“Josie,” my dad sighs into the phone, and I can hear the relief.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, pushing on Bam’s chest so that I can sit up. I can tell by the tone of my dad’s voice that something isn’t right. Bam’s brows pull together in concern too.
“I woke up to the police pounding on my door.” Shit, yeah, that would freak me out too, and I’d think the worst.
“I thought you took care of those warrants.”
“Josie…”
“Okay, I’ll be serious. Why is the fuzz there?” Okay, I’ll be as serious as I can be. I make jokes when I’m nervous too. I heard that’s a thing, and if I can blame my bad traits on something I can’t control, then I’m doing just that.
“You tell me. They’re asking for you. Do I need to tell them to fuck off and call a lawyer?” That sounds like the right thing to do, but the right thing doesn’t get me information.
“No!”
“Yes.” Bam and I speak at the same time.
“Josie, are they here asking for you because of Bam?” Guess my dad’s not coming around about Bam as much as I thought. Bam’s shoulders drop a fraction. I hate that my father just assumed that.
“No, I can get into trouble all on my own, thank you very much,” I huffily tell him. “Don’t be sexist.”
“I’m not sexist. I’m a father who thinks their kid can do no wrong.”
“Oh, right.” It could be that too. Bam’s brows now rise, and his lips tug up on one side. I want to lean over and press my mouth to his, but I don’t think Bam would be too happy about that. Not with my dad still on the line. “This is true. I’m perfect, really.” I get Bam’s sad smile to turn to a full-on one, just what I wanted.
“Are you in trouble?” Dad asks, probably not finding me as adorably charming as Bam here.
“Nope.” I pop my P hard. “I am the trouble.” Shit. “Sorry!” I rush to say. “It’s hard to control. But no, I’m not in trouble. Keep them there. We’re headed that way.”
“All right. Love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you too, Dad,” I tell him before ending the call.
“You should never speak to the police,” Bam tells me. I’m already getting up and dressed.
“I know, I know.” I wave it off. “But that’s not an option. If anything, I need to make friends with them.” Bam gets up, pulling on a long-sleeved shirt, covering his tattoos.
“I don’t like it.” Bam runs his fingers through his short hair before giving it a small tug, frustrated.
“I really haven’t done anything and?—”
“A lot of people didn’t do shit wrong, and they still got arrested.”
“I don’t think the cops are going to believe that I killed Cole, or if they’re on to all the other boys missing, them either.” I pull my sneakers on. “You think maybe you shouldn’t go?”
“Oh, I’m coming, Rebel. I’m your shadow until this is all said and done.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” I wiggle my brows at him. He fights a laugh, but I know I have amused him. Hopefully that makes him relax, but not likely.
Chapter Thirty-One
BAM
I’ve never been a fan of the police, and there’s nothing about this questioning that changes my mind. There are two detectives. One is a youngish guy, probably in his thirties, and the other is a woman, older, almost grandmotherly.
“When you questioned this Andy, what did she tell you?”
“She didn’t know anything.”
