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 there?”
“Nope. Got no reason to. I’ll call you if we find anything on Gillette.” He hurried to his car before Jake could ask him any more questions. If Jake didn’t know better, he’d think the idea of going to Mystic Glades had Holder...scared. But that didn’t make sense.
The deputy’s tires kicked up dirt on the side of the road as he took off. He headed down the highway to make the turn toward Naples, leaving Jake alone, just like last night—minus Gillette’s car. And minus the mysterious woman calling herself Faye Star.
He shook his head, thoroughly confused and aggravated over Holder’s lack of interest in helping him. But searching the woods where Gillette’s car was found, when the experts deemed it too dangerous, wasn’t an option Jake wanted to pursue on his own. However, finding Faye Star was like a godsend, a bonus. He’d bet money that she knew more about the crash than she’d told him. And she just might be able to lead him to Gillette, assuming Gillette was still alive. Jake sure hoped so. He was acting as a pseudo-bounty hunter on this case. And if he couldn’t produce Gillette, his fee would be cut in half.
A few minutes later he was driving toward mile marker eighty-four, searching for a road to a town that wasn’t even a real town.
The traffic was light, but Jake still kept an eye out for other cars and trucks. Alligator Alley was notorious for accidents. The eastern portion in Broward County was hemmed in by acres of saw grass that lured drivers into boredom and inattention. This western portion was just as monotonous, with its endless miles of pines bordering the highway, hiding the beauty of the marsh, canals and tree islands behind them.
But the deadliest ingredient to the crashes was the high speeds. Jake didn’t want to become a statistic because some driver hitting the hundred-mile-per-hour mark didn’t realize how slow Jake was going until they were on his bumper. For that reason, he pulled to the shoulder whenever he saw a fast-moving car coming up from the rear.
It took two passes and a full hour before he found the entrance to the nearly hidden road. It was where Holder had said, but so hidden he’d never have found it without specifically looking for it. And even though he was heading east, he had to make a sharp 180-degree turn right after a guardrail and drive parallel to the highway on a steep incline beside the wildlife fence to follow the road. It would have been the perfect spot for a speed trap, because no one up on the highway could see it down here.
When he reached a canal that ran beneath I-75, the dirt road turned the opposite way, directly toward the wildlife fence. As he neared the fence, it slid open to allow his car through. It must have had an electric sensor. But since it was right by the area where wildlife was funneled beneath the highway, it was unlikely any of the critters would have a reason to go near this section of the fence. The design of this little road seemed genius—almost completely hidden but still maintaining the integrity of the protective fences to keep drivers on the highway safe from wild animals running across the road.
About eight miles later he’d driven through several groves of oaks and pines, through a small raised section of road surrounded by saw grass, and then back into a thick tree island with bogs and marsh on both sides of the road. But he still hadn’t located the illusive town. And for some reason the GPS map in his car was going nuts, its directional arrows blinking off and on. One moment it appeared he was traveling south, the next moment the GPS said he was going north. The crazy thing was completely useless. He tried punching up a map on his cell phone but there were no bars, no connection. He cursed and shoved it back in his pocket.
He was debating performing a three-point turn to head back to the highway when a black blur ran across the road in front of him. He skidded sideways, narrowly missing a panther—just like last night—and barely managing to keep his car from sliding into the marsh.
The wild cat bounded into the woods on the south side of the road, or at least, the direction Jake thought was south. Apparently the endangered