Killer Weekend Read Online Free PDF Page A

the man by the shoulders and spinning him around.
       He wore wraparound sunglasses and carried a white cane in his right hand.
       He pulled away, stumbled, and nearly fell over a loose bag. Walt steadied him, apologizing and introducing himself in alternating strokes.
       The man was blind.
       "What's the problem here?" he asked finally.
       The passenger composed himself. "I asked to see my dog. He's a service dog. I shouldn't be made to wait."
       "I've explained to him, Sheriff," the woman said, "that no one besides us can go back there, sir."
       "Your dog's back there?"
       He nodded vigorously. "They required me to kennel him and to check him like baggage. They made me sign a release because of the July heat. I just want to make sure he's okay."
       "We can do that," Walt said. "But we're going to have to do it inside at baggage claim. She's just doing her job: No one's allowed back there."
       Walt glanced over his shoulder, wondering how many passengers he'd missed during this encounter. He hoped Brandon had gotten a good look.
       "You're the sheriff? Seriously?" The blind man sounded amused. A wry smile overcame him.
       "Blaine County sheriff. Yes. Let's take this inside. Okay?"
       "Rafe Nagler." He switched hands with the cane and stuck his right hand out into space. Walt took hold and they shook hands. "I'm here for the Cutter conference. There's supposed to be someone here to pick me up."
       "We'll get it sorted out. Can I offer you . . . ?" Walt took him by the elbow.
       The blind man allowed himself to be led. "Thank you, Sheriff."
       "I'm sorry for the confusion," he said. "Your first time here?"
       "Yes. I've heard wonderful things. Did you know there's a ski program for the visually impaired?"
       "Not this time of year," Walt said.
       "No." Nagler smiled. "Maybe not. But kayaking, and rock climbing."
       "Kayaking? Seriously?"
       Nagler leaned his head back and laughed, showing his teeth. "I'm bullshitting you," he said. "But the rock climbing's for real."
       Walt grinned but of course the man couldn't see it. Then he faked a laugh, which sounded stupid.
       "I've never attended the Cutter conference, but it's said to be the single most important such meeting in the country."
       "Patrick Cutter knows how to throw a party," Walt confirmed.
       "The Journal called it the most influential three days to the communications business," Nagler said.
       "Sounds right."
       "Called Patrick Cutter a kingmaker. Disney bought ABC as a result of this conference. Brighton Distilleries acquired a film studio and changed its entire business plan."
       "And you are?"
       "A dreary professor invited to bore the executives for an hour on Saturday."
       "I doubt that."
       Walt pulled open and held the door, the air-conditioning catching in his throat, a welcome relief. He eagerly scanned the interior. Brandon was nowhere to be seen.
       "Do you see Ricky's kennel?" Nagler asked.
       "Oversized items are delivered at the far end."
       "I'm good now, Sheriff, thank you." Nagler extended his cane and gently broke Walt's grip.
       He negotiated his way through a minefield of pulled luggage and impatient passengers.
       Walt rose to his toes and saw Brandon standing alone. No suspect. Anxiety flooded him. This was the perfect place to identify and arrest a possible hit man arriving to kill Shaler. Right here and now. The contrarian in him wanted to believe that the murder victim in Salt Lake City had been the intended target, that the job was over and done. That the feds had gotten it wrong. That he and O'Brien and Dryer had nothing more to worry about. This was how Cutter would spin it. Possibly Dryer along with him.
       Time worked against him. Baggage arrived, sliding down the short, stainless steel chute with a jarring bang. Like cows at a feeding trough, the passengers approached and nudged one another