him. Barney Lester. His eyes, small and predatory, scanned me up and down. My breath caught in my throat. Seeing him again, alive and real, sent a jolt of pure ice through my veins.

"Hey now, what' s all the fuss?" Barney drawled, his voice a gravelly rumble that I remembered from my nightmares. "Sounds like you ladies are having a little disagreement."

Wendy' s face lit up. He was a new piece on the board, another person to manipulate.

"Oh, it' s nothing," she said, sighing dramatically. "My friend here is just being a little... difficult. We agreed to share this cabin to save money, and now she' s trying to back out. I was so naive to pay her my half in cash already."

She was a brilliant liar. Effortless.

The conductor looked at me, his expression hardening. "Ma' am, is this true?"

Barney chimed in, stepping closer. The smell of stale cigarettes and sweat filled the narrow corridor. "Yeah, don' t be like that, little lady. Your friend looks tired. If you' re gonna be stingy with your bed, she can always come rest in my cabin. I got plenty of room."

He gave me a leering grin, the same one he gave me before he killed me.

It was all happening again. The same people, the same words, the same trap.

But this time, I was ready.

I looked at Wendy, sprawled on my bed, and then at Barney, the killer from my past. I felt a strange sense of calm. I had seen this play before, and I knew exactly how it ended.

I glanced at my watch. Two hours and forty-five minutes since she drank that coffee.

Any second now.

Wendy was still talking, laying the guilt on thick for the conductor and her new friend Barney. "I just don' t understand why she' s being so cruel. We' re supposed to be like sisters..."

And then it happened.

Her face went pale. A low gurgle echoed from deep within her. Her eyes widened in horror.

She clutched her stomach, a look of pure, unadulterated panic washing over her features.

"Oh," she squeaked.

Another, much louder, more liquid sound erupted from her. It was a wet, explosive squelch that silenced the entire corridor.

She let out a strangled cry, half-moan, half-gasp. Her hand flew to her rear, but it was too late. A dark, foul-smelling stain was already blooming on the back of her light-colored pants.

The stench hit us a second later. It was horrific.

Wendy' s face contorted in a mask of agony and humiliation. She shot up from the bed, stumbling over her own feet.

"Bathroom!" she shrieked, and then she was gone, sprinting down the corridor, leaving a series of small, foul puddles in her wake.

The conductor and Barney stared after her, their mouths agape in disgust.

I calmly stepped into my cabin. I picked up Wendy' s coat and bag from the upper bunk and tossed them out into the hallway. I unplugged my phone and slipped it into my pocket.

Then, I sat down on my bed. My bed.

The conductor, recovering from the shock, wrinkled his nose. "Good lord. I' ll... I' ll get someone to clean that up." He looked at me, his eyes now full of sympathy. "I' m sorry you had to deal with that, miss."

"Thank you," I said politely. "I think the situation has resolved itself."

Barney was still staring down the hall, a look of pure disgust on his face. His "friendly" offer seemed to have evaporated along with the contents of Wendy' s bowels.

I leaned back against the pillows, a small, cold smile on my face.

Checkmate.