Ashlyn wasn’t budging. Not in body and not in heart.
But why her? Why did she warrant this special appearance? Everyone knew the train came always at night. Only at night. But this afternoon, evil had darkened the sky so it could appear before her.
“What do you want with me?” Her voice came out a little shaky, but it didn’t lack for volume. “Leave me alone! Leave us all alone.” By all of us, she meant Rachel, of course, but she didn’t even want to think her friend’s name in the presence of this monster. This evil sonofabitch who offered those deadly, damnable tickets to the most vulnerable souls in the village.
As if reading her thoughts, the conductor’s hand reached into his pocket. As slowly as before, as determinedly as before. Smiling as always, he produced a ticket. Its brilliant white glowed in his hand against the now-dark day.
“Is this what you’re so afraid of, Ashlyn Caverhill from Toronto?” His sleeve fell back from a skeletal wrist as he held the ticket high. “It’s a simple ticket. A simple way out of Podunk Junction, this miserable little village. It’s a ticket — oh I guarantee — away from the pain of this world.”
Ashlyn blanched. “But I know the real cost.”
“Oh, it’s not so much of a price for a tired, weary soul. A bargain, some would say. That’s what Patrick Murphy said, so many years ago. Didn’t you know that Ashlyn? How tired and how weary you made your father’s soul, even before he knew you? Even before you were born.” The conductor shook his head sadly. “All because of you.”
Ashlyn felt light headed, as if the cutting words the conductor spoke had drained the warm blood from her body. But it wasn’t just the words themselves that weakened her now. It was also his swirling voice. It held a depth. A mesmerizing one. Though he didn’t whisper, it was as if Ashlyn had to somehow reach for those words — reach into those smooth, silky syllables. She didn’t want to hear them! But she couldn’t tear herself away from those words he spoke — those heartbreaking words about her father and how he’d come on board the train all because of her. She couldn’t help but listen to the story she’d always longed to know, and the heartbreak she had to own.
“And even your mother would be better off without you,” he continued. “You know it, don’t you, Ashlyn Caverhill? You know the burden you’ve placed on her all these years. Why, even your grandmother didn’t want you. Didn’t she say as much?”
Ashlyn felt the tears stinging at the backs of her eyes and after the briefest moment, running down both her cheeks. She blinked through the tears. And through this watery haze she saw the shift in the conductor’s own gleefully glowing eyes. His head was bent even more now, as he looked down at her. Somehow she’d inched closer to the train as he’d hypnotically pulled her in. She struggled to pull in a long breath. Struggled to pull back from him as the conductor bent his body down. Oh, but the words he spoke, how they broke her—
“Ashlyn, don’t! He lies!”
The conductor snapped his head around as if a shot had been fired.
Again the warning voice cried out. “Snap out of it, Ashlyn! Run, baby girl! Run!”
The voice cried into Ashlyn’s consciousness. Leaping to her feet, she scuttled backward, her eyes glued to the train. But she forgot about the embankment. Seconds later, she was rolling and somersaulting toward the river’s edge. Clutching at the tall grass, the earth, anything she could, she managed to arrest her flight before landing in the river. Well, almost. One sneakered foot actually dipped into the cold rushing water as she lay there. Completely winded, her chest pumped like a landed fish in a futile bid for oxygen.
Gasping, lungs burning, she drew herself up onto her knees to look back up the hill.
The conductor glared down at her and roared his rage. He threw his head back and his bony fists flashed as he shrieked with madness. And the untaken ticket — oh sweet Jesus, the one her fingertips had been so close to grabbing — crumpled in his shaking grip. “I could have had her! This … this very day … this very one! The last of this cursed line!”
The train whistle shrilled to punctuate the conductor’s rage, the sound impossibly loud, rattling the hollow spaces inside her and drilling into her brain. Ashlyn clapped her hands to her ears, screwing her eyes shut against this new, sharp pain. Oh, God! The migraine had been nothing compared to this. It felt as though her eardrums — maybe her head itself — would explode from the whistle’s piercing pitch.
