'He knows we're here,' Rink said.
I looked across at him. There he was again, reading my thoughts.
'He knows we're here and he's taunting us,' Rink embellished.
I nodded. 'Probably.'
'Back at the house, it was almost like he was challenging you to find him. Makes me think that's why he spent so long in the city; to let you catch up.'
When I thought about it, I realized Rink was right. 'Yeah, he was taking a big chance driving through the center of L.A. when there could've been an APB out for him. He could've easily switched vehicles, too. Looks like he wants us to follow him.'
'You want me to get up a little closer? Put a little pressure on the squirmy little punk?'
'No. Just hang back where we are. Let's see where he wants to take us.'
'My guess is it's going to be somewhere remote. He's looking for a showdown. Doesn't want anyone else getting in the way.'
'If it's a showdown he wants, it's what he's gonna get.'
Rink and I exchanged glances.
'He's certainly made this personal, ain't he?' Rink asked.
'He made it personal when he took John prisoner,' I pointed out.
'Maybe so,' Rink said. 'But I'm referring to him and you. When he found out who you were, I could see it in his face—it was almost as if he was excited. As if he'd found a worthy adversary, y'know? You think he's lookin' to die, Hunter? Some of these sickos like to go out in a blaze of glory. Think he's lookin' for you to kill him?'
'Whether he is or he isn't, that's what's going to happen,' I promised.
'Yeah,' Rink grumbled. 'But be wary, man. If he has a death wish, he intends to take you with him. If he's looking to bolster his reputation, who better to have on his dead list than you?' Rink looked across at me again. 'Apart from me, of course.'
Even in that moment, Rink could find humor. It made me smile. 'Of course.'
'No, man, I'm serious. The psycho's looking to make himself famous.'
I shook my head. 'You really think anyone will ever know the truth about him?'
'Not if it's left to Walter.'
'The provision he put on us—allowing us to bring the Harvestman down—was that his name never got mentioned again. How likely is it that my name hits the news if the maniac manages to take me out?'
'Not very, I suppose. But then again, what about your folks back home? Don't you think they're gonna want answers, that they won't make a scene if anything happens to you?'
'Diane knows what my line of work is. She'll receive a call from Walter's office. She'll be told to keep quiet. She wants a quiet life, she'll comply.'
Rink grunted. 'An' here was me thinkin' you really understood your ex-wife.'
I squinted across at him and he looked at me as though I was a complete idiot. 'Hunter, man. You're not in that game anymore. How many times do I have to remind you? There's your mom and dad. Jennifer. An' you really think for one goddamn minute that Diane ain't gonna scream to the rafters if anything happens to you? You think she'll give a shit what line Walter tries to feed her about the Harvestman's identity being an embarrassment to the U.S. government?'
I exhaled. He was right again. Of course Diane would want—no, demand—answers. Suggesting otherwise was doing her an injustice. I nodded.
'Not only that,' Rink went on. 'But don't you think I won't raise the subject? I don't owe Walter a goddamn thing. I never made any promises to hide the identity of his little black sheep.'
'No, Rink. I made the promise for both of us. By coming along, you bought into this.'
Rink's face twisted, but he was giving in.
We drove for another hour and a quarter and silence reigned over the many miles.
'Look familiar?' Rink suddenly asked.
I glanced toward a rest stop across the highway to our left. There was a diner and rest area, beyond them a cul-de-sac of single-story cabins. I shook my head.
'That's where the couple was murdered. The man and woman who picked John up in their car.'
'You mean the couple who picked up Martin Maxwell or Tubal Cain or whatever it is he calls himself? It's obvious now, isn't it, what really happened?'
'You're saying that somehow the Harvestman ended up with John's
car—the one he stole from Petoskey—and it was him, not John, who the witnesses saw being picked up?'
'Yeah. Exactly.'
'So how do you explain John and the Harvestman tying up together again? I mean . . . it's a bit of a stretch, ain't it?'
'Not unless something happened between John and Cain. Something that ensured Cain would hunt him down.'
