“I’m no good,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He nodded down to the tracks below. I grabbed a first aid kit from under the seat and blankets from the trunk. I tossed a blanket to Bart and I headed down the steep embankment. And then I was falling. I felt the sharp bite split the leg of my pants, a rock bruise. I cussed and then pulled myself up. The car was on its top on the railroad tracks and I was worrying about a scratch on my leg.

I looked at my watch. I would have to cancel the train from Pend d’Oreille. One headlight of the car cast its long light down the length of the tracks. I could see the light from the car’s dashboard, pink and green, almost pretty. I heard music, the soft sound of the radio playing a tune I had not heard before. I wanted to stop, listen hard enough to identify the melody. Stoner lay next to the Buick. He held his ears from the cold. I wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. His cheeks were flaming red and circled white. Frostbite was near him. “Pull that up over your head,” I told him. I could see the car was unsteady beside him, pitched on its side on the track edge.

“She’s over there,” he said with such a grimace he looked to be grinning.

“I’ve got to make a call,” I told him. “The train’s still coming. I’ve got to stop it.” Stoner tried to lift himself up from the tracks like I meant “this very moment.” He looked down the rails both ways.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he said. I didn’t talk. I knew his statement was the voice of implication, not flattery. I scrambled up to the car and radioed to stop the train. It was almost one in the morning. Then I headed back down to Stoner to survey the damage. “She’s over there,” he said. He grabbed my arm. “Let her die,” he said. “She knows too much.” I shined my flashlight on a form. They had covered her with a blanket, a blue Pendleton blanket with a red border. I shined my flashlight on the woman, steadily, carefully, because the new dead hold fragile information.

I saw what I did not expect to see. I saw the sweep of an arm beneath the blanket. I saw the flutter of her fingers. Then I saw breath. The halo of labored breath rising from the blanket. Beads of frozen breath collected on top of the blue blanket, small silver drops. I thought. Or maybe I didn’t think. They had left her to die in the brutal snow. The woman lay parallel to the railroad tracks. I looked at Stoner. He had turned his back to me. I could not see his face but in the darkness I heard the crack of his smile.