Chapter Thirty-Two

We have the journals.

Jamie hit “send” on the text to Boxer and held her breath. She had let half an hour pass to allow Marissa a head start to coordinate with her people, and she also wanted Boxer to believe that she’d needed to work hard to get them in her possession. She shuddered to think what might have happened if he’d realized the journals had been in Erin’s safe all along. There would have been no leverage, and no telling if Boxer would’ve been willing to leave Erin in good health after getting what he wanted. That remained the biggest concern.

They were in limbo, waiting. They needed a small distraction, anything, to keep their minds off the fact that Boxer held their friend and that she remained in danger as long as she was under his control.

“Let’s get out of this field,” Jamie said. “It’s a bit creepy standing out here.”

Cookie nodded, and the two returned to her car. Jamie placed her cell phone back in her cup holder with the screen facing her in case any other communication came in regarding Erin’s condition.

After meeting with Marissa, the two floundered directionless, not sure where to go or what to do next, so they drove down Highway 361 with no destination in mind. Cookie’s jokes fell flat, and Jamie had little to say at all. In past difficult situations, the pair’s sarcastic banter had always helped them manage any anxiety in the moment. But with Erin in danger, they found no comfort in their usual coping mechanisms.

Jamie turned into the Save-N-Go parking lot and pulled up to the gas pump. She hadn’t realized she was close to driving on fumes, as her attention was focused on bigger things. The convenience store was busy with what Jamie surmised were twenty-somethings stocking up on beer, cigarettes, and packaged snack cakes. She witnessed two middle-aged men, dressed in T-shirts, cargo shorts, and flip-flops, leaving the store, eating hot dogs. She shuddered at the thought. All the great food on the island, and they eat that crap?

She turned off the ignition, not that Cookie noticed. He remained looking straight ahead, lost in his thoughts. Jamie gave his meaty arm a small poke. “Why don’t you go inside and get some sodas? I could use some caffeine right now.”

“You got it.” He opened the door and stepped out. Jamie watched him as he walked into the store, hunched forward, his posture not tall and strong as usual. He wore his worry in his stance; the weight of Erin’s safety sat square on his shoulders. Jamie knew the feeling all too well.

After swiping her credit card and filling her tank with gas, she closed her gas tank and glanced toward the store’s front entrance. Cookie was coming her way, a plastic bag swinging from his right hand. He slipped inside the passenger’s seat and moved Jamie’s phone to the small divider between their seats so he could put the drinks in the cup holders.

“You know what we need with this?” she asked.

“What?”

“Taqueria San Juan tacos, bean and cheese for sure,” she said, trying to get a smile from him.

“I don’t really feel like eating,” he replied. “Just not in the mood.”

“Let’s hit the drive-through while we wait, and maybe you’ll change your mind once you get a whiff of that intoxicating smell from the drive-through window.”

Traffic picked up now that evening had come, and Jamie caught glimpses of groups of college girls walking down Island Main, dressed in appropriately beachy summer dresses in colorful patterns. They wore beaded sandals, and crocheted, fabric-print handbags swung from their shoulders.

Taqueria San Juan’s was hopping already, the parking lot packed with cars and the drive-through busy with people uninterested in table dining. In truth, San Juan’s delivered food less than ten minutes after ordering because their cooks were faster than most track stars. But Jamie knew sitting down to a meal was something neither of them found appealing at the moment. If they had to wait, they would wait in the car like they did during long surveillance jobs. It was comforting, somehow, knowing they were ready to bolt at any minute.

Jamie bought eight bean-and-cheese tacos with the understanding that she and Cookie might be hungry later, something they often did when working surveillance. Still in the parking lot, Jamie unwrapped one and began eating. Cookie glanced over at her, and after a few minutes, reached for the bag and retrieved one for himself.

“Sometimes it’s good to eat your feelings,” Jamie joked.

Cookie couldn’t help but smile. “My feelings are delicious.” He grinned, and the taco disappeared in short order. They each cleared two before taking a break. They sat in the parking lot, watching groups of people enter and leave San Juan’s, and Jamie realized how much she enjoyed being part of Port Alene. She liked having favorite local restaurants, knowing the latest town gossip, and helping neighbors when they didn’t know where else to turn. For the first time in her life, Port Alene had given her a sense of belonging. She was no longer a drifter, but a member… with roots.

Jamie’s phone pinged, alerting her to a text. She and Cookie shared a glance, then she reached for her phone, which was resting face down in between them on the center console. She held the phone for Cookie to see. Boxer had finally replied.

Drake’s Den. Come alone. One Hour.

Cookie shook his head at this command. “There’s no way you’re doing this solo. No way. It’s dangerous enough with the two of us.”

Cookie comes. Not negotiable.

The duo waited, staring at the phone for several minutes before a response came through.

Jamie’s heart pounded in her chest, the sound loud in her ears, as she wondered if she had pushed too far in the negotiation for Erin’s life.

Fine. No weapons.

Done.

Jamie took a deep breath and exhaled with the force of a strong wind. “I’m surprised he agreed to that,” she said.

“Better to negotiate it up front because I would have come anyway, and that could have been a problem. Besides, if we can’t pack, how much of a threat could we be?”

“I hate going in that way; no way to protect ourselves.”

“I know.” His brow furrowed with worry. “We’re going to have to trust that Marissa can protect us.”

“How do you feel about that?”

Cookie cocked his chin to the side, shrugging his shoulders. “Nothing we can do, right? We have to have faith.”

Jamie texted Marissa the details of the meeting, and the woman replied immediately.

Got it. See you then.

“I hope we’re doing the right thing,” Cookie said, reading Marissa’s text message.

“Me too, Cookie. Me too.”

“You ready?”

Jamie nodded and put her car in drive. “Let’s go get our girl back.”