Then it finally stopped.
Ashlyn sucked in a breath — her lungs had decided to cooperate and let her inhale — and opened her eyes.
Yes! It was gone. The tracks stood empty.
But omigod, that had been so close. Waaaay too close. A fresh coating of sweat broke on her skin. Suddenly, she had a new respect for Rachel. Given all her troubles, given how badly she must want to escape them, how had she resisted the conductor so long? His words! His voice!
But Ashlyn had learned something here today. Something very important. Something that would make her stronger.
She climbed carefully to her feet, one foot squelching in her wet running shoe. The day had brightened again with cloud-buffered sunlight. Once more, she heard the call of birds. Her ears were no longer paining; even her headache was gone. And it was then that she became acutely aware of the pain in her hand. She examined the torn skin. Youch! That was nasty.
But it could have been worse. Infinitely worse.
Unbidden, the confrontation replayed in her mind. The sudden darkness, the shock of the train appearing out of nowhere, the conductor’s hateful words, the ticket…. And omigod, that other voice! The one that had called her name just in time to prevent her from reaching for that ticket.
It hadn’t come from up or down the tracks, nor from this riverbank. That voice had called to her from on board the train.
Ashlyn sank down again on the grass, pulling her knees up close to her chin. She sat there with her arms around her shaking legs, pulling calming breaths. Trying to wrap her frightened mind around what had almost happened.
And around what had happened.
That voice had saved her.
A voice she’d never actually heard before. At least, not before her consciousness had formed. Because she was pretty sure who owned that voice, who had called her baby girl.
Patrick Murphy.
The father she’d never known had just saved her soul.
And his was still on that damnable train that rolled through Prescott Junction.
Ashlyn put her hands on her head and cried.
Chapter 16
ASHLYN TOSSED HER PENCIL onto her desk and flopped down on her bed, then wished she hadn’t. Flopped, that is. Her muscles were already starting to stiffen up after her tumble this afternoon. But dammit, math homework? Which the now thoroughly despised Mr. Maggs had thoughtfully faxed to her grandmother’s machine out in the kennel office. For all he knew, she could still be blind with that migraine. What a dill.
But really? Homework? It seemed almost surreal.
Her mother was being kept sedated out of her mind in a psych ward, her dead father’s soul had been trapped on an evil ghost train for over 18 years, and her grandmother lived in fear of what the Caverhill supernatural radio might say next. Every time Ashlyn turned around, her new best friend tried to board the damned train, and Ashlyn herself had been stalked by that same evil conductor today in broad freakin’ daylight. It didn’t seem fair that she had to deal with all of that, plus do math homework too.
Whatever happened to having normal problems? Like resenting leaving her friends behind to come to a village that didn’t even have a cinema. Like the fact that her boyfriend’s family didn’t like her. Or even that Rachel was a cutter. Those were real problems. Heavy-duty problems. But they were not supernatural problems. Ashlyn longed to be that girl again, the one with the nice, normal, non-Twilight-Zone existence.
Outside the dogs barked a few times. Ashlyn lifted her head and listened, but they fell silent again almost immediately. Probably that l
ittle red squirrel again. Whenever it dashed from the cover of the old woodshed to the big oak tree on the corner of the lot or vice versa, the dogs liked to hurry it along with a chorus of barks. Then they shut up as soon as it disappeared. Or maybe it had been a deer stepping out of the woods. It was dusk now, just the time they liked to wander. If so, it likely stepped right back into the trees when it heard the dogs.
Ashlyn was just reaching for her math sheet again when she heard it, the small but unmistakable sound of branches scraping against her window.
Her first reaction was something along the lines of omigod omigod omigod, he found me again! Then she got a grip. She truly believed the conductor couldn’t leave his train, and his train couldn’t leave the tracks. He certainly was not in the tree outside her window. But something sure as hell was. A raccoon, maybe? A porcupine?
Not wanting to frighten it, she crossed quietly to the window and drew the curtain back slowly. And there standing on a large branch in her grandmother’s maple was Rachel Riley.
