Page 61 of A Storm in Every Heart
“Wait,” Jett says, “slow down.”
“Don’t fucking start?—”
“I care about Dessa too, but just look at this for a second.” He gestures toward the man’s pockets, which are turned out. “Whoever did this was obviously after money or valuables.”
“What makes you say that?” I ask through gritted teeth, anger and impatience making my stomach churn.
He stands up and pokes his head into another open compartment. “The compartments all show obvious signs of hasty looting: drawers yanked out, brass fixtures missing.”
“Why the fuck would anyone take the fixtures?”
Jett laughs hollowly. “When you say shit like that you’re advertising that you’ve never been poor.”
I bare my teeth. “I was in Dyaspora just like you.”
“Yeah, but before I mean. It’s obvious you never had to steal to eat, because if you did, you’d know that brass can be melted down and sold.”
I shake my head. This is a fucking waste of time. “Fine. So it was bandits; that doesn’t make me feel better. I need to look for Dessa.”
He nods. “Of course, but I don’t think she’s going to be here.”
“Why?” I demand, pulse pounding.
“If whoever did this was just trying to make quick money, they won’t have gone out of their way to kill anyone.”
“Tell that to him,” I growl, gesturing to the dead conductor with my foot.
“He worked for the train, so he probably tried to stop them,” Jett says calmly. “The guards would have tried to stop them too, so I’m guessing they’re dead. That’s why we found the horse wandering around alone.”
“Get to the point,” I growl.
“My point is thieves wouldn’t have killed random bystanders. Too messy. Odessa isn’t the type to pick a fight, and she’s not stupid. If she was here when this happened she probably ran away.”
My pulse slows the smallest fraction, but I still feel like I’m struggling to breathe. “I’m going to look anyway.”
“Of course. You search this side of the train and I’ll go the other way.”
I nod curtly and walk away from him, peering into compartments as I pass.
I’m relieved that Jett’s assessment seems to be right. Most of the compartments have been ransacked for anything valuable, but I don’t see many bodies.
I’m starting to calm down—thinking it might be better to search the woods around the station—when I stop short. My heart leaps into my throat, and my vision seems to tunnel in on itself.
At one end of the carriage, a door hangs off its hinges, and a pool of blood seeps out into the corridor. Lying in the pool is a short, balding man dressed in the bright green colors of the Hydrattan court.
“Jett!” I yell over my shoulder, then rush over to the body. I flip him over just to be sure.
The blank eyes of the Hydrattan emissary stare up at me, unseeing.
Heart pounding and panic surging through my veins, I fling the emissary aside and propel myself into the compartment behind him. I frantically scan the space—Odessa is nowhere to be found—but that does nothing to calm me down. Where the fuck is she?
“Fuck,” Jett says behind me, letting out a low whistle. “Someone stabbed him.”
I turn back around and find Jett pressing a palm to the emissary’s forehead. “He’s not completely cold yet. This only happened a few hours ago, I think.”
“He didn’t seem like the type to fight bandits,” I say, unable to keep the anger out of my voice.
Jett nods in agreement. “And their compartment isn’t ransacked, look.”
