Dead Push (Kiera Hudson Series Two#7) by Tim O'Rourke Page A

     
    Potter
     
    I peered through the glass partition at the wrinkled old black guy. His eyes twinkled like stars beneath a set of overgrown white eyebrows. His face was a map of deep, ragged lines. They spread out from the corners of his eyes, down the sides of his ancient face, and formed what looked like a spider’s web around his mouth.
    “And what is your destination, Potter?” he asked with a brilliant smile.
    “Where do you suggest?” I shot back at him through the glass.
    Noah brought a dusty-looking Coke bottle up to his dry-looking lips and took a sip. The red and white label around the centre of the glass bottle was faded and peeling away. “Have you not checked the departure board for destinations, Potter?”
    I glanced to my right and scanned the hundreds of boards with their twinkling orange lights. One board seemed to be lit up more than the others, as if drawing my attention to it. I checked out the destination. Very cute, I thought to myself with a half-smile. Looking back through the glass at Noah, I said, “I’ve heard the Hudson River can be very nice at this time of year.”
    “Did you say Hudson ?” the old guy asked, bringing an arthritic-looking hand up to his ear.  
    “Yeah, that’s the place,” I said.
    Noah punched me out a ticket and pushed it beneath the glass partition. “Have a safe journey, Potter, and I hope your stay at the Hudson River is a productive one.”
    “I’m sure it will be,” I said, taking the ticket and turning it over in my hands. And just like I guessed it would be, the ticket was blank. “Thanks…” I started, looking back at the booth.
    “Next!” the old guy shouted over me.
    I stepped to one side so Jack could approach the ticket booth. Jack arched his skinny back, stooping so he could look through the glass at Noah.
    “What is your destination?” Noah asked Jack, just like he’d asked me.
    “You tell me,” Jack barked.
    Easy, tiger , I thought to myself.
    Still smiling, the old guy peered at Jack from inside the booth and said, “Can’t you see any place you would like to go to?”
    Stooped at the waist, Jack turned his head and glanced over at the departure boards, then looked over at me. “What did you say Isidor’s girl was called?”
    “Melody Rose,” I told him.
    Looking back through the glass at the old guy, Jack said, “I’ll take the train that’s departing from platform 12.”
    “And where is that train heading?” Noah asked, screwing up his eyes and peering up at the boards.
    “The Rose Garden,” Jack said.
    “Sounds very picturesque,” Noah said, punching out a ticket and sliding it towards Jack. “Lots of beautiful pink roses.”
    Jack picked it up with his long, tweezer-like fingers and inspected it. “Who said the roses were gonna be pink?” Jack grunted.
    “I’ll wager they are,” Noah smiled brightly back at him.
    Without saying anything, Jack turned away from the booth. And instead of Noah shouting the word ‘Next’ like he had so many times before, he called after Jack and said, “Be careful of the roses, Jack, they can have thorns. Make sure you handle them with care.”
    “I’ll be careful not to cut myself, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jack said over his shoulder.
    “It’s not you I’m worried about, Jack,” Noah said, his smile fading. “Make sure you don’t hurt one single petal on any beautiful roses you might find.”
    Jack fixed the old guy with a knowing stare, then looked away again. Turning the ticket over in his fingers, he joined me and Lilly.
    “What’s that crazy old fucker going on about?” Jack said.
    Looking him straight in the eye, I said, “You know exactly what the old guy means, and don’t forget it, Jack.”
    Jack broke my stare, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. Was sending a fucking serial killer back to watch over a fourteen-year-old boy and girl the sanest thing in the world to do? I wanted to warn Jack not to hurt either of them, just