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brings commuters from Toronto to Oshawa in the evening time, and it returns to Toronto near empty.”
“Of course,” Detective Martin said. “Rush hour… everybody’s going home.”
“Exactly.”
McKean asked, “Why were you going into Toronto on a Tuesday night?”
“I met a girl a few weeks ago.”
“Name?”
    “Kelly something. She’s a real cutie. We hit it off and swapped digits and I wanted to see her again. My wife and I are divorced… well… separated. We’ve been apart for more than a year. If it wasn’t for my little boy I’d probably never see her again.” George looked at his knees. His eyes stayed there for the longest time. His shoulders were slumped and his hands were clasped together, almost prayer like.
“You were alone?”
No response.
“Mr. Lewis? On the train, you were alone?”
    In time, George said, “I was alone, sitting near a window. My car was empty and I didn’t have anything to read. There were a few newspapers lying around, like always, but I read most of them at work. I didn’t have much to do… except look out the window. It’s a nice trip most days. The train runs along Lake Ontario and the sun shines off the water. During the summertime you can see the girls sunbathing. Well, it took about ten minutes for the train to get rolling. And I’m sitting there, not thinking about much. Just looking out the window and watching the buildings roll by.” George swallowed uneasily. His fingers tightened and the muscles beneath his shirt bulged. His eyes drifted; he was a man lost in thought. “Then I saw the strangest thing.”
The room grew quiet and stayed that way.
Detective Martin began feeling uneasy. “Well, Mr. Lewis… don’t keep us waiting now. What did you see?”
George looked up, almost startled by the voice.
    “A man,” he said, with a solemn tone. “At least I thought it was a man. I don’t now. He was standing in a field, close to the tracks. He was alone, wearing a suit and a tie. Black suit, black tie, white shirt. He had a little crown of white hair wrapped around his head and his face was all wrinkled. His eyes were gray but they were brilliant, too. Just brilliant. They were so bright they seemed to be sparkling.” George almost laughed. “Now… I’m in a train, remember. I’m moving fast. So for me to notice his eyes…” George trailed off.
McKean cleared his throat, and said, “Is the man doing something that catches your attention?”
“Not yet.”
McKean nods. “Okay.”
Martin said, “How old do you think he is, roughly?”
George looked up and grinned. “A hundred and fifty.”
Martin’s eyes widened with shock. “A hundred and fifty years old?”
    “Yeah, he was at least that. He was older than any man I’d ever seen. I’d tell you he was two hundred but you’d think I’d lost my mind.” George put a hand to his mouth and nibbled on his nail. “I didn’t think much of the guy at first,” he said, talking through his fingers. “Why would I, right? Yeah, well, after five minutes or so the train stopped. A couple people got aboard and sat near the door.”
    “What did they look like?”
    “Who, the people that got on? They were nobody, just teenagers. Two boys: sixteen, maybe seventeen. They kept to themselves. They don’t matter. Trust me, they weren’t a part of this.”
    Martin nodded his head, trying to understand. He didn’t like the sound of that last sentence: They weren’t a part of this . For some reason that sounded bad to him. It sat in the air like dialog from a bad movie.
    A part of this ––
    What the hell did that mean, anyway?
    George cleared his throat. “We started rolling again. After a few minutes I’m looking out the window, watching the world roll by, and I see him again.”
    “Who did you see?” Martin asked, with his voice sounding slightly uneasy.
    McKean glanced at his partner oddly, but said nothing.
    “The old man in the black suit, of course. Who do you think? He’s standing at the