Ring Ring. Ring Ring.

The annoying tone of Brooke's phone just made me even more angry as I tapped my heeled black pumps against the grey tiled floor in the train station. It was five thirty in the morning, not a time I was particularly appreciative of, and I was huddled in a long black trench coat in the freezing train station which only served coffee or tea, which was outrageous. I knew I was twenty-seven, but I was still a big fan of hot chocolate and caffeine just made me jumpy. And a jumpy young detective that has seen horrors you couldn't even begin to imagine isn't exactly something you'd be particularly fond of.

Finally, she picked up. "Hello?" She said sleepily.

"Brooke Fielding, our train is leaving in seventeen minutes exactly and you are nowhere to be seen!" I snapped. Like I said, I wasn't a big fan of early mornings.

There was a pause. "I'm so sorry, I've slept in. There's no way I'm making it down there in less than seventeen minutes."

"You'd better goddam try, because the next train is at seven o'clock tomorrow morning and as intriguing as Kristen McMahon might be I'm not wasting a second more than humanely possible on this stupid case!"

"Jeez Amber, keep your hair on. No wonder the department calls us the Redhead Bitches. I'll try my best to make it, but if I don't get there in time you go ahead, I'll catch you up later." She hung up.

Me and Brooke shared the same unfortunate trait when it came to hair. To be fair Brooke practically had a love affair with her hair, which is a vibrant red shade that looks like it came straight out of a bottle, but that she swears blind is completely natural. Of course, being a detective, I did my research and in every single childhood photo her hair stuck out from the crowd, unmissable even at a distance. It's actually pretty, I had to admit. But my hair? It was just standard carrot ginger, slightly wavy unless I attacked it with a pair of straighteners. Brooke's at least was naturally very curly, so even though she barely has time to even brush it each morning it still looks like it belongs on the front cover of a magazine. It's completely unfair.

Anyway, my sarcasm and general frustration were known just as well as my skill throughout the department, and I'd earned us the collective nickname of Redhead Bitches. Hahaha, so funny, so clever. Wow, maybe I am a little too sarcastic.

I quickly dismissed the thought. There was no such thing as too much sarcasm.

Fifteen and a half minutes later Brooke was still nowhere in sight, and I wasn't passing up my first class seat to wait about for twenty-three hours. I went ahead and boarded the train, still hoping a little that Brooke would turn up in time to join me.

No such luck. The train pulled away with me sitting on my own at a little table, my breakfast of a single cereal bar staring up at me glumly. I didn't even like cereal bars, and I'm certainly not one of those girls that starve themselves. Pile on the carbohydrates, sugar and gluten, that's my life motto.

I pulled out my folder of notes from the case, which was depressingly little. I'd spend hours trawling the internet to no avail; I'd learnt no more about Kristen McMahon, and her servants were annoyingly ordinary.

First off was the waiter, Gibson. I took out the section reserved for him, flicking through the information I'd gleaned from his Facebook profile. Thirty-one. Originally from Wales. Seemed to enjoy going round the small town near McMahon Mansion getting drunk with his friends. Had an awful looking girlfriend with a dozen piercings and electric blue hair. Nothing of any value.

As for the other three, they had all selected the private option on Facebook, which meant I had startlingly little information about them bar their name and a few photos. This investigation was turning out to be extremely boring so far, a fact made even worse by Brooke not showing up in time for the train.

Yawning, I stretched back, reaching for my iPad and plugging in my earphones. If in doubt, listen to Michael Jackson - my number two life motto. My favourite Michael Jackson song, 'Billie Jean', soon started blaring out into my ears. Obviously, I ignored the high volume warning - I had encountered things far more dangerous than overly loud music.

The song had barely finished whenever the train stuttered to a stop about half a mile into the countryside. Instantly alert, I removed my earphones, standing up cautiously. My hands flew to my waist, finding the gun hanging there reassuring. "I'll be back," I whispered to my iPad which was sitting forlornly waiting for me to hit play on 'Smooth Criminal'. Then I left the empty compartment and headed into the next.

For most people, a train stopping in the countryside was just that - a problem with the train, the delayed time of getting to their destination a more important concern. But my brain hadn't been wired to deal with situations like most people's. A train stopping in the countryside? That meant that it was a target, or at least, someone on board was.

I crept along the compartment floor, my gun placed comfortingly in my right hand, an all too familiar weight. I had chosen a carriage near the back, which just made the walk forward seem all that much longer. My suspicions and fears increased with each empty compartment - I knew this was an ungodly hour, but surely someone was on the train bar me? Was I the target of this attack? Although I knew there could still be some civilians up ahead, all my senses were screaming at me and my gut feeling was that something was very, very wrong. Without a second more to hesitate, I brought my gun up into a defensive stance with both hands wrapped carefully around it, the safety pulled back and ready to fire at the slightest pressure from my fingers. Then I continued down the walk of dread.

The only sound I could hear was the dull thud of my footsteps against the worn blue carpet. Cautiously, I approached the very last compartment, and out of the corner of my eye I spotted a blur of movement.

I didn't take time to think - I raised my gun, pointed, and curled my finger around the trigger.

