JACK KILBORN ~ ENDURANCE by Jack Kilborn Read Free Book Online

stains that were easy to see even in the low lighting of the smoky, shitkicker bar.
    Felix Richter slapped a ten next to the can of Miller High Life . The bartender reached for it, but Felix’s finger kept it pressed to the bar counter top.
    “ I’m looking for a bed and breakfast in these parts.”
    The bartender spit tobacco juice into an ashtray. “Then get yourself a map, boy.”
    “ This one isn’t on any maps. It’s called the Rushmore Inn.”
    The man sitting next to Felix—stereotypical redneck hunter-type—leaned closer. Felix ignored him, watching the bartender, searching his eyes for any sign of recognition.
    “ Never heard of it.”
    If the bartender was lying, he was good at it. Felix had become pretty good at spotting liars. He’d talked to more people in the last year than he had in his previous twenty-six.
    Still keeping his finger on the bill, Felix tugged a worn photo from the breast pocket of his flannel shirt. He held it up.
    “ Seen her before?”
    “ Can’t say that I have.”
    “ Maybe it would help if you looked at the goddamn picture.”
    The bartender’s eyes flitted to the photo, then back to Felix. “Don’t recall,” he said, spitting again.
    “ I’ll pay for the information.” Felix dropped his voice. “I have a lot more money.”
    “ Then buy yourself some swabs to clean out your ears. I never saw the girl before.”
    Felix let him take the ten. Then he flipped the picture around and stared at it.
    Like always, seeing her face made his jaw get tight. Her voice played in his head, even though her last words to him had been an acronym-filled text.
    Felix – you’re probably asleep. I’m at a creepy B&B, not the hotel. Long story, but it’s free. That equals more money to spend on our honeymoon. We’ll talk later. Ta-ta for now, hope to see you soon, love you, Maria.
    He thought about looking at his phone to read the message again, for the ten thousandth time. Then he thought about calling her, just to hear her voicemail message. He kept paying her monthly cell bill even though the account hadn’t been used in twelve months.
    The barkeep brought back his change. Felix took it, left the beer untouched, and got up to leave.
    How many bars had it been so far? Fifty? Sixty? Add in the restaurants, the gas stations, the motels, the homes, and it was well over a hundred he’d visited.
    Not too many left.
    And then what? Give up? Finally have her declared dead and give her the funeral her parents have been pleading for since Christmas?
    No. Felix wasn’t going to give up on Maria. Ever. When he’d asked questions at every shop and residence within a hundred square miles, he’d start over at the top of the list.
    Someone had to know where the Rushmore Inn was.
    If the Rushmore Inn even exists.
    Felix stepped out into the night, rolling his head on his neck, loosening up the tension in his shoulders. The bar parking lot wasn’t paved, and the gravel crunched underfoot like freshly fallen snow.
    He looked out over the road, into the dark forest.
    The women I love is in there. Somewhere.
    After Maria went missing, he’d tried all the conventional methods of getting her back. The police. The FBI. Hanging fliers. Offering a reward for information. Even hiring a private detective.
    The only thing he’d accomplished was getting fired from his job, which turned out to be a good thing. It freed him up to investigate full time.
    Unfortunately, his unemployment checks were just about ready to run out, and the only lead he’d uncovered in all of his searching and questioning was a vague reference by an old drunk to a bed and breakfast called the Rushmore Inn.
    “ Supposedly it’s been in these parts forever, but no one knows where it actually is. Or those that know, don’t tell. It’s like one of them roach motels. People check in, but they don’t check out.”
    Felix questioned him further, but his answers became increasingly incoherent. Drunken mumblings of strange rituals