BooksBarbecue
Back We Were Killers Once Save as PDF
Chapters (65)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty–one
  25. Twenty–two
  26. Twenty–three
  27. Twenty–four
  28. Twenty–five
  29. Twenty–six
  30. Twenty–seven
  31. Twenty–eight
  32. Twenty–nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty–one
  35. Thirty–two
  36. Thirty–three
  37. Thirty–four
  38. Thirty–five
  39. Thirty–six
  40. Thirty–seven
  41. Thirty–eight
  42. Thirty–nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty–one
  45. Forty–two
  46. Forty–three
  47. Forty–four
  48. Forty–five
  49. Forty–six
  50. Forty–seven
  51. Forty–eight
  52. Forty–nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty–one
  55. Fifty–two
  56. Fifty–three
  57. Fifty–four
  58. Fifty–five
  59. Fifty–six
  60. Fifty–seven
  61. Author’s Note
  62. Acknowledgments
  63. Also by Becky Masterman
  64. About the Author
  65. Newsletter Sign-up

I made it to the airport, was happy to find no line ahead of me where I ditched the car, and dashed into the terminal. At first glance I thought it was just a busy morning. A very busy morning. The line at check-in was one hundred strong. A kiosk was open, but when I tried to print my boarding pass I got a message that said check with attendant.

Never a good sign.

I got in the line with everyone else, now wondering whether I would miss my plane or whether there was simply no plane to miss. I asked the person in front of me what was going on, some poor mom with two small children in tow.

“Didn’t you hear?” she asked while waving like a two-armed octopus to maintain some control of the kids. “There’ve been freakin’ blizzards in the north since early morning. All over the Northeast and Midwest. Flights are canceled. Like five thousand of them.”

“Mommy, what’s freakin’?” the bigger of the two asked.

“It’s insane,” she answered, “and stop licking your brother’s hair.”

At any other time I would have dreaded being in the same row as these people, but today that was the least of my problems. I had a connection through Dallas where it wasn’t snowing, but that didn’t make a difference. Only one of a herd of cattle hemmed in on both sides by a strap and other cattle in front and back of me, by the time I got to the agent the flight had not taken off. Delayed two hours, she said.

Powerless, I stepped away from the counter and let those behind me surge hopelessly forward.

With plenty of time to kill, I went through the TSA PreCheck line and on to the new concourse assigned to the flight that might leave in two hours, though one can always assume that’s just a sop they’re throwing you to keep you quiet. There was a Cinnabon, beckoning me. I never get one of those monster pastries unless it’s a moment like this, when I’m needing carb comfort of a most excellent kind. With a large coffee.

I sat down at the gate that showed Tampa to Dallas in two hours, and called Carlo. No one answered, but I wasn’t concerned. I left a message telling him it was a good thing I’d driven myself to the airport so he didn’t have to stay on top of flight times. I also told him I had a surprise for him, but didn’t go into details. For one thing, this was probably more exciting for me than it was for him, and for another thing, it would have taken too long to explain before the message machine shut off.