“I apologize,” the conductor says, terror in his voice.

Lynell glances at Price. He seems uncomfortable and rips the papers out of the man’s hands.

When the conductor speaks again, he doesn’t meet Price’s eyes. “I’m sorry but if you’ll please wait until you are off the train, our cleaning crew just disembarked.”

“Of course,” Price says. “Thank you.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Lynell hisses, “to wait to kill me until we are off this lovely train.”

He pushes Lynell again and mutters, “Move.”

“Please, follow me.” The conductor takes them past the other passengers trying to get off the train.

Lynell turns as much as she dares, wondering if Daniel will come to her rescue. He clearly knows Price and knew he Registered her. Did he change his mind last minute and come to warn her? Or did he never want this? Or was he acting when Price appeared out of nowhere? Maybe what Lynell told him last night angered him enough to call Price and tell him where he could find her.

Lynell steps off the train first. The platform is bright with tiles and busy with people rushing from train to train. The far wall of the station is a blue and yellow mural with the words “WELCOME TO ST. LOUIS” written in large bubble letters.

“Aren’t you going to kill me now?” Lynell asks as they approach the edge of the platform, where the crowd is thinnest.

“Not quite yet,” Price says, guiding her toward the exit. They weave through hundreds of people. Lynell has trouble keeping herself from desperately reaching out and grabbing a stranger.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to Dallas.”

“Why? What’s the point in waiting?” she asks.

“Stop asking questions,” Price says, pulling his phone from his pocket. He lets go of her arm to tap on his phone while they walk, but he remains close enough that she wouldn’t be able to take two steps before he could grab her. They step outside and the air slaps her in the face. It’s refreshing, probably fifteen degrees cooler than Texas. The sun is still bright and Lynell squints.

“How do you know Daniel? You’re not going to hurt him, are you?” Lynell asks as they turn left down the sidewalk. Whether he was involved with Price’s decision to Register her or not, he clearly doesn’t want her to die. He tried to save her.

She looks at Price, seeing a muscle tense in his jaw. “Danny has nothing to do with this,” he says.

Lynell tries to ignore the rush of relief. “And what is this?”

“Stop asking questions,” he repeats. “We’ll fly back to Dallas tomorrow. You’ll get your answers then,” Price says. A wave of relief washes over her. The word “tomorrow” holds the promise that she won’t die today.

He steps forward, carefully leading her along, so he doesn’t hurt her again. They stop under a sign that says “PICKUPS” and he pulls his phone out again. Lynell glimpses the screen and sees a small cartoon car driving down the street toward a flashing circle. He must have ordered them a car. Price is wearing a small black watch, and the blank face on the front flashes bright red. He lowers his hand, tucking his phone back into his pocket. A minute later, a small black car arrives, and Price opens the door, pushing Lynell in first.