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He studies me for half a second, then points toward the road. “Rear passenger side. Someone got out there.”

I walk around the SUV.

Blood on the steering wheel. More on the driver's side. A lot more than there was in the restroom.

I stare at it.

Mercer.

It has to be.

I hope it fucking is.

The rear seat is empty.

Loose rope lies on the floor. One end is stained with blood.

I crouch.

Callie.

I can see her in my head. Hands tied. Working at it. Refusing to stop.

How the fuck did the SUV crash?

I look at the driver's seat again. At the blood. The cracked windshield. The tree that the SUV is wrapped around.

Then the back seat.

A laugh almost escapes me. Not because anything is funny. Because I know her.

“She did this.”

Bishop stops beside me. “What?”

I point at the rope. “She got loose.”

“We don't know that.”

“I do.” I stand. “She was in the back. He was driving.” My eyes move over the interior. “He didn't crash because he forgot how to fucking drive.”

Bishop looks at the windshield, then at me.

“She attacked him.”

Something hot and vicious moves through my chest.

Chaos.

Of course she fucking did.

Deputy Harris approaches. “We found blood outside too.”

“Where?”

He leads us away from the SUV to a few spots on the pavement.

Then nothing.