You Owe Me a Murder(19)

The two tourists nodded, but I could tell they were already engrossed in the people around them. I half expected the old guy to snap a picture of the goth girl standing near him with the safety pin through her eyebrow. He kept leaning closer and closer as if to inspect it.

“Keep an eye on them, will you,” I whispered to Alex. “They look like the kind who could wander off.”

“Look at you, guardian angel to the elderly,” Alex teased me, and I jabbed him in the side with my elbow.

More people poured onto the platform, making all of us shift farther down. I lost sight of the couple. Alex was tall enough that I could still see him. He jerked his head to his right, letting me know he still had them in view.

Miriam barked out a laugh, her voice cutting through the noise of the crowd. She and Sophie were talking animatedly by a vending machine. Connor stood near the edge of the platform, inspecting the posters against the far wall across the tracks, advertising everything from vodka to the ballet. He was still glowering, his bad mood all over his face. Miriam must not have wanted him around either, with that attitude. I stared at the back of his head, willing him to keep his mouth shut around Alex.

A whoosh of cool air rushed through the tunnel and the squeal of the incoming train could be heard as it came closer. The hum of the crowd grew louder as everyone started shifting forward. There was a sharp jab in my calf and I spun around. A guy holding a large umbrella was behind me, the metal tip of the umbrella pressing into my bare leg.

“Do you mind?” I asked.

“Sod off,” he said, his voice hard to hear over the loud squealing of the approaching train and the announcement reminding everyone to stay behind the line. Then there was a loud, wet thump and the train braked hard, the wheels screeching on the tracks.

Someone screamed and that set off a wave of panic in the crowd. Half the people pressed forward, while the other half moved back toward the stairs, uncertain as to what was happening, afraid it might be a terrorist attack. I stumbled and the crowd pressed in around me, keeping me from falling.

Another person started chanting. “Oh god, oh god . . .”

I took a few steps and found myself near the front of the platform. A transit employee rushed toward me.

“Everyone get back!” he yelled, waving his hands. “Don’t jump onto the tracks!”

Why in the world would anyone jump onto the tracks? The people inside the train were pressed up against the glass looking out at us, as if we were creatures in the zoo.

Alex was suddenly at my side, grasping my elbow. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” My voice was tight. That’s when I spotted it on the ground. A blue Nike sneaker. It sat there, its tongue flapping forward as if someone would come along at any moment and slide a foot inside. A sneaker Cinderella.

The transit employee jumped down onto the tracks and crouched over something. A large woman in a red dress moved to get a better look. She stepped back quickly, her girth swaying before she bent over and threw up on the platform.

“Jumper,” a voice said behind me. It was the man with the umbrella. He shook his head.

The meaning of his words struck me. Someone had thrown himself in front of the train. Hot, sour bile twisted in my stomach as the reality of the act washed over me.

“Jesus, now we’re never getting out of here,” the guy said, his voice dripping with disdain. He hitched up his pants. “Best bet is to walk up to the next station. It’ll take forever to clean the mess off the rails; they won’t be getting trains in or out of here for at least an hour,” he declared to those standing near him. He wove his way back through the crowd toward the stairs. Others followed his lead, trailing after him.

“Connor?” Miriam called out.

I searched up and down the platform, spotting people from our group, seeking Connor among all the faces. I flashed back to the image of the shoe. Doesn’t he have shoes like that?

“Connor?” Miriam’s voice was growing shrill. Sophie’s eyes were wide and she waved madly when she spotted Tasha farther down the platform. Tasha shoved her way through the crowd and peeked over the side of the platform and then pushed Miriam away from the sight.

“Don’t look,” Tasha commanded. “Student Scholars!” she yelled. “All of you—?back up to the stairs. We are leaving. Now!”

Our group clustered together and moved as one mass. Tasha had Miriam around the waist and seemed to be half-carrying, half-dragging her.

I had to look. It was as if I were tethered to the front of the train and slowly being pulled closer. I peered over the side of the platform.

My brain scrambled to make sense of what I was seeing, to put it in order. It was all wrong. A mannequin assembled incorrectly. Arms and legs, but not in the right places. One leg torn completely free. There was blood splashed up the wall. His face was turned to the side, but I could still see one brown eye looking forward. Connor, but no longer Connor.

All the sound in the space turned to a high-pitched whine, like a mosquito army in my head. My underarms were clammy and I could feel a slick of sweat breaking out on my forehead.

Alex was in my face saying something, but I couldn’t hear his words. I needed to get away. I tried to run, but the nerves that ran to my legs seemed to be short-circuiting. I took a few stumbling steps and then fell.





Eight