Chapter Thirty-Three

Drake’s Den wasn’t the kind of destination most people chose to visit willingly. Located on the other side of the island, it required a ferry ride to Arlington Pass, followed by a twenty-mile drive on the other side of TSR 361, through the center of town, and into the desolate emptiness that resided on the far side. Drake’s Den had history and lore, the kind of history that made people think twice about checking it out to see if the stories were true.

Lancaster Drake had been powerful in his time, back in the sixties, when his illegal empire had ruled the stretches from Port Alene well into parts of Corpus Christi. His ventures were many, as were his loyalists, and he spread his favor to those who abided by his commands. Known for giving back to the community, he had parceled out some of his ill-gotten gains to local families who had lost husbands in his command and had given anonymous donations for parks and playgrounds. Supposedly, local leaders had known the money they received was tarnished, but they’d been all too happy to take it as long as its origins weren’t revealed. On both sides of the law, the lines blurred to the point of seeping into the ground, the ends not justifying the means but ignoring them instead.

Jamie pulled into the ferry line and took the road that wound down one side of the nearby park then hooked around the other. The view from Cookie’s passenger’s side window was the Corpus Christi channel. The moon offered its own soft light, and the waves crashed into the rocks with force. The regular run of the ferry disturbed the surf with its regular trips back and forth across the channel.

Cookie rolled down his window as he always did when they approached the ferry. The humid evening air rolled through the interior, and he leaned his head outside, his hair flickering back and forth with the whim of the winds.

During the summer months, the ferry line could take an hour or longer, with each ferry capable of transporting twenty vehicles at a time across the water. Jamie was pleased to find the ferry line relatively short, consisting of only a few cars. She drove slowly toward the ramp, the ferry director waving her through and directing her to pull into the right lane, behind a silver Dodge Ram with two black Labradors sticking their heads out the back window.

Cookie took note of the dogs in front of them. “Deuce is going to be pretty pissed if he finds out we rode the ferry without him. You know how much he loves it.”

“I thought the same thing, but you know, scary danger and hostage negotiations ahead, so maybe we can wait ’til next time.”

“Good point.”

The remaining cars lined up in rows behind them, and Jamie felt the strong thump of the ferry locking its back ramps, then the director handled the chains and secured everything. She turned the ignition off and stepped outside, with Cookie exiting as well. The two stood together, their arms resting on the side of the ferry, taking in the salt air and the pelicans and sandpipers perched on nearby wooden stumps alongside the gate entry.

“I wonder where the rest of these folks are going tonight,” Jamie observed, glancing around at the other cars parked on the ferry. They were moving at a steady clip now, the ferry’s motor rolling in a low hum, the water churning beneath it.

“I can tell you where they aren’t going,” Cookie said. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to go there if they didn’t have to.”

“Have you ever been?” Jamie asked.

“Once, when I was a teenager, and it scared the crap out of me. Really, it was just the stories about how many bodies had decomposed in the bay nearby, all courtesy of Lancaster Drake. It was like his personal burial ground, according to the old folks around here.”

“Sounds lovely,” Jamie replied sarcastically. “So, what does it look like?”

Cookie stuck his face forward a bit into the sea air as the ferry continued to travel across the channel. He reminded her of Deuce, who she was certain was still enjoying the lavish attention from Erin’s senior patrons. “I have no idea now, but there used to be a couple of buildings there. One was a restaurant he owned and was also a gambling hall that the cops seemed happy to ignore because of the money he sent their way. And another building was just a shack. My friends said that was where Drake used to interrogate his enemies before killing them and dumping them in the bay. They told me that there’s an inlet there that feeds out into the channel so the bodies would just get carried off with the tide.”

Jamie shuddered at the idea of how many bodies had actually been carried off due to Drake’s dealings, but a small part of her wondered if the story, like most of Port Alene lore, had been embellished as the tales were shared from one person to the next, each generation adding another layer of macabre mystery. Fishermen were known liars, after all, and most of the islanders enjoyed fishing.

When the ferry was a few short minutes from reaching Arlington Pass, Jamie signaled Cookie to get back in the car. As she slipped into the driver’s seat, he remained standing on the ferry’s side, taking in the last few moments of island breeze and the freedom it offered. They would soon trade that feeling of lightness for containment. Jamie reached for her cell phone, checking to make sure she hadn’t missed any texts from Boxer, Marissa, or Becky.

