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“Fine.”

“That wasn't what I asked.”

“It’s healing.”

“Pierce clear you?”

“Not yet.”

“Then you're not fine.”

I roll my eyes. “You call to check on my health, Mom?”

Silence.

I almost smile.

“Three days,” Bishop says.

My amusement disappears. “Why the hell do I have to wait?”

He doesn’t answer the question. “The scene is clean. Nothing's surfaced. No police interest that leads back to you.”

“Then release me now.”

“No.”

“Bishop.”

“Three days.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“A little.”

The line goes dead.

I stare at the phone.

Asshole.

Without thinking, I open Instagram again. Callie hasn’t posted any new Stories.

I refresh.

Nothing.

I wait a few seconds, then refresh again.

Still nothing.

I toss the phone down.

Maybe she's finally doing something productive instead of posting every fucking thought she has online.

I last another few minutes before picking it up again.

I refresh.