the cable warning system. What led you to this location?”
“Incentive.”
Holder raised a brow in question.
Jake smiled reluctantly. “I need to pay my rent, on both my apartment and my new business. The man who hired me to find Gillette is my first well-paying client. So, I’ve been busting my hump to figure out what happened. I interviewed dozens of people in Naples near his home and figured out that he’d driven down Alligator Alley the morning he disappeared. I became a pest at the rest areas asking commuters if they’d seen a maroon Ford Taurus the day he went missing. A handful of them thought they may have seen his car. I was able to narrow it down to a five-mile section of highway.”
Holder had the grace to flush a light red. “Reckon we could have done the same, but our resources are limited with a heavy caseload. And it never occurred to me that he could have crashed his car out here without triggering the cable system.”
Jake didn’t bother to remind him that it had happened once before. He sympathized with Holder’s position. He knew all about budgets and manpower and prioritizing cases.
“I don’t remember you telling me the name of the client who hired you,” Holder said.
“That’s because I didn’t.” And he didn’t intend to. Quinn had been very specific about that. He didn’t want to risk a leak that could spook Gillette if he somehow heard that the FBI was actively looking for him.
Holder’s mouth tightened but he didn’t press the issue.
Half an hour later, the CSI team finished its work, and the tow truck driver began the laborious job of winching the car out of the woods using the long cable attached to his truck parked on the shoulder of the highway.
Jake accompanied Deputy Holder to firmer ground and they both watched from beside Jake’s Charger as the Taurus was hauled up the slope. Less than an hour later, the deputies who’d been searching the woods for Gillette emerged from the trees and climbed up on the shoulder to confer with Holder. Jake figured they’d found something, or were requesting more equipment. Instead, Holder clapped a few of them on the back and signaled to the DOT crew waiting by the fence. The workers immediately rolled the chain link into place and began refastening it to the poles.
“What’s going on?” Jake asked.
Holder turned to him. “The search is over. They didn’t find a trail, nothing to indicate where Gillette might have gone. They went all the way back to the marsh. We’ll do some flyovers in a helicopter, put out the word on the news, but there’s nothing else we can do here.”
Frustration had Jake’s hands tightening into fists at his sides. Gillette was a seedy character who lived under the radar, taking odd jobs for cash. And he was rumored to be a petty thief in addition to the background Quinn had supplied. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t get the same attention a more affluent or socially prominent person would receive in the same situation.
“I don’t understand,” Jake said, trying again. “You know he has to be around here somewhere. He couldn’t have just vanished.”
“If I thought there was any chance he was still alive, or that we could locate his body, I’d throw everything I had at him. But I don’t, and none of my men do either.”
Jake tamped down his anger. He didn’t know this area, its dangers. Maybe Holder was right, even though everything about this felt wrong.
“Then what do you think happened to him?” Jake asked.
“The same thing that happens to anyone lost out here this long—gators, snakes, other wild animals. More than likely his remains will never be found. We had a DC-9 crash into the Everglades just west of Miami years ago. Barely left a trace to show it had ever existed. You have to respect the environment around here and understand how it all works if you’re going to thrive or survive.”
There was no mistaking the hard glint in Holder’s eyes, or his harsh undertone. The double meaning behind his words was clear. Jake needed to respect the Collier County Sheriff’s Office if his business was going to thrive. Jake gave the deputy a curt nod, letting him know he got the message.
The remaining emergency vehicles and DOT truck headed out, leaving Jake and Holder alone on the shoulder beside their cars. What little traffic had backed up at this noonday hour was quickly getting back to normal.
“Did your team find anything useful that would at least explain why Gillette was driving east down Alligator Alley?” Jake asked.
“Not yet. My guys will process the evidence back in Naples, search his apartment again and interview a few more people. I’ll also have some officers canvass the rest stops and recreational areas on I-75 for potential witnesses. If we find anything, I’ll give you a call.”
“What about the potential witness I already told you about, Faye Star? Are you going to interview her?” At Holder’s exasperated look, Jake said, “I know you think Gillette’s dead, but until I know for sure, I have to keep investigating. I think she might know something, or she saw something.”
Holder let out a deep sigh. “Faye Star? Can’t say I’ve ever heard of her. Did she give you an address?”
“Only a vague direction. She wasn’t exactly cooperative. She waved her hand southwest and said she lived a few miles ‘that way,’” Jake said. “Without a car she can’t live far from here. She certainly didn’t walk all the way from Naples. Are there any towns nearby?”
“Not really.” He rubbed his jaw, looking hesitant. “I suppose you could try Mystic Glades.”
Jake pulled out his cell phone and opened up a map on his screen. He typed in the name of the town, but nothing came up. “I’m not finding it. Mystic Glades you said?”
“You won’t find it on any map. It’s unincorporated, not even a real town. It’s more like a collection of houses and a few businesses that just kind of popped up in the middle of the swamp. It was created using leftover buildings that housed construction workers when Alligator Alley was being built decades ago.”
“Is it back toward Naples or the other way?”
“Other way. About ten miles east, around mile marker eighty-four.”
“Ten miles? I don’t think Miss Star would have hoofed it back that far at night in an area this dangerous.”
Holder shrugged. “There’s nothing else around here that I know of, although I suppose it’s possible. You said she was uncooperative, didn’t want to talk to you. Well, maybe she had an ATV. She could have pushed it until she was far enough away that you wouldn’t hear the engine when she turned it on.”
“Maybe so. But I’m still not sure where this Mystic Glades is located. I’ve been up and down this highway since yesterday morning. I don’t remember a town close by, even an unincorporated one.”
“It’s a bit back from the road, sheltered in one of those tree islands in the saw grass marsh, right where it starts to get really wet and the cypress trees begin. There’s a road, of sorts, leading off Alligator Alley to the town. Or so I hear.” He fished his keys out of his pocket, seeming anxious to leave.
“What do you mean, ‘so I hear’? You’ve never been
