Chapter Eleven
“You really think we’ll get any answers tonight?” Billy Jo said.
The dog was leaning over her seat and panting. His breath was bad, he was drooling on her shoulder, and she was about to sneeze, as he was also shedding. Detective Mark Friessen seemed to have only two ways to drive, fast and faster, over dark, narrow roads with a few ruts here and there. Her hand was on the dash, and her purse was on the now cleared floor. She could hear the old takeout packaging rustling in the back.
“We’ll get something,” he said. “I’m not leaving until Todd answers my questions.”
There was something about this detective. He was so damn serious and focused. She wondered what his story was.
“I never asked you back at the beach, where that girl’s body was, if this kind of thing happens of
