The Kind Worth Killing by Peter Swanson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Peter Swanson
- Publish Date: February 3, 2015
- Language: English
- Genre: Serial Killer Thrillers, Psychological Thrillers, Murder Thrillers
- Format: PDF/ePub
- Size: 2 MB
- Pages: 320
- Price: Free
- ISBN: 978-0062267528
TED
“Hello, there,” she said.
I looked at the pale, freckled hand on the back of the
empty bar seat next to me in the business class lounge at
Heathrow Airport, then up into the stranger’s face.
“Do I know you?” I asked. She didn’t look particularly
familiar, but her American accent, her crisp white shirt, her
sculpted jeans tucked into knee-high boots, all made her look
like one of my wife’s awful friends.
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“No, sorry. I was just admiring your drink. Do you mind?”
She folded her long, slender frame onto the leather-padded
swivel stool, and set her purse on the bar. “Is that gin?” she
asked about the martini in front of me.
“Hendrick’s,” I said.
She gestured toward the bartender, a teenager with spiky
hair and a shiny chin, and asked for a Hendrick’s martini with
two olives. When her drink came she raised it in my direction.
I had one sip left, and said, “Here’s to inoculation against
international travel.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
I finished my drink, and ordered another. She introduced
herself, a name I instantly forgot. And I gave her mine—just
Ted, and not Ted Severson, at least not right then. We sat, in
the overly padded and overly lit Heathrow lounge, drinking
our drinks, exchanging a few remarks, and confirming that we
were both waiting to board the same direct flight to Logan
Airport in Boston. She removed a slim paperback novel from
her purse and began to read it. It gave me an opportunity to
really look at her. She was beautiful—long red hair, eyes a
lucid greenish blue like tropical waters, and skin so pale it was
the almost bluish white of skim milk.
If a woman like that sits
down next to you at your neighborhood bar and compliments
your drink order, you think your life is about to change. But
the rules are different in airport bars, where your fellow
drinkers are about to hurtle away from you in opposite
directions. And even though this woman was on her way
toward Boston, I was still filled with sick rage at the situation
with my wife back home. It was all I had been able to think
about during my week in England. I’d barely eaten, barely
slept.
An announcement came over the loudspeaker in which the
two discernible words were Boston and delayed. I glanced at
the board above the rows of backlit top-shelf liquor and
watched as our departure time was moved back an hour.
“Time for another,” I said. “My treat.”
“Why not,” she said, and closed her book, placing it faceup
on the bar by her purse. The Two Faces of January. By
Patricia Highsmith.
“How’s your book?”
“Not one of her best.”
“Nothing worse than a bad book and a long flight delay.”
“What are you reading?” she asked.
“The newspaper. I don’t really like books.”
“So what do you do on flights?”
“Drink gin. Plot murders.”
“Interesting.” She smiled at me, the first I’d seen. It was a
wide smile that caused a crease between her upper lip and
nose, and that showed perfect teeth, and a sliver of pink gums.
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