Chương 2
Helen shifted immediately, putting herself between Mercer and the children.
“Mr. Mercer,” she said, “this car is private.”
“I’m aware.”
“You weren’t invited aboard.”
Mercer looked past her at Richard.
Helen followed his eyes.
Margaret did too.
Richard said nothing.
That was answer enough.
“You called him?” Margaret asked.
Richard’s jaw tightened.
“I called for security when two unidentified children were brought into our car in the middle of a storm.”
“You called him before you knew who they were?”
Richard did not answer.
Mercer removed his gloves one finger at a time.
“The station master contacted our office,” he said. “We were already in the area.”
Noah whispered, “He was following Dad.”
Mercer’s hands stopped.
The younger security man looked at him.
Margaret heard the small change in the room. It was nothing visible. Just the instant when one version of events lost its monopoly.
She turned to Noah.
“When?”
“Today.”
Mercer said, “Mrs. Whitmore, the children are cold and frightened. This isn’t the place to question them.”
Margaret felt a surprising urge to laugh.
Not because anything was funny.
Because men had been telling her what the place was for most of her life.
Boardrooms were not the place.
Funerals were not the place.
Christmas dinners were not the place.
Hospital corridors were not the place.
Her own bedroom, on more than one occasion, had apparently not been the place.
She folded Daniel’s envelope once against her palm.
“No,” she said. “This seems to be exactly the place.”
Mercer glanced at Richard again.
“Sir.”
Richard looked tired suddenly.
Not guilty.
Not yet.
Old.
“Martin, wait in the next car.”
Mercer did not move.
Margaret noticed that too.
Richard noticed that she noticed.
“I said wait in the next car.”
“Mr. Whitmore, we need to secure certain materials.”
“What materials?” Margaret asked.
Mercer looked at the envelope.
There it was.
No disguise this time.
Margaret stepped backward until the backs of her knees touched an emerald sofa. She sat, not from weakness but because Ellie was trembling so hard that the rabbit’s ear shook.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
Ellie looked at Noah.
Noah nodded.
The little girl moved toward Margaret in two uncertain steps. Margaret opened her coat and drew her against her side. Ellie smelled like wet wool, snow, and the faint sweetness of children’s shampoo.
Her boots left gray water on the carpet.
Normally Margaret would have noticed.
She did notice.
She simply did not care.
“Is your name Ellie?”
A nod.
“How old are you?”
Four fingers appeared.
The thumb stayed tucked beneath the rabbit.
Margaret touched the edge of Ellie’s hood but did not pull it back.
“Are you hurt?”
Ellie shook her head.
“Cold?”
Another nod.
Helen crossed to the brass cabinet where the staff kept blankets and pulled out two cashmere throws.
Mercer said, “We should move them to the SUV. There’s a medical kit.”
“No.”
Margaret had not raised her voice.
Mercer looked at her.
She draped one blanket around Ellie and held out the other to Noah.
“No one takes these children anywhere.”
“Margaret,” Richard said.
“No.”
“We don’t know the circumstances.”
“I know my son’s handwriting.”
“That doesn’t make this safe.”
She looked at him.
“Safe for whom?”
The train gave a heavy lurch.
Mercer caught the back of a chair.
Noah stumbled, and Helen steadied him by one elbow. Outside, the SUV’s headlights remained fixed in the storm, shining against the lower panels of the observation-car windows.
A conductor appeared in the doorway.
He was in his fifties, broad through the shoulders, with a silver nameplate reading CALDWELL. His face carried the patient exhaustion of someone who had already solved ten problems nobody aboard would ever hear about.
“Mrs. Whitmore?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll be held here another few minutes. Ice buildup on a switch ahead. I’ve asked our onboard medic to come back for the children.”
“Thank you.”
Caldwell’s eyes moved to Mercer and his companion.
“These gentlemen came through from the platform.”
“They’re leaving,” Margaret said.
Mercer started, “Mrs. Whitmore—”
Caldwell looked at Richard.
Richard hesitated.
It was perhaps two seconds.
Margaret counted both.
Then he said, “They can wait in the service vestibule.”
Mercer’s mouth flattened.
“Sir, that’s not advisable.”
Richard’s voice hardened.
“Do it.”
The younger man obeyed first.
Mercer stayed long enough to look at Noah.
The boy stared back from beneath his dark knit hat.
“Your father made a serious mistake,” Mercer said.
Noah’s fingers closed around the blanket.
Margaret rose.
“Get out.”
Mercer’s expression barely changed.
He turned and followed the other man through the door.
Helen locked it behind them.
For a few seconds, the observation car contained only five people and the unfinished Christmas Eve they had been having before two freezing children arrived from nowhere.
Margaret looked toward the dining table.
There were still two desserts there.
Richard’s flourless chocolate cake had a single bite missing. Her pear tart was untouched. A white candle burned between them. The ridiculous intimacy of it made her angry.
Twenty minutes earlier Richard had been complaining about the wine.
He had said the Burgundy was too young.
She had told him nobody had ever died from drinking a Burgundy six years before its ideal maturity.
Richard had smiled.
Now their son was alive.
Margaret sat again.
Her hands were shaking.
She placed the envelope on her lap.
Richard took a breath.
“Before you read it, you need to understand that Daniel may not be in his right mind.”
Noah said, “My dad isn’t crazy.”
Richard looked at him.
Margaret saw recognition now that she knew to look for it.
Not surprise at resemblance.
Recognition.
“How long?” she asked.
Richard said nothing.
“How long have you known about Noah?”
The boy’s eyes moved between them.
Richard glanced at the floor.
Margaret felt something cold settle beneath the anger.
“How long?”
“Several years.”
Noah went very still.
Margaret stared at her husband.
May you like
“You knew I had a grandson.”
Richard’s voice softened in a way that made her hate him more.