Ashlyn snorted a laugh, then opened the window as high as it would go.
“Rachel, what are you doing out there?”
“You know.” She reached for a higher branch and swung herself out into empty space. “Just hanging.”
Ashlyn’s heart leapt into her throat as her friend dangled a story and a half above the ground, with nothing but her grip on that single branch to support her. “God, Rachel! Get your feet under you again before you give me a heart attack.”
Rachel obligingly felt for the branch below with her feet and pushed herself back in close to the tree’s trunk again. Ashlyn let her breath escape.
“We do have a front door. It’s like magic. All you have to do is knock on it and someone will open it.”
Rachel bit her lip. “I don’t want Maudette to see me.”
If Ashlyn’s heart had pounded when her friend swung from that limb, it was nothing compared to the jolt it took at those words. “Why? What’s the matter, Rach?”
“You think maybe I could come in there to have this conversation? I’m feeling a little … what’s the expression? … out on a limb.”
That was so Rachel. Clearly upset, yet she could make a joke of it.
“Okay,” Ashlyn said, “but I’m guessing it’s much easier getting out this window than back in it. I’m no whiz at physics, but I’m not sure those branches will support you all the way over here.” She chewed the inside of her lip a second. “We need a safety rope.”
“Gee, sorry. Don’t seem to have one on me.”
Ain’t that the truth. Poor Rachel didn’t have anything in her life that resembled a safety rope. Unless it was her and Caden. If she’d let them, that is. “Wait here.”
Ashlyn tore the top sheet off her bed and was back in seconds. “This’ll have to do.” She started twirling it into a thin — okay, thinish — rope.
Rachel eyed it. “You sure this is a good idea, Ash? What if the branch collapses and I pull you headfirst out that window?”
“Hey, I may be no physics whiz, but I’m not an idiot either. I’m tying the other end to the bedpost. All the same, I’d prefer it if you don’t fall. If you do, I’ll never get these knots untied and how would I explain that to Maudette?”
“Forget about the knots. How would you explain the thump against her house and the loud Ooof! I make when it knocks the wind out of me?”
The phone rang downstairs and both girls paused, waiting to see if Maudette was going to call Ashlyn to the phone. After a moment of hearing nothing but Maudette’s muffled voice, Ashlyn relaxed. This was good. If her grandmother was on the phone, maybe she wouldn’t hear them if it didn’t go perfectly smoothly.
“Okay,” Ashlyn said. “Inch your way over here a bit and I’ll toss you the end.”
Rachel missed it on the first try, but snagged it the second time. There was length enough for her to wrap it several times around her wrist before closing her fist around it.
“Perfect,” Ashlyn said. “Now come on over.”
The limb bent and groaned under Rachel’s slim weight, but it held long enough for her to launch herself toward the window and catch the sill. Once she was supporting a bit of her weight with her arms, the branch became much more agreeable. Rachel easily climbed inside.
“That was fun!”
“Yeah, now that you’re safe, it was—” Her words trailed off as she got her first good look at Rachel’s face. “Omigod, Rach! Your cheek.” Once more, it was swollen and livid, just as ugly as last time. But Arch Riley was locked up. Mandatory jail time. How had she ended up like this again? A boy from school? She had a sudden flash of that jerk Brian Caldwell. “Who did this to you, Rachel? I’ll kill him!” Unless it wasn’t a him…. “It’s not your mother, is it?”
“My mother?” Rachel laughed, but it came out more as a sob. “China dolls don’t do the breaking; they just get broken themselves. Then they hide the pieces. Or try to.”
“Then who? Your dad’s locked up….”
“Not any more.”
“Ashlyn?” Maudette’s raised voice came from downstairs. Both girls froze.
“Yeah?” Ashlyn called back, her eyes never leaving Rachel.
“I’ve got to run out for a bit. A first-time breeder having a bit of a freak out.”
“No problem. Take your time,” Ashlyn called back.
“You … you know what to do while I’m gone, right? If the radio comes on?”
“I know. The kennel.”