Nothing.

She then sent a quick text to Becky to let her know they were all okay and working on Erin’s safe return. Cookie returned to his seat and pulled the car door shut. He glanced at Jamie, who was typing on her screen. “Is this really the best time to be doing your online shopping?” he deadpanned.

“I have an idea for a bit more leverage since, you know, we have to walk in there like sitting ducks with no weapons.”

“I’m not completely on board with the ‘no weapons so Boxer can gun us down’ rule, okay?”

“I agree, but if we do anything to set him off, there’s no telling what will happen.”

Cookie grimaced, not in agreement but as if he understood her position. His eyes shifted as though he were considering where to hide his Glock 22.

“You know, if you switched to a Glock 19 like I did, it would be easier to hide.”

“How did you know what I was thinking?” Cookie asked.

She finished typing on her phone. “Because I’m thinking the same thing.”

“We still have time to decide what to do when we get there. The drive is a good half hour once we get off the ferry.” Cookie looked out the window. “I don’t want to be a sitting duck, Jamie.”

“Right there with you,” she replied.

The ferry arrived at the Arlington Pass landing, and Jamie waited as the director, sharply dressed in a reflective vest and jeans, released the chains and signaled the drivers to exit, pointing at each car specifically, letting them know to follow in order. Jamie knew better than to make those guys angry. It was best to follow their instructions and get off the ferry.

Her Tahoe drove over the metal incline with a small thump, then she found herself back on paved road. They traveled down TSR 361, taking note of the growing town and the increase in restaurants and convenience stores on each side of the road.

“Last chance to yell for help,” Cookie joked, pointing to a couple walking hand in hand inside a convenience store.

“You’re a sick puppy, you know that?”

The drive felt like an eternity. As each mile passed, Jamie made sure to stay at the speed limit, not wanting to attract any attention from local law enforcement, although she wondered if that might actually be a good thing. Excuse me, officer, could you please hide in the back seat of my car and have your weapon ready? Going to law enforcement for help would have been Jamie’s first choice. Unfortunately, such an act would almost guarantee Erin’s end.

The road had turned from small town to open land, with little more than trees and small bodies of water bordering it at any given time. The darkness was stronger, inkier, and deeper, like the waters that surrounded them. If an area could have claimed a mood, the land leading to Drake’s Den would have been ominous.

“Keep following this road, and there’s a small sign that says 461 on the left. Take that,” Cookie instructed. “You’re going to go for a couple of miles.”

Jamie turned onto the gravel road marked 461 and felt as though she were driving straight into a field. No markers, and nothing to look at save for some trees and brush in the distance. She continued until her headlights fell upon a building in the distance.

“Is this it?” she asked.

Cookie nodded. “Yep, that’s the old restaurant. Creepy, right?”

Creepy was an understatement. The restaurant sign was little more than a frame; no lettering or other indication of its name was visible. The building itself could have been salvaged if someone cared enough, although Jamie was betting the idea of a restaurant this remote held little appeal to anyone with common sense. One side of the roof had collapsed from decades of weather and neglect, the rot a reminder of what happened to things that were no longer loved. Jamie kept her car running and her lights on as she drove slowly toward the building. In the distance, she saw the shack.

“Is that it?” she asked Cookie, pointing to it.

He nodded. “Yep. Afraid of the stories those walls could tell.”

Jamie parked her car by the shack’s nearby field and turned the lights off but left the engine running. A car pulled in from behind the dilapidated restaurant and faced away from Jamie’s car on the opposite side. Each car shone a strong light in the center field in front of the restaurant and shack.

“Look over there.” Jamie pointed to the door of the shack, which was opening.

Erin stepped outside, squinting in the light. She took a few steps forward, revealing a second figure—Brian.

Brian pushed her to walk forward.

Behind him, one more person followed—Boxer.

Jamie felt a knot in her stomach, and her throat tightened at the image of Erin at the hands of two such cruel and careless men. Cookie reached his hand to hers and gave it a small squeeze before letting go.

From the distance, Jamie could see Brian was holding something at Erin’s back—most likely a gun—keeping her in line and letting Jamie know that he was in charge.

“Here we go.” Jamie gave Cookie a nod. “Let’s get our girl out of here safely.”