Chapter Twenty-Two
Tanner’s curse was foul. He wasn’t sure what had just happened out there, but he knew things had gone from bad to not-going-to-get-out-of-here-alive bad.
“Glen, c’mon, man. Don’t do this,” he yelled.
“You weren’t supposed to come here, Dempsey. Not yet. Damn it, I thought I had more time.”
“More time for what?” Tanner yelled. “To help your brother? Do you know who killed Peter Anders and Joshua Newkirk? That’s all we want to talk about. We want to figure out what’s going on.”
“Snitches get stitches, haven’t you heard?” Glen sneered.
“Oh my gosh, did he kill them? Is that what he’s saying?” Bree’s green eyes were big where she crouched behind the tires again.
“I hope not.” Not because Tanner wasn’t ready to close this case and prove his innocence, but because Glen had the tactical advantage right now with them trapped in the shed. If he was admitting to murder, he definitely wasn’t planning on letting them go free to tell the world about it.
“Don’t say anything else, Glen,” Tanner called out. “Let’s just wait and talk things out reasonably.”
“I killed them,” Glen yelled. “I killed Anders, Newkirk and Owen Duquette.”
The words were breathy and quick, like he was relieved to get them off his chest.
Damn it. Tanner ran a hand over his face. He had to get Bree out of this shed. He pulled out his phone. It was time to call in the cavalry.
Proving his innocence wouldn’t do him any good if they were both dead.
“Are you calling 911? How long will it take them to get here?” she whispered.
“A while. But I’m not calling them. If they come in here guns blazing, Glen is just going to open fire on this place. I’m calling Whitaker.”
She made a sour face. “That guy is an ass hat.”
Ass hat or not, Tanner trusted him to have the experience needed for this sort of situation.
Whitaker answered on the first ring. “If it isn’t the man on the top of my personal most wanted list.”
“Yeah, well, maybe we can go out for dinner and dancing sometime,” Tanner quipped. “I need you to get to this address.” He rattled it off.
“Glen Carrico’s place?”
What the hell? “Do I even want to know why you know that?”
“You’re not the only person around here who can do detective work, you know. I’m actually on my way out to talk to him right now.”
Tanner wanted to know exactly how Whitaker had figured it out, but that would have to wait until later. “Good. Because Glen just admitted to killing all three of the victims. He’s got Bree and me trapped in a shed and is firing at us.”
Whitaker let out a curse. At least he was taking this seriously. “I’m probably twenty minutes out.”
“Okay, we’ll hold him off until then. Hurry.” Tanner clicked off the phone.
He looked around. There was stuff piled up everywhere, but only one door. He moved away from the cover the piles of wood provided and eased toward the back of the shed. He wasn’t going to wait for Glen to decide he was done talking and ready to start shooting. They’d be sitting ducks.
“Do you think my brother’s really going to survive in a max security?” Glen yelled. “He can barely hack it at Camp George West. Those guys I killed gave up information on other people in order to get out of jail. They were scum. Criminals who then ratted out others in order to save themselves.”
Tanner shifted a large metal shelf. Was that a small window up near the ceiling at the back? It had been blacked out, but maybe it would still open. It was going to make a lot of noise trying to get to it.
“Try to keep him talking so he can’t hear me.”
Bree nodded, watching him with wide eyes. She moved closer to the door.
“How did you know that they snitched on others?” she called out.
“The precious psychiatrist’s files told me everything I needed to know. All three of them had to be cleared by Michalski before their sentences were reduced.”
“What did you use to hack the files? Doxing? A Trojan horse or what?”
Tanner moved the large cabinet again, wincing as it made a loud scratching noise.
Meanwhile Bree looked like she was actually interested in how Glen had hacked the files. She probably was.
“Neither,” Glen responded. “I did it the old-fashioned way. I bought the information from somebody else who hacked it. Michalski’s own wife sold me the files.”
“Why would she do that?” Bree whispered to Tanner. He had no idea, just continued to move furniture so he could get to the window.
“You want to know what the irony is?” Glen asked.
His voice was sounding weary now. “I wrote, emailed and called Dr. Michalski for weeks, trying to get him to come evaluate Darin when we first got word of the transfer. Guy wouldn’t even give me the time of day.
