Okay, after this, one more chapter left:D Thanks everyone for your kind words (which always humble me) and for sticking with the story this long.
Chapter 9
They stood perfectly still, not even daring to whisper, breaths coming out in puffs in the frigid night air. The train had shuddered to a halt, and now they could hear voices and vehicle motors through the partially-open door. Was this for real? Was the ordeal finally over? Yesterday's false alarm left them a little afraid to hope, but too desperate not to.
One voice stood out among the others, growing louder and closer. With a rumble, the door slid open the rest of the way. An intense beam of light shone in, reflecting off the badges they had never removed. Both Danny and Lindsay blinked and shielded their eyes, blinded momentarily. A short, pudgy man with a head of thick white hair smiled at them, then turned to speak to someone down on the ground.
"Get Detective Taylor on the phone," he called. "I think we just found his detectives."
Still cautious, not quite believing their luck, Lindsay and Danny just stared. The man said, "I'm Sheriff Wolsey. Sorry to interrupt your trip, but you've had a lot of people worried about you."
"Sorry? I've never been so happy to see someone in my life," Danny breathed, stepping forward at last. He turned back to take Lindsay's arm, escorting her to the door. She grasped his elbow, feeling as though they had just landed on another planet, where he was the only person she believed was real.
The Sheriff jumped down onto the tracks below, then reached up to give Danny a hand. Both men assisted Lindsay, who felt her knees falter from both exhaustion and relief. She half-leapt and half-collapsed, Danny catching her before she fell on to the ground. She clung to his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. It was as if every ounce of strength she possessed, both physical and mental, had melted away. She was simply content to be held by him.
"I've got you," he whispered softly in her ear. He set her down gently, not totally releasing her until she was steady on her own feet.
A group of various people instantly encircled them, a cocoon of goodwill. They handed out mugs of hot tea and spare gloves, murmuring their concern. An elderly woman draped a blanket over Lindsay's trembling shoulders. Multiple police officers were milling about, jotting down notes and taking photos of the train.
"We're actually part of the crime scene this time," Danny whispered.
"There's evidence in there," Lindsay told one of the cops, nodding towards the train. "It's from our suspect in the New York railroad murder. We have fibers, even his ID is in there."
"He's the one who locked us in there," Danny joined in. "Cory Abrams. We thought we had him nailed, but he got the last word."
Wolsey spoke up. "You don't have to worry about him anymore. Detective Wyndham nailed the guy—Abrams was apprehended about an hour ago in Massachusetts. There was a lot of great detective work, even without the evidence you collected. You've got a bunch of people who were rallying to find the killer and you." He then excused himself, going to take a phone call.
A crowd of onlookers stood nearby, small-town people who were excited by the unexpected visitors. It had begun to mist; not yet a full-fledged rain shower, giving a ghostly appearance to the dim railway yard.
"Where the hell did we end up?" Danny asked to no one in particular.
"Welcome to Clearfield, Pennsylvania," replied the woman who had given Lindsay the blanket. "You've been quite the interesting story for this town!" As if on cue, a flash of light and whir of a camera shutter interrupted them. "Looks like you'll be making the front page of the Clearfield Gazette."
Danny squeezed Lindsay around the waist. "Not quite Akron, huh?" They shared a private smile. Every hour on the train had seemed like days, it was amazing they had not reached the Pacific ocean.
In a sudden blur of grimy sweat and tobacco juice, Stan Cleaver came bustling up to them. "This is the second time you've interrupted my run," he snarled. "Do you know how much your carelessness is going to cost me?"
Danny stepped forward, clenching his fists. "Not nearly as much as it could have cost us," he hissed. "You weren't cleared to leave the station. You could have injured any number of investigators. I think a dock in pay is the least of your worries right now." Cleaver only glowered in response, as he was escorted off by an officer.
Lindsay waved Wolsey back over to them. "How did you find us?" she asked. Her curiosity had grown as her shock faded. Surely it couldn't have been easy to figure out what had happened to them.
He winked, and handed her the telephone on which he had been speaking. "He'll tell you."
Lindsay tentatively pressed the phone to her ear. "Hello?"
"I'm sorry, Lindsay, but we really can't afford to have you using up your vacation time right now."
"Mac!" She smiled, it was good to hear her boss's voice.
"Are you two okay?"
"Yeah, we're fine." She repeated the question from earlier. "So, how did you find us?"
"You were tracked down by a pair of four-year-olds with long ears, wrinkly faces, and a penchant for drooling."
Lindsay chuckled. She noticed Danny listening intently, so she muffled the receiver with her palm, and mouthed the answer, "search dogs."
Mac went on. "They followed your scents right to the track, where it faded. Wyndham let us know, and Stella and Hawkes narrowed down the location of the train. We've been working night and day on finding you, the whole team."
Despite the damp chill, Lindsay was enveloped with a warm glow. These people were far more than coworkers, they were family. "Thank them for me, Mac," she said, then thought of Danny. "Thank them for us."
"I will. Speaking of, I expect you two took good care of each other?" Mac's voice was tinged with a teasing air.
"We did," she replied. "We managed pretty well, I think." She danced around the truth, knowing that the blush was likely just as evident in her voice as it was on her cheeks.
"Get yourselves home. I had better not see you back in the lab until the day after tomorrow. Rest up, get some sleep."
"We will, thanks Mac." Lindsay pressed the 'end' button, and handed the phone back to Wolsey.
"You two ready to go home?" he asked, laughing at the resounding "YES!" he received from both of them.
A highway patrol officer approached, nodding politely. "I hear we have some people needing a lift to the Big Apple," he said.
"Please, not in a train," Lindsay begged, not even joking a little. She hoped to never see one ever again.
Wolsey laughed. "No, Officer Brereton here will transport you to the local airport, and you'll get a commuter flight back to Manhattan. You'll be home in about two hours. How's that sound?"
Lindsay smiled hugely. "Wonderful." All she could concentrate on was the idea of a hot shower, a warm dinner, and her soft, inviting bed.
They said brief thank-yous and goodbyes to the people who had helped them, then followed the patrolman to his car, arm in arm. Danny first opened the door for Lindsay, and she slid across to the opposite side. When he got in, however, her yearning for closeness made her shift to the center seat. The dark divider between the front and back seats granted them blessed privacy.
Warming up thanks to the blankets and tea and each other, they settled back in their seats, watching out the window as the train – their rusty prison – was left behind forever. The stars above Clearfield seemed to illuminate the station with a spotlight, as if it had merely been a stage production, and not a life-changing event. A moment frozen in time, a piece of reality transformed to fiction. In that moment, Lindsay had a realization about courage: sometimes the hardest part was making the decision to act, not the act itself.
She settled her chin on Danny's shoulder, cocking her head to the side and gazing up at him. It was time. "Is it too late to make that jump?" she whispered.
He tilted his head to bump her nose with his, nuzzling. "I promise to catch you."