"Please don't kill me!" The man screeched, visibly shaking with nerves. He raised his hands up in the air as the universal sign of surrender, lowering to his knees. When I got closer, I realised he was wearing the uniform of the conductor who'd waved me smilingly on board. "I'll give you my wallet, just please don't hurt me! I have a wife and two kids!"

Sighing, I lowered my gun. "I'm not going to shoot you." He looked at me for some kind of explanation, but I wasn't prepared to elaborate. "Why has the train stopped?"

"There's some kind of issue, nothing to worry about, should be up and running in a jiffy," he blabbered, his gaze still fixed on the piece of metal in my hand. At precisely that moment the train started screeching slowly against the tracks again, beginning to pick up speed. "Ah, there we are, all sorted!" Then he positively fled back to the engine room.

I headed through the compartments, my forehead creased. Something just didn't sit right with me about the whole episode. As a detective I did tend to overthink what could be a genuinely simple thing, but my gut instinct had never failed me yet. Lost in thought, it took me a moment to process things when I reached my compartment. Then, with a jerk, my brain kicked back into the gear to survey the damage before me.

My luggage had been discarded unceremoniously across the compartment, skirts and dresses and tampons and tops and underwear and shoes thrown everywhere. Glass lay at my feet on the floor, my beautiful iPad and Apple Mac the smashed causes. As for my notes? Well, they were simply unreadable. Shredded pieces of documents decorated the compartment like flashing colourful lights on a Christmas tree - simply too many of them and nauseating to look at for too long. As I stepped through the damage, I realised one page had remained intact.

Pinned lopsidedly to the wallpaper just above the table I'd been sitting at was the newspaper article explaining in full detail Kristen's father's untimely death. And scrawled across it in luminous yellow highlighter; You're next, Redhead Bitch.

***

By the time the train arrived in the small station of the tiny village of Emderlade, my luggage had been put for the most part back together. My electronic equipment was unfortunately irreparable, but luckily I still had my phone to act as a lifeline to the outside world.

I had carefully picked up the broken glass and pages and I dumped it in the nearest bin on the station. However, I had kept the highlighted page. If my previous investigations had taught me anything, it was that even the most seemingly useless pieces of evidence could sometimes come in handy.

I called the local taxi number, a company which consisted of a single taxi, and leant against the train station wall. The incident on the train hadn't spooked me too much; obviously, the person who'd done it didn't know what kind of detective they were dealing with. If they thought I could be scared off by silly threats, they should book themselves in for a reality check. One thing that the experience had taught me was that this wasn't just a simple case of missing jewellery. I might not have as much experience in the thievery department, but usually threats like that were reserved for people who'd killed once, and were ready to kill again. 

The fact that Brooke wasn't here was, I had to admit, bothering me. Brooke did play truant from work sometimes (okay, a lot) but that only usually referred to boring office stuff such as filling out paperwork after cases. Once we got involved in a case, you could guarantee she'd be on time for everything. She'd stop at no lengths to catch a killer, or in this case thief, including getting up inhumanly early to catch a train.

I whipped out my phone and fired off a quick text.

Brooke, did you set an alarm for this morning?

In less than half a minute her name buzzed up on my screen as an incoming call (her lack of a social life is incredibly sad).

"Amber, I already said I'm sorry about this morning, so if you're just gonna yell at me again-"

"I'm not, I'm not, I'm sorry about earlier. But did you set an alarm this morning?"

"Of course I did." I would bet my life she was rolling her eyes right now. "But my clock stopped in the middle of the night, so it didn't go off."

"Huh. What time did it to off at?"

"Why do you care?"

"I'm just curious. Even minuscule details can be important to case," I reminded her.

"Um, just let me check... Midnight exactly. Wow, that's weird. Anyway, why the concern?"

I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. Any doubts I'd had were now most definitely erased. Someone with links to McMahon Mansion had made sure I was the only passenger on that train so they could try and get to me. They'd cornered me off alone, taking the only opportunity possible to do so and delaying Brooke joining the case. I felt slightly worried about Kristen McMahon, because if someone was taking so much effort to prise two detectives away from her, she must be in danger. But so far midnight seemed to be the time of the moment, and it was broad daylight right now.

"It's probably nothing," I finally responded. "Anyway, you know my policy on sharing confidential case details over the phone."

"Amber, you explained the whole case to me over the phone yesterday!" Brooke scoffed. "I swear, you make these policies and mottos up as you go along."

I really wasn't in the mood for our usual friendly banter right now. "My taxi's here, I gotta go. Get here as soon as you can." I hung up, and dragged my suitcase over to the waiting taxi. McMahon Mansion, here I come.

________________

I know what you're probably thinking... Two updates in two days? What a reliable author! Yeah right, I'm sure the readers of some of my other books would disagree. But over in the UK and Ireland the tail end of the hurricane has hit and we're experiencing heavy wind and storms, so school has been cancelled! I'm actually kind of hoping the wifi will work for this to upload, so fingers crossed it's been a bit jittery. Also, I started watching The Good Place on Netflix this morning and ended up watching four episodes, it's amazing! Anyway, thank you for reading this chapter! Please consider voting and commenting!