Work Text:
I met him once, later, in a small train station in Ventura when I was working on a case.
It was a hot summer day. It had rained lightly the night before when I arrived, but the rain on the pavement had already been baked dry. It was a small station, the air stale and burning. I needed to catch the one-fifteen train to San Luis Obispo, pieces of the puzzle falling into place, and it was also a bit too long a drive. I had lunch in the cafe in the station: a couple of sandwiches that taste like sand and a cup of coffee that I’d rather not refer to as coffee. It was only a quarter to one when I finished, so I decided to sit in the waiting section on the platform, waiting for my ride with a shade over my head.
There was honking in the distance, and a train slowly eased itself into the tiny station at about one. This train was heading to Santa Barbara from LA. I had recited the train timetable out of boredom over the past fifteen minutes. More than half of the population waiting were already standing at the gateway. I didn’t want to be squeezed to death on the tiny platform so I moved to the furthest end of the platform, with no train blocking my view of the other side. I could see some pretty meadows with bright yellow flowers blooming in the background. The sky was very blue, with some white clouds decorated on it. The weather was great, just a little too hot.
Then I caught sight of him. Cisco Maioranos, tall, dark, wearing sunglasses and his elegant manner. I couldn’t see his face clearly across the tracks. I took the cream coloured pigskin suitcase that he gave me for safekeeping since I gave him mine. He had just gotten off the train. Was he just transferring? Or did he have friends here? His train was about to leave this little town. He must have seen me, or my, perhaps his, suitcase. We locked eyes, or I thought we did since I couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses. I couldn’t tell anything from his expression. His train began to move. I wanted to look at his face for just a bit longer, though I could probably recognize him from anywhere. I was pinned to the platform. I wished to move, but I had suddenly lost control of my body. I couldn’t see the people surging around me. I couldn’t hear the honking of the trains, the cries of partings and reunions. All I seemed to notice was that it was sunny and dazzlingly bright outside, it was hot today and there were pretty meadows with yellow flowers in them and perhaps I was dreaming. I didn’t know how long we stood there staring at each other. Then the train roared past, blocking my view. 30 seconds later I could see the platform again, but 30 seconds later Terry Lennox was not there.
Another honking and some more roaring of engines. I should have ditched his suitcase and ran to catch him, or I should have brought it along to give it back to him. But I stayed rooted. But my train arrived. I waited there. I didn’t board my train until the last bell chimed.
There was the rumbling of thunder in the distance.