Chapter Eighteen
Bree felt like the entire world was falling out from under her. Tanner was saying other stuff, stuff meant to reassure her that Jeter wouldn’t get to her.
If Michael Jeter was out, there was nowhere on earth that he couldn’t get to her.
She’d spent much of her life running from him and the Organization, and that was before he’d known for sure she was alive. Now that he knew for certain she was and she’d helped get him arrested, he would never stop hunting her.
Her first inclination was to run. She was far from the emergency bug-out bag she had stashed at the ranch house, but she knew enough to know how to make herself disappear in a crowd. She could get completely off the grid and maybe find a way to evade Jeter long term.
She was actually turning toward the door, instinct to flee riding her harder than anything else, when Tanner’s hands came up and cupped her face.
“Breathe, freckles.”
Bree sucked in air and realized she had, in fact, been holding her breath.
“You’re not going to run,” he continued. “You’re not alone anymore.”
Her hands wrapped around his wrists like they were her lifeline. “Tanner, I know I’ve talked about Jeter, but you really don’t know the truth of it. I’m putting everyone in danger if he’s out. You. Your family. Everyone in Risk Peak. He’ll hurt them all.”
He brought his face closer to hers so it was the only thing she could see. “You’re not alone in this. Never again. No running, especially not until we have all the facts about Jeter.”
He stayed there, blocking out everything else, surrounding her with his presence until the panic finally melted just enough that she could process what he was saying.
He was right. They didn’t have all the information. They didn’t even know for sure where Jeter was.
And she couldn’t run now. If she ran, there were two women who would die. Bree was the only one who could find them.
She sucked in a shaky breath. “I know—you’re right. I panicked. I won’t run.”
His forehead dropped against hers. “Nobody blames you for a little bit of panic. But whatever we decide to do, we do it together, okay? No running.”
She nodded. “And I’ve still got to do whatever I can to help these women. I can’t leave them to die.”
“And I’m going to be with you every single minute. When I say you’re not alone, I’m not just talking about the long-term, big stuff. I’m talking about everything.”
And this was why she loved this man. Because she knew everything he said to her was the truth. She nodded again and he kissed her gently.
“Let’s get you back to the police station. That will definitely be the safest place for you.”
She grabbed her computer as he led her out to the car, Whitaker handing her the cell phone she’d left behind on the way. She winced at the multiple missed calls and texts from Tanner.
Whitaker and Tanner kept her between them, both looking out for possible threats as they stepped outside and walked quickly to the car. Tanner’s firm hand on her arm—the other one resting close to his weapon—told her exactly how much this Jeter thing was weighing on him.
The uniformed officers gave them an escort back to the police station. Once again, Bree was quickly ushered inside.
Tanner didn’t let down his guard even once they were inside the building.
He was taking the threat of Jeter seriously.
If Jeter was out and had access to a computer, he could hack into the Dallas PD system and make it look like he was employed there.
He could have a badge and access pass within minutes.
The thought had her panic inching back up. Jeter could be anywhere.
Tanner was probably afraid the man would try to kill her. Bree wasn’t. Jeter wanted her for himself. Alive.
Once they made it back to the command room Tanner relaxed a little bit. At least here all the faces were familiar. A stranger would be much more noticeable.
The clock at the front of the wall caught Bree’s attention. It was counting down the minutes until the last two women would be covered in water and drown. Less than three hours.
Bree was going to have to trust Tanner to keep her safe from Jeter. She was going to need every spare minute to figure out where these last two women were.
“I’ve got to work. We’re out of time,” she whispered to him.
He gave her a brief nod before his eyes moved back up, gauging the room. “You work. I promise I will keep you safe.”
Tanner had always done that. Even from that first moment when he’d caught her shoplifting formula and diapers, and had no idea who she was or what she needed, he’d always protected her.
He protected her when it meant putting his own life in danger and he’d protected her even when it meant he might lose everything.
There was not one bit of her that had any doubt he would protect her now.
She sat down and placed the laptop next to the desktop computer she’d been working on here. Her life was in Tanner’s hands.
The lives of two other women were in hers.
IF TANNER HAD thought the circumstances under which Bree was working before were bad, it was nothing compared to watching her trying to work with the threat of Jeter hanging over her.
The killers couldn’t have done anything more to split her focus if they had gone and broken Jeter out of prison themselves. It was one of the very few things that would slow Bree down.
But it still wasn’t slowing her down much.
She was writing code faster than most people could write their name. And she was doing it on the fly, coming up with ways to try to trap the kidnapers, backing them into a virtual corner.
She’d explained just a little bit as the first program she wrote was uploading, then had warned him he probably didn’t want to know exactly what the program was going to do.
She was right. He didn’t care if the program was illegal, not with that clock counting down the minutes those women had left.
The first thing Bree had had to do was reconfigure the live footage that was to come from the victim they’d just rescued. If it didn’t go live, the other two kidnappers would know the police were onto them.
The suspect they’d arrested—the linebacker—was proving quite a bit more interesting than Elliot Webster.
The man’s name was Rory Gresham. He was thirty-four years old and pretty much a laundry list of trouble.
