“Did you go out there?”
He doesn’t need to specify where; we both know exactly what he’s asking. I’m nodding in response without him being able to see me.
“Yeah,” the word comes from me as a sigh. “I didn’t find anything McMinn hadn’t already found.”
My frustration spikes and I pinch the bridge of my nose as if it’ll relieve the tension which has been slowly eroding me all day.
I should have just stayed in bed today with Helen. I could see it in her eyes—if I had asked, she would have stayed at home with me and never gotten out of our bed.
And it is our bed.
The sigh that comes from Lyons is weary as fuck. “I didn’t think you would find anything, but I’m glad you went out there to check it out. I was going to do the same, but when you told me you were given the green light then I was going to see what you had to say about the scene.”
“It was all cleared out except it was clearly used recently. There was new trash there and the whole place is eerie, and it has nothing to do with the way the building is falling apart,” I tell him.
I don’t mention that it was also beautiful. He doesn’t need to know my opinion on that.
“Fuck, Wilder,” he grunts and I can feel his frustration like it’s a physical thing. Maybe that’s just because my own matches it. “I don’t know where else to look at this point.”
“I don’t either,” I admit. Even though I say it out loud and it’s true, I don’t like it. There’s no point in lying to Lyons or myself. “We’re spread thin and we’re no closer to finding a solid lead than we were months ago.”
“Exactly,” he agrees. “But we’ve done everything we can do. We’ve put patrols all over the county to keep their eyes on places where hiding is easy.”
“They haven’t found a damn thing,” I growl, my frustration mounting.
I don’t need to go over this same bullshit. Again. Every time I admit out loud that we have nothing on this case, I feel even more like shit.
“Can we keep putting resources toward this?”
The question is rhetorical coming from Lyons. I know it.
Istill answer anyway.
“No,” my voice is strained, “we can’t keep putting effort into this without there being something to keep the investigation moving forward.”
“Fuck,” Lyons sounds annoyed and frustrated.
“We can instruct our deputies to keep an eye out and keep checking in with surrounding counties,” I suggest even though we know we were going to no matter what.
“Of course,” Lyons grumbles.
I almost chuckle. Almost.
“You know I’m not giving you shit or telling you how to run your people.”
“Fuck you, Wilder. I know that.” He mutters under his breath, “As if you’d be able to tell me a damn thing anyway. I’ve been doing this job as long as you’ve been alive.”
I have to bite my tongue not to give him more shit. It would be easy and there is more than one bruise I could poke.
“Don’t be a dick to me, Lyons. I won’t just take it with a smile,” my voice is low with a dangerous quality to it.
That dangerous thing lives inside of me. There have only been a few times in my life when it’s come out to play. But if Lyons thinks he can disrespect me, I’m more than happy to remind him why that would be a bad idea; gently, of course.
He huffs out something that might be a chuckle, or it could be a sound of rage. Honestly, I don’t really care either way.
“I think it’s time to back off from this case,” Lyons’s voice is reasonable.
I fucking hate it.