Ashlyn heard the jingle of Maudette’s car keys. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“’Kay.”
The girls held their breath until the door opened and closed. A moment later, Maudette’s Dogmobile fired up and she rolled out of the driveway.
“Okay, now what’s this about your father being out?” Ashlyn turned back to Rachel. “I thought you said he was going to jail, that the sheriff and the judge wouldn’t have any choice about it.”
Rachel waved a hand. “A technicality. Apparently this particular Breathalyzer machine had not received proper and timely maintenance. Or if it had, the records mysteriously disappeared.”
“So they just let him go?”
“They’re giving him a ticket for careless driving. How do you like that? He’ll get a fine, and he’ll have to pay restitution for the hydro pole. That’s it.”
“What?”
“Yeah. From a criminal offense carrying a mandatory jail sentence to a traffic violation, just like that. And all because a maintenance log went missing.”
Ashlyn’s mind raced. “He could still go to jail, for what he’s doing to you. If you would just report him.”
Rachel scoffed. “Ain’t gonna happen.”
“But Rach, you have to! You can’t keep letting him get away with this.”
“Ashlyn, honey, he used to be one of them. A cop. He was given the opportunity to take early retirement eight years ago because of the drinking, but he still has friends here and there. How do you imagine that maintenance log disappeared?”
“But—”
“But nothing. God, if anyone hears about that, every conviction obtained with the aid of that particular Breathalyzer unit could be challenged. Convictions could be overturned and the slate wiped clean for God knows how many impaired drivers. If they’re prepared to go to those lengths to keep their ex-cop buddy Arch Riley from doing a couple months easy time in the county jail, what makes you think they won’t do worse to keep him from doing much harder time for assault?”
They were silent for a moment while the magnitude of Rachel’s situation sank in. Ashlyn could see it all too easily, Arch Riley’s defense attorney pecking away at Rachel on the witness stand, destroying her credibility. Her carefully cultivated reputation as a witch, her strange mode of dress, her alienation, the cutting. Yes, they’d uncover the cutting, and probably the fact that she roamed at night. They’d portray her as troubled, self-destructive, the author of her own misfortune.
“Oh, God, i
t would feel so good to cut myself right now.”
Ashlyn’s chest squeezed painfully when she heard those words. Finally, Rachel was talking about the bad stuff. All of it. Her father’s abuse, her mother’s inability to help, and now the self-harm. She’d said it out loud and there was no taking any of it back. Ashlyn knew how much that must have cost her friend.
“I can just imagine,” she said. “I’ve known so many kids who cut themselves. Girls, guys. Some because it was the only way they could feel anything, and some to help them cope with massive anger. But mostly it was just to let the pain out.”
“Oh, and it works,” Rachel whispered. “It works so well.”
Ashlyn had wanted to hug Rachel since the moment she’d seen her swollen face, but had held back. Rachel was not what you’d call touchy-feely. But when she said that, Ashlyn stepped close and hugged her anyway. Thankfully, Rachel hugged back.
“Of course it works.” Ashlyn stroked the dark hair hanging down Rachel’s back, not knowing what else to do. “That’s why it’s addictive. That’s why people abuse alcohol and drugs, too. Because it works. Unfortunately, it only works in the short term. But you know that, don’t you? That’s why you’re here. That’s why you didn’t cut yourself tonight.”
“Yet.” Rachel pulled back, wiping her eyes.
“Why not go for all night?” Ashlyn sat down on the edge of her bed and patted the spot beside her. “This can be Day 1 of not cutting.”
“Hey, it’s not like I do it every day.”
“I know,” Ashlyn said. “Just the bad days.”
Rachel joined her on the bed. The both sat there looking at their shoes.
“By the way,” Ashlyn said, “I owe you the world’s biggest apology.”
“Yeah?”
“The train, the conductor … I really had no idea how hard it must have been for you over these years to resist his pull. But I do now. I’m sorry for ever thinking you were weak, even for a moment.”
Rachel’s head whipped around. “What do you mean you know? What did you do, Ashlyn Caverhill?”
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