The Season of Killing by Leigh Mayberry (reading books for 4 year olds .txt) 📗

the line 800 cc during the PFD sale. Nothing but flat open space out there to race.” This one sat in the seat directly ahead of Meghan. She heard his distinct voice but hadn’t got to memorize his face.

“I want to get back to Anchorage before school starts. There’s no booze in Kinguyakkii.”

“Well, that’s not entirely accurate.” The reply came from the occupant in the seat directly in front of Meghan.

It was the statement that made Meghan lean closer to the gap between the seats. Myles sitting beside her either thought she dropped something or had cramps that forced her to double over.

“I got something with me to help keep the nights warmer.”

“Dude, that’s risky.”

“Relax and keep your voice down.”

Meghan snapped back against the seat when the young man at the window seat glanced between the divide. She had looked away before making eye contact. They continued to talk in hushed voices, too low to hear over the engines. Meghan smiled at Myles when she saw him blinking at her.

“Sorry,” she said. Meghan realized she’d pressed her thigh against his leg. While attempting to overhear the commission of a crime, it seemed justified to rub against her seatmate, accidentally or not.

They practically made an admission to smuggling contraband into the city. Not only that, but they possibly broke FAA law by transporting alcoholic beverages illegally on an aircraft.

Frustrated, Meghan knew she had no jurisdiction in the air. She couldn’t accuse the students of smuggling because his comment didn’t include any details. For all anyone knew, he talked about an electric blanket.

All Meghan had was gut instincts and a little patience. Criminals exhibited criminal behavior. She didn’t need to profile or use stereotypes. Meghan believed everyone deserved a fair shake and a fair trial when they screwed up.

Chapter Three

Landing never got any better, no matter how many times she flew. Every time she had to endure touchdown, hurtling forward at breathtaking speed to a sudden stop, always made Meghan consider other professions that didn’t involve air travel. By the time the pilot broadcast over the intercom for everyone to brace for impact, everyone else put away their items brought out during the flight. Meghan’s anxiety got the better of her. She imagined their demise. The rest of the passengers began applying cold-weather layers before the plane took the tarmac and skidded into the lagoon that surrounded the humanmade runway.

“You have some issues with flying, I see,” Myles said. It was apparent to anyone close to Meghan when she climbed into a plane.

“The flight into Kinguyakkii is rough,” she responded defensively. She couldn’t ignore the images in her head of the tarmac. The long stretch of runway built over the lagoon allowed smaller planes and seasoned pilots to land on a short flat surface. She braced for impact.

Once the commercial jet engines wound down after they landed, Meghan breathed again. Myles raised the shade on the window and looked out at the nighttime airport view.

Winter arrived sometime during nightfall. The dirty white sheets slowly layered over the northern city from mid-October through November until it tapered off when it got too cold to snow in December. When ambient temperatures dropped below 15°F, the air dried out, creating an atmosphere without precipitation. Meghan encountered the myth about being too cold to snow when she moved to Alaska. Winter or summer, if the air lost its humidity, it didn’t rain or snow. Since after Thanksgiving, the average temperature hovered around 13°F, and it was clear dark skies. That dried out the air, kept clouds away, and squeezed the rest of moisture from the air — all that was about to change.

The forecasted snowstorm had stratus clouds pushing inland from the Bering Sea. By the time they landed, the sky already had layers of dense, dark clouds that had pulled over the town. Winter darkness above the Arctic Circle was something Meghan never got used to and tried to ignore.

Meghan saw the midnight blue Chevy Suburban idling inside the security fence. The mayor thought a police presence at the airport gave incoming visiting passengers a sense of uneasiness. While the ancient beat-up truck hardly suggested a strong police attendance, it had the official KPD vehicle decals on the truck as well as light bars. The rest of the law enforcement got state-of-the-art equipment. Most vehicles had digital consoles, video systems, radio gear, and lifesaving tackle that helped in the line of duty. Kinguyakkii had a hand-me-down lumbering oversized vehicle from the late 1980s. The rest of the police vehicles were employee-owned. Only the Suburban belonged to the department. That meant Meghan used it most of the time.

She saw Oliver Henry, a sergeant for the department sitting behind the wheel, waiting for Meghan to disembark. He was a powerhouse police officer who was a walking force of recognition. His face was illuminated by the glow of the overhead interior light and the smartphone screen in front of him. He looked up at the plane with a smile for anyone watching.

“Cold out there,” Myles commented.

It was a statement, not a question, either way, December in Alaska above the Arctic Circle. It was rhetorical. However, Meghan took it as a lead for more small talk, something that failed thus far.

“You live in Alaska?” she asked. They had a few minutes to wait for the ground crew to line up the ramp stairs against the front exit doors. Once on the ground, the plane stopped moving and made Meghan more relaxed, which allowed her to socialize easier.

“I’m from Seattle. I spend a lot of time in Anchorage.”

“First time in Kinguyakkii?” she asked.

“No. I visited one other time,” Myles said. He sat up and leaned toward Meghan to slip on the coat he’d used as a pillow during the flight. “This is my first time in December. It’s peak season. The post