Dani placed the phone on her uncle’s desk after she ended the call with Kenny. “It’s done.”
Otis groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Part of me was hoping Randle wouldn’t do us like that.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure he ain’t got a clue what he did. He’s just looking for beer money.”
“It don’t make me feel no better. A crooked cop is a crooked cop.” He whistled and yelled, “Friar!”
A man in an ill-fitting uniform and sporting a poorly constructed comb-over appeared in the doorway. “Yeah, sir.”
“Break out the vests and helmets. Stack the ammo out front and arm yourself with a Glock and 12-gauge.”
Friar’s cheeks turned bright red. “What the hell’s coming?”
Otis ignored his question and addressed his niece. “I want you on your way when your boys get here.”
Dani shook her head. “I’m staying here.”
“You ain’t.”
“I am!”
“Goddamn it, Dani! Me and Friar can handle a couple of slopers. Don’t worry about us. Worry about finding that little girl, you hear me?”
The deputy didn’t offer a third protest. Otis was right.
The sheriff shot Friar a death stare. “Did I not make myself clear, Deputy?”
“Yeah, sir,” Friar said, sounding uneasy.
“Then what the hell are you standing there for? Do what I told you!”
Friar vacillated. “You still ain’t told me what’s coming.”
Otis sighed and leaned back in his chair. “The mountains, boy.”