JACK KILBORN ~ ENDURANCE by Jack Kilborn Read Free Book Online Page A

and birth defects. The old woman who lived in a shoe. Something to do with blood types. He eventually passed out in mid-ramble, right at the bar. When Felix went to visit him the next day, having written down his address from his driver’s license, the old man wasn’t there.
    He turned up that afternoon. The state trooper said it was a car accident. But Felix had seen the supposed crash site. The blood trail went on for almost a quarter of a mile. Like someone had tied a rope around the old guy and took him for a drag.
    Felix took a big gulp of West Virginia air. It smelled clean and fresh, but there was a sour note beneath it. Felix hated the country. He hated the trees, and the mountains, and the clear sky, and the beautiful sunsets. If he ever found Maria, he’d never leave the city again.
    When, he corrected himself. When I find Maria. Not if.
    He climbed into his pick-up; a purchase meant to help him blend in with the locals, like his flannel shirts and work boots and unshaven face. Digging out the area map, he drew an X through Mel’s Tavern. The map contained so many Xs it was getting tough to see the roads.
    A knock on the driver’s side window startled Felix. He looked up, saw a man standing next to his truck. The hunter from the bar.
    He was older than Felix, maybe mid-thirties, and in no danger of ever winning a beauty pageant. Tall and pudgy, like he’d never lost his baby fat, sporting a plump, almost feminine face, which had a strange appearance to it that Felix realized was a complete lack of facial hair. No stubble. No eyebrows. Not even eyelashes. In contrast, the black hair on his head looked like a wig.
    Felix unrolled the window with one hand. The other he stuck under his seat, finding his nine millimeter Beretta.
    “ Heard you talkin’ ‘bout the Rushmore Inn,” the hairless guy said. “You payin’ for information?”
    “ Top dollar.”
    The man looked around, uneasy. His denim overalls were splotched with brown stains. “This ain’t a good place to talk. You stayin’ nearby?”
    Felix considered what to say. He decided on the truth, since the chance of learning something outweighed the potential danger.
    “ Place called the Cozynook Motel. Outside of Slatyfork.”
    “ What room?”
    Did he really want the hunter to know his room number? What about Cameron?
    The hell with Cameron.
    “ One ten.”
    “ I can come by, hour or so.”
    Felix tried to play it cool. Maybe the hunter knew something. Or maybe he just wanted to round up some buddies, drop by, and rob him. In these parts, apparently strangers weren’t missed.
    “ I’m looking for this woman,” he said, flashing Maria’s picture. “Have you seen her?”
    The hunter studied the picture. Felix studied his eyes.
    “ She one of them try-atha-leets?”
    “ You’ve seen her?”
    The hunter shrugged. “All kinda look the same. But if she was at the Rushmore, she probably got in some deep shit. I’ll come by later, we talk some more.”
    If he did have information, Felix didn’t plan on leaving him out of his sight. He’d done that once before, and the guy wound up a thousand yard smear on Highway 39.
    “ I was planning on checking out tonight,” Felix lied. “If you have something to tell me, we could take a walk in the woods.”
    The hunter shook his head. “Woods ain’t safe ‘round here.”
    “ How about we take a ride, then? Drive around for a bit?”
    “ Maybe. What’s your blood type?”
    Felix blinked. “Excuse me?”
    “ Blood type. You know. Type A, type B, type O.”
    What the hell kind of question is that?
    Then he remembered the old drunk said something about blood types.
    Was there a connection?
    “ I’m A. A positive.”
    John sucked on his lower lip, then blew it out. “Okay. We can take a ride.”
    The big man walked around the front of the truck, and Felix noted the large hunting knife strapped to his leg. When he climbed in, the cab bounced from his weight.
    All of the sudden this seemed like a