You know how I met his wife? Because I was going to ask her if she might be willing to put in a good word with Michalski for us.
We worked in the same building, but I didn’t know her. It was my last shot.”
While Glen continued to talk, Tanner finally muscled the furniture so that he could climb up it and reach the window.
Good news, it could be opened.
Bad news, there was no way he was going to fit through that. It was going to be tight, even for Bree.
“Ends up Mrs. Michalski hates her husband,” Glen continued.
“Evidently, he’s been known to sleep with a patient a time or two.
She couldn’t put in a good word for me with him since she’d kicked him out of the house, but she was willing to give me his files for free so I could blackmail the good doctor into doing whatever I wanted. ”
“That would explain why Michalski was in the sheriff’s office at 3:00 a.m. He probably doesn’t have a home to go to right now,” Tanner muttered as he pried open the window as wide as he could. Which still wasn’t going to be large enough for him to fit, no matter how big he got it.
But at least Bree would be getting out.
“And did it work?” Bree yelled out. “Were you able to get Michalski to help you?”
“That bastard cop is just as bad as all the rest of the bastard cops. Didn’t care about me. Didn’t care about my brother or what would happen to him.”
Glen’s voice was clearer. He was getting closer.
“Tanner...” Bree whispered.
“I hear him. He’s coming toward us. Climb up here.”
She nodded but turned back to the door first. “What about the emails? Why would you make your brother look guilty if you were trying to keep him out of the maximum-security prison?”
“I didn’t do that!” Glen scoffed. “I would never do that. It must’ve been Michalski’s way of making sure he didn’t actually have to do what I want.”
Tanner helped Bree climb up to where he was.
“I want you to go out the window.”
She shook her head. “There’s no way you’re going to fit through that thing.”
“I don’t need to fit through. All we have to do is keep Glen talking until Whitaker gets here. He should be here in another ten or fifteen minutes.”
They both knew Glen wasn’t going to wait that long.
“But...”
He kissed her quickly. “Freckles, if there’s going to be a shoot-out, it’s better for me to be here by myself. Knowing you’re undefended makes you vulnerable and splits my focus. By myself, I can keep him pinned. And—”
He stopped talking as a red electronic timer on the workshop table over Bree’s shoulder blinked on. It hadn’t been on a second ago.
And then it started counting down from two minutes.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
He let go of Bree and climbed down to take a closer look. She immediately followed. He traced the cord attached to the timer and lifted a greasy sheet that covered a large table. When he saw what it was attached to, his heart stopped.
The timer didn’t.
“Oh my God,” Bree whispered beside him. “Those are explosives.”
Glen began yelling from outside again, much closer. “You shouldn’t have come here, Dempsey. You weren’t supposed to be here.”
Tanner didn’t waste any time. He grabbed Bree’s arm and propelled her back up toward the window. “You have to get out, right now.”
“But—”
“Situation is still the same. If I have to face Glen guns blazing, doing it by myself gives me a better chance.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered.
“I know, freckles. But do it anyway.”
She nodded.
Relief flooded his entire body. They didn’t have time to fight this out. Knowing she was safe would allow him to focus. He kissed her hard once more then hoisted her up and through the impossibly small window.
“Get out of the blast range and stay hidden until Whitaker gets here,” he told her as she wiggled her hips through. Once she made it, he winced as she fell forward. It was a long way to fall and no good way to catch herself.
But at least she’d be alive.
He couldn’t see out the window to make sure she was all right, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway—he was running out of time.
Only forty-five seconds left on the countdown.
If he had more time, he might have tried to call in support and see if there was any way he could disarm it, but there was no way that could happen now.
“Why are you doing this, Glen?” he called out. “It doesn’t need to be this way.”
He didn’t actually expect Carrico to answer, but he did. “This wasn’t what I wanted. Any of it. I just hope it’s worth it in the end.”
Tanner was done with the cryptic statements from this guy. He wasn’t waiting any longer. Bree was safe.
He shot at the front window once to try to get Glen’s attention focused in that direction, and then he stormed the door.