Chapters (73)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Part IAnnie
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Part IIHarry
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Part IIIAnnie
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part IVHarry
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Part VAnnie
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Also by Linwood Barclay
- About the Publisher
“Jesus Christ,” Harry said under his breath. Wasn’t this what witches did? Made a brew consisting of items from people they wanted cursed? Or was that the specialty of voodoo practitioners? Take a lock of hair from someone they wanted to die and attached it to a doll before they stuck pins into—
Speaking of hair.
That grassy field, at the base of the mountain that a train had just vanished into through a rocky portal, looked particularly silky. Hesitantly, Harry ran his fingers through the grass, and, while he knew a more forensic examination would be called for, it sure felt like hair. Was it human hair? Was it a goat’s?
One of the small model houses had a garden in the front yard that was edged with stones. But they did not look like stones to Harry. He ran his finger over the top of them to confirm his suspicion. The stones were teeth.
A small tree drew Harry’s attention. No more than six inches tall, with a slender trunk that fanned out into branches onto which had been glued green clumps of sponge. Harry took hold of the base between his thumb and index finger and wiggled it back and forth until he had pried it off the layout. He brought it up close for a better look. He used a fingernail to scrape off some of the brown paint on the trunk. Underneath, it was white. He picked off the green clumps of sponge and had a look at the branches, one of the narrowest ones snapping off.
Fingers. The branches were finger bones.
Tests would confirm. But that grass looked like human hair, that tree appeared to be made of bone, and, holy shit, that rock outcropping.
He brushed away some of the fake vegetation until he saw what the outcropping was.
A skull.
A train came barreling out of a tunnel. Once it had passed, Harry leaned over, looked into the dark opening, and saw a latticework structure. Strips of material in a crisscross pattern, overlapped for strength to hold up the mountain above.
Harry decided to see just how strong it was. He dug his hand into the tunnel opening, grabbed the top of the portal, and gave it a good yank, revealing what was underneath.
More bones.
A conventional model train buff would probably use chicken wire and plaster to make his mountains, but not Edwin Nabler. No, he had a very different technique. He used people.
Okay, Harry thought. We know what Nabler is now. He’s a psychopathic killer who uses stolen items and body parts to build his creation. But the larger question remained: Why? Was there a purpose to all this? Was something happening to these trains as they circled at high speed through his macabre setup?