You got scared.
Maybe I wasn’t a hundred percent sure at the time. I just had a bad feeling, and I went with it. But look what happened to the dealer. The dealer stuck around. Now he’s a chumline in Absecon Bay.
You didn’t actually see what happened to him.
No, Curtis, I didn’t. I didn’t hide in the bushes while Damon and his triggerman loaded the body in a trunk. I didn’t follow them to the harbor like Nancy fucking Drew. You’re absolutely right. I’m being silly. The Jersey cops won’t give a shit about what I know. I’m sorry I wasted your time. But isn’t the lake lovely? Now come get your gun and shoot me in the head.
Did you take any of the money?
No, I didn’t take the fucking money! Is Damon saying I took the money?
Why not? Why’d you leave it?
Argos squirms, runs a hand through his hair. It wasn’t winnings, he says. It was stolen. Which, fine. But a lot of it was new bills. I wasn’t sure what to do with it. And Damon’s plan wasn’t seeming all that clever at the time. I opted to cut and run.
What did the dealer do?
He tried to stop me. He was freaking out. I tried to explain why I was leaving, but his English wasn’t too good. We got into it a little bit. I pushed him down. He probably would have chased me, but he didn’t want to lock himself out of the room.
What was his name?
He never told me. I didn’t see him until I sat down at his table, and then I didn’t think to look at his badge. When we met up later, I wasn’t there long enough to do any icebreaking activities. I found it on the internet yesterday, and wrote it down somewhere. Some Korean name.
Curtis squares his jaw, looks at the water. Grinding his teeth. He’s angry, enough to scare himself. Thinking about ways to get to the guns. The sun is high now. Some of the big birds he had taken for gulls are white pelicans, gliding inches off the water, fishing the reedy shallows, pressing long bills into their breasts.
What if the other guy wasn’t a hired gun? Curtis says. What if he was there to buy the cash?
What are you talking about? Argos says. But he knows what Curtis is talking about; he’s been thinking it too. It’s in his voice, if not his face.
You said yourself it was new bills, Curtis says. Maybe that was the other guy’s job, to wash the money. Maybe he wasn’t a shooter. Maybe the deal only went bad because you left, and they panicked, and they went after each other. Maybe this is all your fault, Argos. You ever think about that?
Argos smiles wanly, makes a dismissive gesture. I tend not to dwell on such stuff, he says. It makes me unhappy. This business is all about attit—
His smile evaporates. He sits up in his chair. What the fuck is that? he says.
Curtis’s chin drops in disbelief. You got to be kidding, he says. I’m supposed to turn my back now, right?
Something’s on the road.
Argos picks up the two pistols, puts them on the concrete, and tips back the lid of the cooler: bottles inside, along with a pair of binoculars, which Argos lifts to his face. This would be a good time to rush him, but Curtis can’t psych himself up for it. Probably just your imaginary friend with the rifle, he says. Sick of waiting on you.
It’s a car. Did you have anybody following you?
Nobody followed me, Curtis says. Thinking about it, though, he never really checked the cab’s mirrors. Still, it doesn’t seem possible.
Well, Argos says, I gotta run.
He steps to the dirtbike, throws open the saddlebag, stuffs the binoculars inside. Keep your shit together, Argos, Curtis says. It’s probably just the park ranger.
It’s not the ranger.
Argos tucks his gun into his waistband, then unloads Curtis’s revolver and puts it and the loose bullets in the cooler. Curtis rises from his seat. You’re just gonna leave me in the desert, huh? he says. How do you recommend I get back to town? I can’t use my phone out here.
Oh, you picked right up on that, didn’t you? Argos laughs. Pretty sharp. You got that phone from Damon, right?
Curtis blinks. What’s that got to do with anything?
He gave me one, too. Pretty nice phone. Funny thing, though. After I ducked Damon and his triggerman at the Point, for the next couple of days, I kept having these crazy close calls. I’d be sitting at a restaurant or some random place, I’d look up, and there Country Boy would be, looking around with his beady eyes. A couple of places I had to leave through kitchens and windows. But you know what? After I dumped the phone, that shit stopped. Sure, I know what you’re thinking: correlation ain’t causation. But if you’re wondering why I wanted to meet up way out here, well, that’s why.