Romans & histoires Block Island To Montauk Ferry

He was just another face in the gray light of the tunnel. He reached the pier by sunset. A small, rusted ferry waited. "Ticket?" the operator grunted, spitting a glob of tobacco onto the wooden planks. Rafferty handed over a crumpled wad of cash. No credit cards. No paper trail. "One way," Rafferty said. "To the island? Ain't nothing there but goats and salt air, kid." "Perfect."