Bryce again swept me with the device and he seemed happy that I wasn’t wired or carrying any kind of bugs or location devices. As he did, he relaxed his grip on the gun. If I wanted to I could have taken him out then. A quick slash of my stiffened hand into his windpipe and that would have been that. But I didn’t. Like I’d told him earlier, I thought we were on the same side. Plus, the trouble I’d found myself in and the timeliness of Bryce’s sudden appearance were no coincidence.

“What’s going on, Bryce?”

He grimaced, but then nodded us forward. “Drive.”

So I drove.

We headed out on Kennedy Boulevard, sitting silently. Bryce angled the wing mirror so that he could keep an eye on the road behind us. He ordered me to take a left on a surface street, cutting through a housing scheme that appeared to be more trees than houses. Nice neighborhood. He watched for anyone following, but the road behind us was clear. He indicated me through a couple of turns and we came out on to another boulevard, this time Henderson. I took a sharp right and we headed back toward Kennedy on the Dale Mabry Highway. At Kennedy once more, he indicated that I continue driving west out of town. I glanced across at him. His eyes were on the mirror.

“There’s no one following.” I was pretty sure of that, considering I’d been checking for cops all morning. “I came alone, like I said I would.”

“It’s not anyone with you that’s troubling me, Hunter.” But that was all he’d say. He again fell silent, watching behind us for a tail that I was certain wasn’t there. We reached a crossroad and he gestured me through it and north on to Veterans Expressway. We were almost at Greater Northdale before Bryce finally put the gun away.

“Where am I going, Bryce?”

“Knowing Joe Hunter, you’ll have a safe house somewhere. Take us there.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“Only when I’m sure that it’s safe.”

He didn’t speak again until we were on U.S. 98, heading northwest for the Gulf Coast. When he did so, it seemed like there was a touch of regret behind his words.

“I always trusted you, Hunter. You were always a good man.”

“So why the gun, Bryce? Why all the precautions?”

“It’s the nature of the job, Hunter. You know that.”

“I’m not in the job anymore.” I looked across at him again. “Last I heard, neither are you. You retired, I was told.”

“People like us never retire.”

I couldn’t argue with that.