Randle eased the car behind the cruiser in the woods and cut the ignition.
Friar leaned forward and read the decal across the trunk. “That’s Otis’s car, all right. They went off road with it something considerable. Why you suppose they did that?”
Randle checked his gun and ammo. “Only one way to find out.”
“I ain’t too keen on participating in that one way, Terry.”
Randle looked at him, cockeyed. “We’re cops, Deputy. That’s what we do.” Even he had a hard time believing what he was saying, given his past propensity to avoid police work.
“I ain’t a cop all the way out here. No, sir. This is out of my jurisdiction by a good bit.”
Randle pointed to the cruiser. “Then we’re here to check up on a friend. Make sure she’s okay.”
“Friend? You ain’t had a good word to say about her since she joined up with the force.”
Randle grabbed Friar by the shirt collar. “I promised Otis I’d make sure she was safe.”
Friar hesitated before asking, “They killed him, didn’t they? Those state police didn’t come to help us out. Otherwise we wouldn’t’ve run like we did.”
Randle released him. “We didn’t run from nothing, we run to something.” He pointed to the cruiser. “Now, you gonna gear up and join me, or are you gonna piss your baby pants here in this car by your lonesome?”
Friar considered his question and then checked his weapon and ammo.