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I wait.

Every cell in my body wants to move. Drive. Search. Do something. But driving blind wastes time.

Callie doesn't have time for me to be stupid.

“There are a dozen back roads through there,” Smoke finally says. “Most of them cut toward the old quarry or circle back toward Route Eleven.”

“Quarry?”

“Closed years ago. The whole area around it is mostly woods. A couple of old properties. Hunting cabins. Farm roads.”

Bishop is already pointing at his man.

“Send everything you know.”

“I will.”

Alibi barks somewhere in the background. The sound nearly fucking breaks something in me.

Smoke exhales. “Bring her back.”

I hang up.

Bishop's man turns the tablet toward us.

My jaw clenches. Map. Roads. Too many fucking roads.

“We start here,” Bishop says, pointing to the last camera hit. “Split coverage. I'll send two vehicles east. We take the quarry roads.”

My phone rings.

Unknown number.

I answer immediately. “McConnell.”

“Uh... is this Roman McConnell?”

“Yes.”

“This is Deputy Harris with the county sheriff's office.”

My eyes meet Bishop's.

“We found your number through the Hollow Creek department. You're listed as the person who dropped off Callie Quinn?”

“Yes.”

“We may have found the vehicle involved.”

Everything inside me goes silent. “Where?”

He gives me the road.

Bishop's man is already searching it. Miller Road.

My pulse kicks. “Condition?”

“Vehicle hit a tree near the intersection at Old Quarry Road.”