Murder at five finger light Read Online Free Page A

hand, pulling a child along with the other. The four- or five-year-old boy struggled to twist away from his mother’s firm grip on the shoulder of his jacket, failed, then spitefully punched his younger sister, who instantly howled a protest. Jessie suspected reading was more wishful thinking than a realistic expectation for the woman, and hoped, if they were on her flight, that she wouldn’t be seated anywhere near them.
    Traveling with sled dogs is easier, she thought, putting the magazine back in its place and picking up an Alaskan husky from a rack of stuffed animals. Checking dogs through baggage in their portable carriers meant you could relax without having to contend with a whining, squirming presence in the seat next to you.
    A glance told her that the number of people waiting to go through security had dropped by half, so Jessie put down the stuffed dog and left the gift shop to join the line. Moving up a step or two at a time behind a man who shoved his briefcase ahead with one foot while scanning the front page of the local Juneau Empire, she watched a little girl in a bright pink sweater come out of a nearby restroom. Her pale blond curls bounced as she scampered across the room and threw her arms around the legs of a tall man carrying a suitcase. He smiled and took her hand as they went down the escalator together. A father coming home from a business trip, Jessie guessed with a grin, mentally comparing this child with the two she could see ahead of her in line.
    As the girl and her father sank out of sight, a slender young woman with shoulder-length dark hair half-opened the same restroom door and stood looking out. In a navy blue skirt and blazer over a white-and-yellow striped top, she was half hidden behind it as she glanced around outside with a concerned frown. Apparently not seeing anyone she recognized, she turned quickly to vanish inside and the door closed itself behind her.
    The mother of the child in the pink sweater, Jessie guessed again, then amended that assumption. Maybe not. There had been a hint of caution in the woman’s scrutiny of the area, as if she was checking for someone she didn’t care to see. Must be a man, Jessie thought, if she’s hiding out in the one place he wouldn’t venture. Or maybe she’s just afraid she’ll miss whoever she’s looking for.
    The line lurched forward again and the woman with the two children arrived at its head to dump her carry-on bag onto the conveyer belt that fed the maw of the X-ray machine. Swinging toward her son, she grabbed for the small daypack he was wearing, but he ducked out of reach shaking his head.
    “Mine,” he told her defiantly.
    “Stop it, Michael. You give me that—right now.”
    With the help of a security guard, she cornered him and stripped off the child-sized daypack while he yelled resentfully. Tossing it onto the moving belt, she marched him by the scruff of the neck through the security gate and collected their carry-on items and her daughter, who had obediently followed them through. Jessie could still hear her scolding as they turned left and went off down a hallway toward a distant waiting area.
    She took another step forward and heaved an audible sigh of relief. Wherever they were going it was not Petersburg, for she could see that gate from where she stood.
    The briefcase man turned to give her a rueful grin. “I know just how you feel. Unfortunately, I’m afraid . . .”
    “You have my extreme sympathy,” she told him with a grin.
    “Wanna switch?”
    “Not for any amount of bribery. I’d for sure wind up sitting next to Michael.”
    He stepped up to deposit the briefcase and newspaper in one of the plastic bins provided, adding his jacket and shoes before it all slid away into the machine to be scrutinized by an eagle-eyed woman operator while he was occupied in emptying his pockets of car keys and change.
    “Good trip,” he wished Jessie, and walked on through the gate with a resigned shrug and shake of