He blew out a sharp breath. “Not sure. We’ve been out all day, searching. Still have a lot more ground to cover. It’s slow going. The quarry is deep. The woods are thick. The marshes are worse.”
“I’m guessing that means you haven’t found anything.”
He was silent.
I took that as confirmation. “Damn it.”
“Much as I’d rather stay on the phone with you all night, knowing you’re naked under my sheets on the other side of the receiver…” His voice took on an edge of frustration. “I’ve got a lot of shit to do. May not be there for hours.”
“I don’t want to keep you. I just… I have something I wanted to tell you.”
“You’ve got thirty seconds.”
Shit, he was bossy sometimes.
At warp-speed, I described my visit to Oak Grove, and the fruitless vision I’d had there. When I was finished, Cade was quiet. Processing.
“Cade?”
“I’m here.”
“You’re not saying anything.”
He sighed deeply. “Imogen, I know you’re eager to help in any way you can. It’s tempting to look for connections where there aren’t any.”
“But—”
“I get that there are similarities between Annie Thurman’s disappearance and Rory’s. I do. And I’m not saying you’re off base. I’m just not convinced a case from eighteen years ago is in any way related to what’s going on now.”
His words were a blow to my self-confidence.
“You don’t believe me.”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you.” His voice went gentle. “But, even if you’re right, you said it yourself: Annie Thurman isn’t talking. Not to me with words, not to you with your visions. Why would I waste my time on a dead end?”
A dead end.
He thought I was grasping at straws. And hell, maybe I was. But it still hurt, hearing he thought my hunch was essentially a fool’s errand.
“Imogen.” Cade sighed, sounding worn out. “I really need to go.”
“Wait! One more thing.” I forced myself to set aside my wounded pride and ask. For Rory’s sake. “If the evidence box from the Thurman case is still in storage at SPD, maybe there’s something in there that could spark a vision. Maybe?—”
“Imogen, enough,” Cade clipped.
My mouth clicked shut.
He’d never used that tone with me before.
“Fuck. Look, I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t have time for this right now. I’m knee-deep in pond water. I’ve spent twelve hours wading through creeks and riverbeds, looking for the body of a seven-year-old.” His frustration was so raw, it hurt to hear. “Forgive me if some old case files aren’t my number one priority tonight.”
I couldn’t help flinching.
“This shit will have to wait,” he went on.
This shit.
This.