Page 88 of With a Vengeance

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Seamus says.

“Why not?”

Seamus grabs her by the hand and pulls her away. Anna, in turn, reaches for Dante. He clasps her hand, his palm warm, his grip tight. They move first into Car 12 and then Car 13, with Anna caught between the two men, pulled along by one, pulling the other. In this awkward manner, they head to the middle of the corridor. There, Seamus gestures to the open door of Room B.

Edith’s room.

“That’s why not,” Seamus says.

Anna lets go of both men and enters the room, tiptoeing deeper inside until she sees what he’s referring to.

There, crammed into the tiny bathroom, is the corpse of JuddDodge.

5 a.m.

Three Hours toChicago

Thirty-Nine

“Is this somekind of sick joke?” Dante says, blinking in disbelief at the body in front of them.

“If it is, I didn’t do it,” Seamus says.

“I wasn’t accusing you.”

Seamus gives a disdainful sniff. “Sounded like you were to me.”

Anna tunes out the bickering and steps into the bathroom, standing over Judd Dodge. He’s slumped across the toilet seat, one arm trapped beneath his head, the hand dangling limply. The other arm is flopped in front of him, fingertips scraping the floor. His legs are curled beneath him, bent like a contortionist. An undignified pose for a man who abandoned all sense of dignity a dozen years ago.

“Maybe he’s been dead the entire time,” Dante suggests. “And someone moved the body?”

“Or maybe he’s still alive,” Anna says, lowering herself until her gaze is level with Judd’s wide-open eyes. Staring into them, she looks for a flicker of life. There’s nothing. His pupils are empty pools.

Just to make sure, she presses two fingers against his neck, almost recoiling at the sensation. Although his skin still retains some warmth, there’s no pulse behind it.

“Nothing,” she announces.

“So he’s really dead?” Seamus says.

“Yes, but for how long? Just because he’s dead now doesn’t mean he was earlier.”

Anna continues to study the body, convinced she’s missing something. Once again, she replays Judd’s presumed last moments in her head. Yawning, checking the time,notdrinking. Revisiting those seconds makes something click in her brain.

She shoves a hand into Judd’s coat pocket, finding his watch. Opening the lid, she takes a long, close look. There, gathered in the rim of the watch face, are several small crystals of powder. She leans in, sniffs, detects the same sharp, chemical smell she’d noticed both in Judd’s martini glass and the box of rat poison in the galley.

“It’s poison,” she says.

“I’ll be damned,” Seamus says. “You think he killed himself?”

“Not quite.”

Anna tilts her head until she’s face-to-face with Judd’s body. Then she pulls down his bottom jaw and peers into his gaping mouth.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dante says, aghast.

Ignoring him, Anna shoves the same fingers she’d earlier held against Judd’s neck into his mouth. This time, shedoesrecoil. Her stomach enacts a nauseated somersault as she wills herself to probe the inside of Judd’s mouth. His teeth are covered in a warm, sticky slime that gathers on her fingertips, and each touch of his gums sends a foul stench wafting from between his lips.

It is, Anna realizes, the smell of death.

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