A Crying Shame (159 page)

Special deputy,” the trooper muttered.
Goddamned drunk wearing a badge, that's what you are.” He started to ask how many schools dealing with law enforcement had the man attended; how many hundreds of hours had he spent in classrooms and at the police academy; did he even know how to read a suspect his rights?

But the trooper kept his mouth shut and his opinion of
deputized good ol' boys” to himself.

The trooper looked at the battered bruised young lady.
Miss? What in the world do you plan on doing with that . . . thing?” He glanced at Fru-die and fought back a shudder.

She shook her head.
I don't know. But I don't want him harmed. He saved my life.”

Are you hurt, miss?”

I've been raped. Several times. I'll live. But I'm . . . pretty sore. You know?”

The smell of raw whiskey was strong in the night air. A good ol' boy giggled in the darkness.
You 'member the cock on that one we killed?” he whispered hoarsely, his voice carrying through the air.
I bet you she liked it, don't you? I'd like to have seen her when one of them got it all in; all women dream about big cocks.”

His friends laughed.

The trooper fought back a sudden wild, hot urge to shoot him. The good ol' boy, not the Link. With the invisible warning system that all cops develop after a few years on the job, the trooper sensed trouble was in the air. He looked at Jean.
I've got to call for backup on this, miss. Please keep that ... thing under control, will you?”

Jean patted the Link's hand.
He won't bother a soul.”

Wonderful,” the trooper muttered.
I can't tell you how reassured I am.”