Page 111 of Girl Between (Dana Gray FBI Mystery Thriller #5)

The overhead lights glowed brightly as Jake’s legs chewed up the polished linoleum. He wondered what genius engineer had chosen daylight bulbs for the long underground terminal.

The design was probably meant to be soothing, but bringing light underground wasn’t fooling anyone. They were all just rats in a tunnel, hoping to move through it as quickly as possible.

Jake avoided the terminal tram and walked the extra distance. No reason to add more confinement to an already confined space. He took the escalator steps two at a time, calling “on your left” to a pair of oblivious twenty-somethings glued to their phones.

He took a deep breath when he finally saw a splash of sunlight ahead. He supposed the large windows were meant to be calming. But there was nothing calm about an airport. To Jake air travel was just a necessary evil.

Give me a car and the open road any day.

He didn’t hate flying. Living walking distance from an Airforce base had cured him of that early on.

What he disliked about air travel were the people.

Especially people in the midst of dragging their ungrateful spouses and children on some once-a-year vacation that was supposed to make up for the other eleven months they spent tormenting or ignoring each other.

To prove his point, a little girl in pigtails ran into his knee. She bounced off like she’d hit a wall. The little girl stared up at him. For a moment, they were both speechless. Then the girl burst into tears.

Christ.

Jake picked up the pink stuffed cat the girl dropped and tried to hand it back but that just made her cry harder. The girl’s mother appeared, her face awash with relief. “I’m so sorry,” the woman said to Jake, taking the stuffed cat before gently helping the little girl up.

She whispered something Jake couldn’t hear and lovingly scooped the toddler into her arms. The little girl threw her skinny arms around the woman’s neck and grinned at Jake, everything right in her world again.

Jake shook off the encounter, realizing he needed to stop deflecting. Not all families were as messed up as his. Perhaps if he’d come from a normal one, he wouldn’t be at the damn airport right now.

He found his gate and checked his watch. He was early.

Great. Now I have nothing but time to contemplate what the hell I’m doing here.

The flickering glow from the televisions at the sports bar caught his attention. It was only a few gates down from his. Without hesitation, Jake changed his trajectory.

At least I can have a bourbon while I think over my life choices.

He grabbed a seat at the empty bar and began surveying the slim airport bourbon selection when a news headline caught his eye. “Hey, can you turn that up?” he asked.

The bartender shrugged and handed Jake three remotes. “If you can figure out which one does that, be my guest.”

With minimal trial and error, Jake managed his goal.

Volume finally sprang from the news report, filling the empty bar.

“… more than sixty linked missing person cases in Louisiana, which are now being called the Casquette Girl killings.” The newscaster paused for dramatic effect.

“What we can tell you is the FBI has joined the investigation. ”

The footage cut to the precinct Jake had left just days ago.

The names, Agent Colby Creed and Detective Vincent George, appeared on screen as aerial footage of a rural farmhouse filled the monitor.

Jake spotted CSI, FBI, NOPD and just about every other department acronym in between crawling over the expansive ground dotted with tents and body bags.

“Shit,” he muttered.

The newscaster blathered on without divulging any real facts before signing off. When the camera cut to the weather, Jake hit the mute button. He shoved the remotes back toward the bartender who was chewing her gum like a hyena.

“You wanna order?” she asked.

But Jake was already gone, striding through the airport, phone pressed to his ear. “Change of plans.”