Free The Drowning Girls by Paula Treick Deboard Page B

like a mountain lion. We’ve had those before, off and on. The drought brings them out here to the golf course. They see all that green and think they’ve got a better chance of finding food.”
    Headlights rounded the curve at the end of the block, blinding us with sudden light in the middle of the street. We didn’t move. It was a dark sedan, but it couldn’t have been the police, especially if they were coming down the winding access road from Livermore.
    “Hey! It’s the Mesbahs.” Deanna waved to them, and Victor rolled down the window. He was wearing a tuxedo, a bow tie unclasped at his neck.
    Myriam leaned across his body, alarmed. “What’s going on?”
    Deanna called into the sedan, “I just saw a mountain lion on the trail!”
    “My God.” Victor shifted the car into Park. Heat radiated from the engine.
    “Well, we don’t actually know—” Phil tried.
    Doug said, “The police are on their way. Actually, I need to call them back, give them an update.” He took a few steps away, redialing.
    Myriam stepped out of the car, holding up the hem of a midnight blue dress, its fabric pooling near her ankles. “You must be so terrified ,” she said. Deanna collapsed immediately against her shoulder.
    “You don’t want to mess around with mountain lions,” Victor boomed in his too-loud voice, as if he were educating all of us, everyone in The Palms. “Have you ever seen a mountain lion going after something? They’re just stupendous creatures.”
    “My God, yes ,” Myriam said, patting Deanna’s head. “They can just tear something from limb to limb.”
    No one seemed to be listening to Phil, but he kept talking. “We need to keep cool heads here. Deanna’s not sure what she saw, exactly.”
    “Who’s that?” Deanna sniffed, pointing down the street.
    It was the Jorgensens, dressed in dark jeans and white shirts. The hard soles of Sonia’s sandals smacked the asphalt. “Is everyone okay?” she called.
    “Sonia! It was horrible, you wouldn’t believe—” Deanna began.
    “So horrible ,” Myriam echoed, as if she had been on the trail, too, taking a lap in her evening gown.
    Tim Jorgensen shook hands with Victor and Phil and nodded at me. Deanna repeated her story, trembling when she got to the glowing eyes.
    Doug was back, sliding his cell phone into his pocket. “They’re going to send out some kind of wild animal team in the morning.”
    “In the morning !” Myriam scoffed. “What good will that do?”
    “I don’t suppose there’s much they can do out there in the middle of the night,” Doug said. “And we hardly want them driving out on the golf course.”
    Tim looked shocked. “No, of course not. They could do a lot of damage out there.”
    “But we need to let people know,” Deanna protested. “I mean, think of all the people who jog first thing in the morning. The Browerses, for one. Sometimes Daisy’s out there, too. And then there’s the Berglands, with all those kids. You don’t think a mountain lion could hop one of those fences along the course, do you?”
    “I don’t see why not,” Victor said. He clapped Phil on the shoulder. “What do you say, mate? I’ve got a handgun. If you give me a minute to change out of this monkey suit, we could head out there in my cart and chase down some mountain lions.”
    I could feel Phil’s annoyance. He hated the Crocodile Dundee act, the assumption that all Australians were swashbuckling men in dungarees and a hat rimmed with jagged teeth. “Let’s keep a cool head here,” he repeated.
    “But we want to be sure,” Victor said. “It’s about keeping our women safe, right?”
    “A handgun , Victor? You’re not serious.” Myriam shook her head. “And I don’t think the cart is charged, even. When’s the last time you went golfing?”
    “Rich has a .22,” Deanna offered. “He’s in the city tonight, but you could take it. And I know our cart is charged. Mac was on it earlier today. He’s too lazy to walk