Everyone on This Train Is a Suspect

I don’t know how Harriet tracked him down, but I do know that’s why Hatch kept him sequestered to first the train, then the hospital and then his hotel room. For protection. Fat lot of good it did. The bodies were hard to find, shredded under the train as they were, but it quickly became apparent that, due to some fluke of physics and airflow, only Jasper had gone under the wheels. Hatch told Ernest they were still finding all the pieces of the bodies. Which wasn’t technically a lie, it was just that there was one big piece they were really missing: Harriet.

So, back to the hotel room. Harriet’s stolen a car, made it to Adelaide and knocked on the door. She’s got blood and dirt caked over her face, two teeth missing, one arm hanging so far from her shoulder it’s like a wind sock on a still day. But her other arm works just fine. Fine enough to grip the knife she’s brought.

Fine enough to stab Ernest right in the stomach.

Be it fate or just miraculous timing, I arrived to an open hotel room door and chaos inside. Harriet was on top of Ern, dead arm swinging like an elephant trunk, her other raised to slash down, screaming that Ern had taken Jasper from her. I’ve never punched anyone before, and I was surprised by how quickly I knocked her out. I also broke four of the bones in my hand. They don’t tell you that in books.

Ern’s not dead, by the way. I got to him in time. I just wanted to make a point. And while it feels a bit childish to rub it in while he’s doped to the eyeballs with two pints of someone else’s blood in him, well, he should’ve thought of that before he accused me of being a murderer.

So that’s really the end. Ern’s awake and talking, but he asked me to write this chapter for him. To sum it all up. I’ve gone in and fixed up his name tally too. Harriet lands on a crisp 106 (granted, five of those are mine) for those playing at home.

One last thing. Sequels aren’t always a disappointment, you know. Sometimes a second go at things is exactly what you need. A chance to fix up the mistakes you made the first time around. Or to ask a certain question twice. I said yes the second time, is what I’m saying.

The reason I did is very simple. I imagine it’s the same reason he asked me to write this epilogue.

Ernest finally told me whose story this was: ours.

COMING SOON

Author’s Note or An Apology to Ferroequinologists

Those with a knowledge of trains will have noticed I’ve made some deliberate changes to the real-life Ghan to meet the needs of the plot. The most obvious of these are that the Ghan does not have a smoking deck, and I have teleported the Chairman’s Carriage from a different train. Consider my inaccuracies to also extend to both the murderousness of the clientele and any deficiencies portrayed in the comfort of the journey. In particular, I am grateful to the truly exceptional staff, who didn’t once call the police as I questioned them on the feasibility of various murders.

Acknowledgments

None of the characters in this book are based on real people, and, if anything, they are the complete opposite of the incredibly welcoming community of talented writers and booksellers and publishing professionals who have boosted me up in so many different ways, not only with this book but throughout my entire career.

Ernest learned something in this book that I’ve known all along: no book is written alone.

I am grateful to be on the receiving end of many people’s talents: my amazing publishers (Beverley Cousins, Katherine Nintzel and Grace Long); my brilliant agents (Pippa Masson, assisted by Caitlan Cooper-Trent, for books, and Leslie Conliffe, assisted by Kris Karcher, for film, and my endless thanks to Jerry Kalajian); superb editors (Amanda Martin and Molly Gendell); the incredible marketing and publicity teams (Tavia Kowalchuk, Tanaya Lowden, Hannah Ludbrook, and Jennifer Harlow); those involved with international rights (Sarah McDuling, Neil Godwin and Anna Ristevski of Penguin Random House Australia, and Kate Cooper and Nadia Mokdad of Curtis Brown London); my cover designer (Adam Laszczuk); proofreader (Sonja Heijn); and typesetters (Midland Typesetters).

Thank you to every bookseller who pressed Everyone in My Family Has Killed Someone into someone’s hands over the last year and a half, and for again supporting this book with such passion and kindness. Thank you to every reader—what Ernest says about fingerprints and legacies is true, and thank you for leaving yours here.

Lastly, and always, thank you to my supportive, welcoming family: Peter, Judy, Emily and James Stevenson; and Gabriel, Elizabeth, Lucy and Adrian Paz.

And Aleesha Paz. Our story is my favorite story.

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