by Janie Crouch
“You have the right to remain silent. You’re under arrest, you son of a bitch.”
The guy grunted and threw a punch at Tanner. He saw stars as the guy’s meaty fist caught him on the jaw.
Tanner returned the favor with a blow of his own, flipping the guy over while he was dazed. “You have the right to remain silent, although I personally hope you’ll sing like a canary.”
Tanner didn’t even care that he was making a mockery of the Miranda rights. Somebody was going to have to reread them to him when they arrested him for real. Tanner was basically babysitting until then. Babysitting a six-foot-two, two-hundred-pound baby struggling to get away from him, but babysitting nonetheless.
It was only a few more seconds before some members of the SWAT team burst through the door and ran up to Tanner, taking over the arrest process. Tanner was more than happy to let them do it.
Whitaker came rushing around the corner, weapon drawn. He holstered it when he saw the SWAT team had the situation well under control.
Whitaker brought his walkie-talkie closer to his mouth. “Penelope, we’ve got the suspect in custody.”
“Good,” the woman responded. “We’ve got the victim. She’s alive and still out of danger with the water. We’ve got it turned off, but evidently this guy didn’t know we were coming like Elliot did.”
Tanner brought up his own walkie-talkie. “Penelope, I’ve got to go. I have reason to think Bree might be in danger.” He looked over at Whitaker.
The man shook his head. “The officers should’ve already been in contact with her and reported back. I haven’t heard anything.”
The walkie-talkie clicked back on. “You two go. There’s nothing you can do now anyway. I think we caught this guy before he could contact the others, so we definitely need to find Bree to figure out our next move.”
Tanner and Whitaker were running for the car before she even finished the sentence. As soon as they got inside, they were both on the phone—Tanner trying Bree’s cell again and Whitaker calling the officers who should have found her already.
Tanner once again got no response and whatever Whitaker heard had him cursing.
“Well, did you talk to any of the employees and ask if they’d seen her?”
Whitaker didn’t like whatever the officer answered and Tanner could feel his heart begin to hammer.
“We’ll be there in less than five minutes. Make sure you’ve checked every possible spot in that café that she could be. Bathrooms. Storage room. Bree can sometimes want to have privacy, so check the places that might seem unusual to you.”
What Whitaker was saying was right, but why would Bree be hiding when it had been such a short time? Why would she leave the safety of the coffeehouse at all?
She wouldn’t. She’d be working.
It was all Tanner could do not to yell at Whitaker to drive faster. The man was driving as fast as he could. Instead, Tanner redialed Greg’s number.
Greg didn’t waste time when he answered. “Tanner. I’m still working on it. The last thing I heard was that Jeter was sent to Parkland Hospital. I’ve sent one of my people over there to confirm. But the word is still that none of the prisoners escaped. Is Bree okay?”
“We can’t get ahold of her and she’s not where she’s supposed to be.”
Greg let out a curse. “As soon as my guy arrives at the hospital I’ll give you a call back.”
“Thanks.” Tanner disconnected the call as they pulled up in front of the coffeehouse and he rushed inside. The uniformed officers were talking to the staff behind the counter. Tanner and Whitaker double-checked all the possible rooms where Bree could be.
She wasn’t there.
Fear emptied into him like an icy downpour.
He pulled a picture from his phone and held it up in front of the manager. “Her. Was she in here? Did she leave with anyone?”
“Yeah, I remember her,” the manager said. “She was mad because the internet hasn’t been working right today.”
The tightness in Tanner’s chest eased just slightly. Not having working internet would be one of the few reasons why Bree would have left of her own volition. He pulled out his phone and dialed hers again.
It was only because the rest of the room was so quiet that they heard the vibrating of a phone in the back corner as Tanner called. Whitaker ran back there.
“It’s her phone.”
The manager nodded. “Yeah, that’s where she was sitting.” Tanner disconnected the call and walked over to the corner. He and Whitaker both looked around.
“There’s no sign of a struggle,” Whitaker said. “And somebody would’ve seen if Jeter was here and tried to take her out.”
Tanner nodded. “And no internet here means she could’ve left on her own. It’s the one reason she would.”
They both looked up as the bell chimed on the door as someone entered.
The ball of ice around his heart eased when he saw it was Bree, laptop held in one arm, typing with the other hand, screen up to her face, completely unaware that everyone in the coffeehouse was looking at her. She literally nearly ran into Whitaker before she even looked up.
“Excuse me, I left my phone and I—” She finally realized it was them. “Oh, hey. What are you guys doing here?”
Tanner scrubbed a hand over his face. This was Bree. He’d seen her get lost more than once while working on computers. Couldn’t remember to do even the most basic of tasks like feed herself or go to sleep. He couldn’t get frustrated with her for being herself.
The most important thing was that she was safe and he was going to make sure she stayed that way.
“We caught the bad guy and got to the victim. The victim is going to be okay and we don’t think the perp was able to get word to anyone else,” Tanner said, taking the computer from her, setting it on the table and pulling her against his chest.
She was fine. Thank God, she was okay.
Bree didn’t question his actions, just snuggled against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Good. I’ve sent separate messages to the other two. As long as they are not conferring with each other separately, I think they both will eventually take the bait.”
She finally reached back and took a good look at him. “Are you sure you’re okay? I thought you said the woman was alive.” She reached up and smoothed her small thumb across his brow. “Why so worried?”
He couldn’t hide this from her. They’d come too far in their relationship, in their trust in one another, to keep something as critical as Jeter’s whereabouts from her. Tanner respected her too much for that.
But damn he didn’t want to tell her that her worst nightmare was unaccounted for.
“It’s Jeter. There was a crash of the prison bus and no one is completely sure where Jeter is.”
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 con
tinued. “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.”