When he was twenty-one he had applied to work for Dallas PD, but had been rejected when he couldn’t pass the psychological profile test. He’d gone on to attend Texas A&M, like Elliot, also studying engineering, and had held a good job at the City Planner’s office until about a year ago when he’d been fired for aggressive behavior against his colleagues.
After the tackle they’d shared in that alley, Tanner felt quite familiar with Rory’s aggressive tendencies.
Rory had spent the last year with time on his hands and revenge on his mind.
Based on the information in the chat room Bree had found, it looked like Rory was the mastermind behind most of this plan. He definitely wanted to stick it to the Dallas PD and to the Dallas city government in general.
He was in custody now, Penelope questioning him with his lawyer present. His victim, Alice Cornick, had been taken to the hospital but, like Jean Adams, didn’t seem to have any serious physical injuries.
If Tanner had to bet, he would say that Rory was probably the one responsible for the deaths of Shelby and Kelly Quinn.
The man wanted to make sure everything was perfect, that there was nothing in the late stages of the game that he would have to factor into consideration.
By all accounts, in both his college classes and at his job, he’d been considered brilliant, if not able to work with others.
According to Penelope, all he’d said so far was that the Dallas PD could go to hell. They should have hired him when they had the chance.
Bree’s shoulders were getting more and more tense as she worked. He’d hoped that the victim they got to next would be Christina, the woman from the shelter who reminded Bree so much of her friend. That would take at least a little of the pressure off her.
When his phone rang in his pocket and he saw it was Greg Lightfoot, he stepped away from Bree’s desk so he wouldn’t disturb her.
“Talk to me, Greg.”
“Tanner, I’m at Parkland Hospital myself. I can confirm that Michael Jeter is in custody.”
Tanner felt the pressure that had been sitting on his chest like a rock ease at Greg’s words.
“You have eyes on him yourself?”
“That’s an affirmative. Jeter’s face was burned pretty bad. But I personally sat there and watched the US Marshals run Jeter’s fingerprints. And then I had them do a match to a physical print, not a computer match. I’m well aware of what Jeter can do to all things computer.”
“Damn fine thinking, Greg.”
“It’s him, Tanner. And given the state he’s in, Bree does not have to worry about him coming after her anytime soon.”
“The hospital is notorious for less security. Make sure whoever is standing guard is aware that any remaining friends Jeter has might use this opportunity to try to break him out.”
“Will do. Are you and Bree working this drowning case?”
Tanner swallowed a curse. “Did news break about it?”
“Yeah. Not a lot of details, but that’s some messed-up stuff.”
“Believe me, you don’t know the half of it. Thanks for going to the hospital and checking yourself, Greg. Let me know if you learn anything else.”
Tanner discussed a few more details with Greg, then disconnected the call. He immediately walked over to Bree.
“I just got off the phone with Greg. Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
Her head tilted to the side. “Good news.”
“Greg went to the hospital himself and confirmed that Jeter was indeed there. He’s got some burns on his face, but Greg watched as they ran his fingerprints and compared them to a physical copy. No computers.”
For the first time, Bree actually stopped her typing and gave him her full attention. “It was really him? The prison bus accident was really just an accident with really crappy timing for us?”
He nodded. “I know it’s hard to believe, but in this case, yes.
I think it might have all just been a coincidence.
Of course, I’m making damn well sure everyone knows what a danger Jeter and his remaining friends are.
But right now it looks like he’s in pretty bad condition anyway.
Couldn’t be much of a risk to you even if he wanted to. ”
She nodded and let out a deep breath. “Okay. Then Jeter is officially a problem for another day.”
“Yup.” He cupped her cheek. “But whatever day Jeter decides to show up I’m going to be right next to you waiting for him.”
Her smile made him want to pull her into his arms, but they had the bad news to deal with first.
“But that was the good news. Bad news is, word is out about the drowning cases.”
Bree turned back to her computer. “Actually, that was me that leaked it. Now that we have a little information about Rory Gresham, I’m using the press to play off the last two kidnappers. I’m talking to both of them separately, pretending with each to be the other one.”
“Are you sure they’re not going to kill the victims outright and just make a run for it?”
She let out a little sigh. “That’s my biggest concern. Right now, I’m in discussion with both of them on the pros and cons of keeping the women alive.”
He whistled through his teeth. Not that he didn’t trust her, but that was a lot of pressure and if it went wrong, could mean a lot of guilt for Bree. He didn’t want that for her. “What can I do to help?”
“I’m hoping the news report of Gresham’s arrest will spark some sort of panicked action. It’s the only play I have left. We’re down to the last forty-five minutes.”
Damn it. That was so little time. “Freckles, listen.”
She held up a hand. “No, don’t give me the consolation talk now. Not while we can still save them. I’m going to damn well try everything in my power to get them out.”
She was right. He should not be treating this as if they’d already lost these women. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t have faith in you...”
“I get it, hot lips. You’re you and want to protect me. And I love you for it. But right now...” Her eyes grew big. “I’ll be damned.”
“What?” She had diverted her attention from her main computer back over to the laptop.
“It worked. One of them just panicked and made a pretty rookie mistake. I set up a side channel attack on the very slim chance that someone would panic and one of them did and just triggered it.”
“English, freckles.”
She typed for a few seconds. “I know where victim number three is.”