“You didn’t text Paul back, though. Or call.”

“Right, because I thought the text was for someone else. You know how you sometimes accidentally do that, right? You’re in a rush, make a mistake, whatever. So I just, you know, ignored it.”

“See, my operating theory is that Paul has to have people working for him besides that lone shooter in my neighbor’s window,” Sebastian said. “And Paul’s text—he says we’ll all regroup. Right there, that tells me there’s got to be at least three guys involved in this.”

“What did this Ferreria guy have to say?”

“This is about you. Paul sent that text to you. And Ferreria.”

“I don’t know him, never met him, I swear.”

“But you just said you’re not good with names.”

“I’m not. I—”

“So it’s possible you could have met him.”

Link’s gaze turned inward on some private thought. Or secret.

“All I want is the truth,” Sebastian said.

Link closed his eyes and, shaking, took in a deep breath of air.

Sebastian ate the last bite, spoke around the food. “Give me the truth, my man, and the good Lord shall set you free.”

Link began to sob, his chest heaving, but he couldn’t produce any tears on account of the dehydration.

“You seem like a bright kid—a good kid,” Sebastian said. “Paul is a psycho piece of shit. I always suspected he was, truth be told—and I brought him into this. That’s on me. I take full responsibility for that. What I don’t understand, Link, is why you’re protecting—”

“I’m not. Don’t you see? I’m the—I’m that thing there, the whatchamacallit—the herring. The red herring.”

“The what?”

“The diversion,” Link said. “You’re focusing all of your energy on me, so you’re not out there looking for him.”

“Oh, we’re looking for him—don’t you worry. And we will find him. What I’m hoping is you’ll come to your senses, tell us what we need to—”

Link slid off the back bumper, like he was going to faint or something, only he dropped to his knees, in the sand.

Sebastian opened a bottle of water. Christ, it was hot out here.

“Please.” The kid clutched Sebastian’s leg and looked up at him, squinting. “Please,” he said again, and then he swayed, looking like he was going to pass out. Instead, he leaned forward and grabbed Sebastian by the ankle, Link resting his forehead on his loafer and speaking into the dirt as he cried, “I swear to God, I’m telling you the truth. You’ve got to believe me. I’m begging you.”

Sebastian did believe him. Unfortunately. The kid had stuck to this story from day one, through all the torture and sleep deprivation and hunger. Coming here, treating Link like a human being again, showing him some kindness and giving him food and water while he looked out at the vast desert and, hopefully, pondered his fate—Sebastian hoped it would spur the kid into finally giving up what he knew about Paul. Maybe Link couldn’t give anything because he didn’t have anything to give.