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Old Quarry. Smoke's words echo in my head.

“Is she there?”

There’s a long pause.

“Deputy.”

“No one's in the vehicle.”

I close my eyes for a few seconds, then open them.

“Blood?”

“Yes.”

“Bodies?”

“No.”

“Tracks?”

Another pause.

“Sir, we're still assessing the scene.”

“Are there tracks?”

Bishop holds out his hand for the phone. I don't give it to him.

“Looks like someone exited through the rear passenger side.”

“Anything else?”

“There's a length of rope in the back.”

My heart slams against my ribs.

Rope. He tied her.

I grip the phone harder. “And?”

“Possible foot traffic away from the vehicle. We have deputies coming.”

“Don't touch the rope.”

“Sir—”

“Don't fucking touch anything.”

Bishop takes the phone from me. This time I let him.

He starts talking to the deputy. I don't listen.

I look at the map.

Miller Road.

Old Quarry.