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“Not my plan. His. I was supposed to find a way to stop the train in the middle of the night so that he could pay her a visit and take the necklace back. Then we were going to meet in the viewing car and exit together from there.”

“But you’re still here,” I pointed out with raised eyebrows.

Sariah faced me once more.“Yes. He never showed up.”

Desperation clawed at the edges of my brain. I so badly wanted to know who the he in Sariah’s story was, but there were other details I needed to find out first—rather than risk her breaking down again.

“Why did you both want the necklace so badly?”

“It rightfully belonged to us. It had been passed down for generations, long before our ancestors ever settled in America. Not only is it worth a fortune, it has sentimental value, too.”

“So it’s a family thing, but you said yourself that Rhonda was family.” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited, hoping my words had the incendiary effect I wanted. If so, they could blow this whole thing open and finally get Sariah to reveal the identity of her mysterious partner, the he.

“No.” She closed her eyes and her cheeks turned red, but still she spoke. “Her family took everything from us. And it was a cold, hard slap to the face when Father gave the necklace to her instead of one of us.”

I didn’t say anything, hoping Sariah would volunteer more on her own. When she didn’t, someone else stepped in.

“How did her family hurt yours, sweetie?” Mom asked from her spot beside the sobbing witness. Most of her tears had dried up now, however, anger taking their place.

“When I was five, my father left to start a new family. He said he had fallen in love and the lady was pregnant, so he had no choice. But he did have a choice! He just didn’t choose us. He left and he took everything from us. All of the money and privilege that should have been our birthright went to the new family, went to Rhonda. So, when he told me his plan to get our necklace back, of course, I wanted to help. Wouldn’t you?”

“I understand where you’re coming from,” I said, nodding along. “I also believe that even though you hated Rhonda, you hadn’t planned for her to die.”

She straightened and sat taller on the bed. Some of the tension drained from her fists and tightly set jaw.

There, I’d given her something important. Now she had to help by providing that final piece we so desperately needed. “Can you do me one last favor and tell me whose plan it was? We need to know who hurt Rhonda so that we can make sure you and everyone else on this train stays safe.”

“He’s not going to lay a finger on me. I’ll kill him first,” Sariah said between clenched teeth, and I believed her.

“But who is he? Who’s he, Sariah?” I practically begged now.

“He is our brother. Jamison.”

Chapter Sixteen

All eyes were on Sariah, including mine.

“There,” she growled at Melvin, who still held his weapon at the ready. “I’ve told you everything I know, so how about you stop threatening me with that gun or knife or whatever you have in there?”

Melvin snickered and pulled the weapon from his jacket, causing us all to flinch as he tossed it onto the bed beside Sariah.“As they say, the pen is mightier than the sword.” The smug grin on his face showed just how clever he felt he’d been.

Sure enough, a gold-tipped fountain pen lay on the comforter, shining in the light cast down from overhead. A pen!

Crazy Melvin had proven useful, after all.

“Gotcha!” he cried, and I half-expected him to break out into an endzone-style victory dance.

A collective groan rose throughout the room.

Sariah sneered at the false weapon, then picked it up and threw it back toward Melvin.“Figures.”

“How did you stop the train?” Dad asked, pointedly ignoring Melvin.

The writer withered when he realized we wouldn’t spend the rest of the night applauding his clever ruse. But our investigation was far from over. We still hadn’t caught the killer.

“That’s easy for a mechanical engineer,” Sariah answered with a casual shrug.

“No one has been able to get the engine going again, but they were able to get power back,” Dan added from his place beside Dad.

Our witness chuckled wearily.“Lights, that’s electrical engineering. Not my area.”

Clearly, this woman was very educated. Being abandoned by a parent definitely sucked, but did she really end up having such a bad life? Were things truly bad enough for Jamison to murder Rhonda as a way of paying for their father’s sins? Everything in me screamed no.

My own family had a twisted backstory, one Mom and I had only recently discovered and still didn’t quite understand. But I would never in a million years hurt someone for answers—or for revenge.

I guess that’s why I was the P.I. and not the murderer. And thank goodness for that!

“Have you seen Jamison since the train stopped?” I asked, remembering my role.

“No. Like I said, he never turned up at our meeting spot. The jerk probably made a run for it without me.”