Deb took another bite, then sliced into one of the apples. The crisp fruit was a nice compliment to the gaminess of the meat.
“So, Monk Creek,” she said. “What did you discover in your investigative reporting?”
Mal finished chewing, and swallowed. “The thing I liked best about being a cop was figuring things out. I didn’t like the violence, which is why I left the force to study journalism. So while researching this assignment, I wanted to learn about the history of the region, to use as a background for the interviews. And I found out some pretty strange things.”
Deb cut off another hunk of apple. “Such as?”
Mal polished his apple on his shirt and took a bite. “A lot of people disappear in these parts.”
When Deb finished chewing she said, “Quantify
“In the past forty years, more than five hundred people.”
Deb did the math in her head. “That’s only about one a month. Doesn’t seem like too many.”
“Considering Monk Creek’s small population, that’s more than ten times the national average.”
She wiped some mayo from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’ve climbed the mountains here. It’s easy to get lost.”
“But the majority of lost people get found. Either alive or dead. These people are gone. Vanished, without a trace. You’d think some of them would have been discovered.”
“Odd,” Deb agreed. “Does anyone have any theories?”
“That’s also strange. No one seems to think it means anything. Because most of the missing people are from different states, there’s no joint task force treating this like a single problem. The only unifying factor is the sheriff of Monk Creek. And he’s...
“In what way?”
“I spoke with him on the phone. Let’s just say I’m not convinced all of his cylinders are firing.”
“Why would the town hire him?”
“Maybe that’s
Deb finished off her sandwich. “So it’s a big conspiracy?”
Mal shrugged. “Could be. Could be just a coincidence.”
“You come up with anything else?”
“Just one thing. The disappearances began after a specific event in the town’s history. There was a pharmaceutical plant that employed almost everyone in the area. It was closed down by the government in the early 60s, and the town began to die out. As the population dropped, the number of missing persons rose dramatically.”
Deb set the apple core aside, and went back to the cupcake she’d been licking. She peeled off the paper, thinking about five hundred people missing in this area. Missing, presumed dead.
And yet, Deb herself never told anyone she was going mountain climbing that fateful day. One of many rookie mistakes she’d made. If she’d told someone, and had been overdue, maybe they could have sent help.
Deb felt a stab of adrenaline kick up her heart rate.
Last year, Deb had lost her parents. Mom, to cancer. Dad, to grief over Mom. The tough exterior Deb wore like armor kept anyone from getting close.
So here she was, making the same rookie mistakes all over again.
She glanced at Mal, who’d taken their plates and was dumping the apple cores and bread crust into the garbage can in the corner of the room. He lifted the can’s lid, peered inside, then made a face.
“You okay?” Deb asked.
“Remember when I said the meat was pheasant?” Mal asked.
Deb’s stomach turned a slow somersault. “What are you saying?”
“I think I was wrong.” Mal said. “It wasn’t pheasant at all.”
# # #
The thought stunned Felix. After a year of hoping, despairing, and wondering, to finally have this confirmed was so overpowering he didn’t know whether to cheer, laugh, or weep.
“What have you done to her, you son of a bitch?”
Cam pushed Felix aside and grabbed John by his flabby neck. He raised the hunting knife.
“Answer me or I’ll scalp you.”
Felix reached out, ready to intervene, but John began to babble. It was a rant, mostly incoherent, but obviously sincere.
“Blue blood. It’s blue. We all got blue blood. Me ‘n my brothers. Direct line to Charlemagne. Like the Presidents. Ma says it’s too pure. Too presidential ‘n strong. We get sick. We need mixin’.”
“
“What the hell are you talking about?” Cam said.
But Felix thought he got it. “You need her blood.”
Cam looked at him. “Huh?”
“Transfusions,” Felix said. He stared at John. “Is that why you’re so worried about bleeding?”
“If’n I get cut, it don’t stop. Takes too long to heal up.”
Cameron shook his head. “No way. I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true,” John implored. “We don’t hurt her none. We just use her for bleedin’. And...” John’s voice trailed off.
“And, what?” Cam said.
John pursed his lips. Cam pointed the hunting knife at Jon’s face. An inch from his nose.
“What!”
“And makin’ babies,” John whispered.
Felix sank to his knees, feeling like someone had punched him. He’d been overwhelmed by emotion after hearing Maria was alive. Now, hearing why Maria had been taken—to be bled and raped by a family of psychos—it was too much to handle.
“Bullshit,” Cam said, shaking his head. “You’re lying.”
“I ain’t. I ain’t lyin’.”
“We’ll see.”
And then Cam stuck him with the knife. In his right arm, just below the shoulder.
John screamed. High-pitched and loud, like a girl. Cam jammed the sock back into the hunter’s mouth, while Felix watched, slack-jawed, as blood began to soak John’s shirt.
The giant thrashed, breaking the chair, crashing to the floor. Landing on his broken fingers made him scream even louder, and he rolled onto his side, kicking to get the rope off his legs.
Felix tore off John’s sleeve to assess the injury. The knife wound did more than bleed. It gushed with John’s heartbeat, pumping out of his body with a
“Wild,” Cam said. His face twisted into a grin.
Felix pressed his ruined hands to John’s wound, then spat out at Cam, “You asshole! If he dies we won’t find Maria!”
Cam stuck out his lower lip. “What do I do?”
“My tool kit! In the truck! Get the superglue!”
Cam ran off. John flipped, onto his belly, knocking Felix away. Blood soaked the carpet beneath him. He pulled the sock out of John’s mouth and implored, “Where is she?”
“Stop the bleedin’... gotta... stop the bleedin’”
