Endurance

phone even worked. Reception out here was spotty at best.

“Look, Deb, maybe I was wrong. About the gun thing.”

“You think?”

“I’m sorry if I freaked you out.”

“Apology not accepted.”

“Okay, how can I make it up to you?”

“You can carry my suitcase.”

She adjusted the silicone end pad in the gel sheath on her stump, then fit it into the custom cup of the running prosthetic. A few presses of the vacuum button and it was form-fitted and tight. Then she took off her cosmetic leg and repeated the process. With her Cheetahs on, walking was much easier. She waited for Mal to stare at them. How could he help it? She looked like the Greek god Pan, prancing around on his goat legs. All she needed were horns and a lute.

But Mal was staring at her chest again.

“See anything you like?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Sorry. It’s just...”

“Just what?”

He shrugged. “I know it isn’t professional, me being a reporter. But you’re an attractive woman, and I like you.”

Deb didn’t appreciate how that made her feel. “You’re right. That’s not professional.”

“You think I’m a doofus, don’t you?”

“A doofus? How old are we, twelve?”

Mal grabbed their luggage. Deb went to close the trunk, but paused. She didn’t want to leave her prosthetics. If the car were towed, she wouldn’t be able to compete in Iron Woman without them. So she shoved them all in a duffle bag, then went into the car and grabbed her cosmetic leg, which was caught on the wire pulley system that activated the brake pedal. After putting on the hazard blinkers and locking the door, she was ready to go.

“Let me have the light. I need it to see where I step.”

Mal handed it over. They walked off the highway and onto the dirt. Deb flashed the beam at the RUSHMORE INN sign, with its arrow pointing ahead.

I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.

But she knew they had to try it out, or else spend an uncomfortable night in the Vette and face exactly the same problem in the morning. That was out of the question. If Deb missed the check-in, she missed the race.

“So what exactly is it about me that you don’t like?” Mal asked.

“Insecure much?”

“That’s the thing. I’m not insecure at all. But people usually like me.”

Mal shined the light on the forest floor, side-stepping a dead branch. The trail was easy to follow, even though it couldn’t be called a road.

“Cockiness isn’t attractive,” she said.

“Am I cocky? I thought I was just confident. Maybe not as confident as you...”

Deb stopped and hit him with the light. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just surprised you’re letting me carry your suitcase.”

“Are you saying I can’t accept help?”

“I’m saying you’re superwoman. I expected you to strap the car to your shoulders and run it back into town.”

“That’s a pretty insensit—”

Deb stopped mid-sentence. An odor had penetrated her nose and tongue. A distinctive odor, rank and musky.

It awoke a deep-seated fear in Deb. A primeval fear.

A familiar fear.

I know that smell.

Deb swept the beam around them, frantically looking for the source.

“What’s wrong?”

She opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat.

Can it be? Jesus, no...

“Deb? What is it?”

With great effort she managed to get the two words out.

“Mountain lion,” Deb whispered as her light came to rest on a bush, reflecting off a pair of deadly yellow eyes.

# # #

The ride to the Cozynook Motel was nerve-jangling. Felix spent most of the trip looking in the review mirror. Checking to make sure John stayed under the tarp. Checking to see if the cop car was following him. Checking his own reflection to verify this was all really happening. His mind kept flitting between the fear of getting caught, and the hope that maybe fate would intervene and stop him from doing what he was planning on doing.

Whenever he became too distracted, he tried to focus on Maria. The chance that she was alive meant he had to take this risk. Felix swore he’d do anything to get her back. Including going to jail. Including hurting someone who had something to do with her disappearance.

“We bled her. Same as the others. Nice and slow.”

Felix glanced at the Beretta on the dashboard. He would make John talk. He’d make that big son of a bitch talk until his lips fell off.

The motel parking lot was full, probably the only time a year that happened. The one-story building was laid out in an L-shape, its twelve rooms all side by side, guests’ parking spaces by their front doors. Earlier that day, Felix and Cameron had visited everyone staying there, showing Maria’s picture, asking questions. No one knew anything. But unlike most of the townies, the visitors were at least sympathetic.

The people who lived in the area were another story. Not that they were mean, or even particularly cold. A better word for them was distant. Over the past twelve months, Felix had talked to dozens of Monk Creek residents. He was usually met with a warm smile or a nod, but once he started asking questions their demeanor would change. Felix originally thought it was because small towns were private, wary of talking to strangers.

But now he suspected differently. Now he saw a big conspiracy of silence. There was something going on in Monk Creek no one wanted to discuss.

And John had something to do with it.

Felix drove past the parking lot, onto the unkempt grass alongside the building. He pulled the truck around the back, into a copse of trees behind his room. Once parked, Felix turned off the ignition, wincing as his ruined fingers removed the keys. Then he waited in the darkness, listening to the night, second-guessing himself for the last time.

I can still go to the cops, turn him in. John tried to kill me. I haven’t broken any laws.

Yet.

Felix considered starting the truck again. Taking John to the police was the only legal, and moral, course of action. The police had more resources, more manpower. Maybe trying to get John to talk would endanger Maria.

But what if the cops don’t believe me? What if John’s lawyer tells him not to say anything? What if John is well-known in the community? What if he’s friends with the police?

Felix couldn’t risk John not talking.

The only way to know the truth is to get it from John myself.

Felix grabbed the gun on the dash, opened the door, and climbed out of the truck. He walked around to the