Dead Men's Dust

    'What the hell are you doing here?'

    'I've told you.'

    'You're trying to regain something belonging to you. Yeah, you already said. But that's—' The thief shook his head. 'You want your SUV back. Is that it? You can have it and you're welcome to it. Has a flat tire anyway.'

    'I'm not bothered about the car,' Cain said. 'It's something personal to me that I want.'

    'If you're after revenge, you can forget it. I'm the one holding the gun, remember?'

    'Not revenge, either,' Cain said.

    'What the hell is it, then?' The thief's face was a picture of concentration. If only for a second or so. 'Oh, I get it. You want your knife back.'

    Cain smiled.

    'Well, you're wasting your time. I threw it away. All this has been for nothing.'

    Cain shook his head. 'I don't believe that.'

    'Believe what you want.'

    'Why'd you throw away a perfectly good Bowie knife?'

    The thief shrugged. He'd be useless in a game of poker; deceit was painted across his features as plain as a billboard advertising Honest John's Quality Used Cars. 'What good was it to me? I've got a gun. Why would I need a knife?'

    'If that's the case, why did you take it?'

    'Because I wanted to,' the thief said. 'And anyway, I don't need to explain myself to you. You're the one who needs to start giving me answers.'

    'There's nothing more to say. You stole my knife, I followed you, and I want it back. End of story.'

    'Can't help you.'

    Cain shrugged. 'You could at least tell me where you left it, so I can go and find it.'

'Who says you're going to walk out of here alive?'

    'Oh, come on,' Cain said. 'We both know you're not going to shoot me. If you were any kind of killer you'd have left me for dead out in the Mojave.'

    'I did leave you for dead,' the thief said with no conviction. 'I didn't think a soft ass like you would survive more than a few hours.'

    Cain laughed. 'Next to a major highway?'

    'I made a mistake.'

    'You made more than one,' Cain told him. 'Haven't you wondered how I found you so easily?'

    The spark in his eye told Cain he was intrigued. Maybe more than intrigued, perhaps a little concerned.

    Cain sat back on the bed, resting his shoulders against the wall. The inconspicuous movement had a twofold purpose: one, he was attempting to disarm the thief by appearing relaxed; the other, he was subtly relieving the pressure from his hands. 'It's obvious you're on the run from someone. This Hendrickson guy you mentioned—you're afraid of him, right?'

    As ebullient as a piece of driftwood, the thief sniffed.

    Cain went on, 'When you're trying to lose yourself, there're a number of things you don't do. For one, you don't use any credit cards or ATMs.'

    'I know that.'

    'I believe you do,' Cain said. 'Next, you don't use an alias that's anything like your real name. For instance, if you're called David Johnston, you don't go calling yourself John Davidson. It's too easily spotted.'

    'Yeah, I know that, too,' the thief snapped.

    'Third, you never write anything down that'll give away your hiding place.' Cain paused, waiting for the truth to dawn on the thief. 'Or if you do, you make sure it's destroyed.'

    The thief nodded. 'I wrote down the telephone number for this shithole.'

    'Uh-huh.'

    'But how did you find it? I threw the damn thing out the car window.'

    'The wind must have blown it back in.' Cain's shoulders lifted. 'Hey, don't be so disappointed. We all make mistakes. I made a mistake by underestimating you, didn't I?'

    'Yeah, you did,' the thief reminded him. 'But don't think I'm gonna underestimate you. I know what you're trying to do. Trying to get me to think of you as someone with my best interests at heart. I can smell the bullshit from here, so you may as well give up now.'

    Cain shifted marginally. He wasn't at a loss, the way the thief was. He'd just slipped one hand out of its plastic bag. His palm was slick with perspiration and he gripped the bed sheets beneath him to dry it off.

    'I'm only trying to help,' he said.

    'Right,' the thief snapped. 'Why would you want to help me?'