Save Her Soul (Detective Josie Quinn #9)(13)

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not many,” he answered. “But you’re right. It is getting late. We’ll get going soon, okay?” He picked up his beer and slugged down what was left of it. “One more, okay?”

Josie huddled inside his jacket, grateful for its warmth. “Just one though, okay?”

“Chill, Jo,” he said.

He hopped down from the rock where they sat and sauntered over to a group of guys from the baseball team. They gathered in a knot next to the campfire, all in their letter jackets, all laughing and carrying on, some accompanied by their girlfriends. “Quinn!” one of them said as Ray approached. He handed Ray a beer. “Let’s get messed up! What do you say?”

Ray took the beer and smiled. “Can’t. We’ve got school and practice tomorrow. I don’t want to be hungover.”

A collective groan went up around the group. “Live a little, Quinn,” another boy said. His name was Harley. He was the catcher.

“Yeah,” said a third boy, Carter, one of the relief pitchers. “You don’t have to do everything your mommy says.”

Carter said the word mommy with sarcastic emphasis and a pointed look at Josie.

“Dude,” said Harley. “Don’t talk about his girl. He’ll kick your ass.”

Josie was already striding over to the group. “Ray,” she said. “Let’s go.” In the firelight, she saw a muscle in his jaw tic. “It’s not worth it,” she told him in a tone only he could hear.

“Go ahead, Quinn. Go home with your mommy,” teased Carter.

Josie turned to him. “Ever wonder why you’re so far down on the lineup, Carter? Why you’re not a starting pitcher?”

All conversation stopped. Josie felt everyone’s eyes on her. Carter glared at her, his dark eyes glittering in the flickering light. Josie leaned into him. “It’s your bad attitude,” she told him.

He shook his head. “Shut up, bi—”

“Watch it,” Ray said, pushing Carter’s shoulder, hard.

Harley stepped between them, both of his hands up. “Come on, guys. Chill out.”

Ray pushed the unopened can of beer into Harley’s chest. “I’m leaving,” he said. “I’ll see you assholes at practice tomorrow.”

He laced his fingers through Josie’s and pulled her along to the school parking lot. As they reached her grandmother’s car, Josie said, “You know, Ray, you don’t have to fight everyone who acts like a jerk.”

He smiled at her. “I do if they disrespect you.”

She peeled off his jacket and handed it to him.

“Keep it,” he said. “Won’t you be cold?”

“Not in the car,” she said. “Take it.”

He shrugged it on before sliding into the passenger’s seat.

Josie got in and started the car. “I’m just saying, Ray. You don’t have to pick a fight every single time. You could have let that one slide.”

He reached over and put a warm hand on her thigh. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about Carter, or any of those guys. I don’t give a shit about anyone else on this entire planet except you, Jo. Only you.”

Josie felt a flush rise in her cheeks as she turned out of the Denton East parking lot and onto a rural road bathed in night. To her left was forest, trees reaching out from the darkness with their thin branches. To her right was a wide-open field. With the moon hidden behind thick clouds, the night was blanketed in darkness. There were no streetlights or even residences with lights on inside. As they crested a small hill, blue and red police lights spun in the distance. Ahead, a Denton PD cruiser had pulled someone over.

“What’s this?” Josie wondered out loud. She slowed the vehicle as they approached.

“I recognize that car,” Ray said. “It’s some girl in our class. Oh, what the hell is her name?”

As they passed, they saw a Denton police officer standing beside the small blue sedan he’d pulled over. He opened the driver’s side door, and Josie saw a flash of blonde hair. The officer motioned for the girl to get out. His head swiveled toward them as they rolled slowly past.

“Shit,” Josie said. “That’s Frisk.”

“Go back,” Ray said, turning his head to look behind them. “Quick.”

Frisk was the nickname the kids had for Officer James Lampson. He was known for pulling over teenage girls for simple violations—or sometimes no violation at all—and making them get out of their cars so he could frisk them. Only the rumors were that the frisking was a little too familiar.

Josie pulled up on the opposite side of the road beneath a canopy of trees, stopping parallel to Frisk and the sedan. Ray said, “Lana, that’s her name.”

Josie eyed Frisk as she unbuckled her seatbelt. Both he and his prey were well-illuminated by the headlights of his cruiser. Lana stood beside him, facing away from Josie. Her legs were spread far apart, both hands up against the car. Frisk stared back at Josie. “Stay here,” she said.

Ray grabbed her wrist. “Are you kidding me? No. You stay here. I’ll go.”

“You think I can’t handle Frisk?”

“Jo, I know you can handle anyone. That’s not the issue. Frisk is a pig. He’ll take it better if I go over.”