“Darin Carrico, age twenty-five, arrested fortrespassing, burglary and illegal sale of handguns as well as a long list of misdemeanors. He’s been in prison for four years and has another three to go.”
Tanner leaned over her shoulder to get a better look at Carrico’s mug shot. “Yeah, I still don’t recognize him.”
“Newkirk was his cell mate for six months. Anders was his roomie for five nights.”
Tanner let out an audible sigh. “That’s a pretty thin connection.”
“But it is something. And Carrico is currently incarcerated at Colorado Correctional Center. That’s less than an hour away.”
“I can’t question him in any sort of official capacity. Not while I’m on suspension.”
Bree spun around in her chair so she could face him. She’d already researched this, too. “But your badge could get us in, right? That’s all we need. If we leave right now, we can catch him today. Otherwise we’ll have to wait until this weekend. I know you can’t ask him anything official, but at least we could see if he tips his hand in any way.”
Maybe this would lead to nothing. Maybe Carrico had nothing to do with it. But if this was something that helped Tanner to feel like he was more in control of his own fate, then it was worth the drive.
It didn’t take much to convince Tanner of the plan, and a little over an hour and a half later, they’d made it to Camp George West, the nickname for the Colorado Correctional Center. They were searched, signed in and waiting for Carrico at a table in the large visiting room.
“Why don’t you let me do most of the talking,” Tanner said, giving her hand a squeeze.
She rolled her eyes. “Do you really think I’m goingto argue with you when you tell me Idon’thave to interact with someone else?”
He chuckled softly and leaned over to kiss her temple. “I guess not.”
There was no recognition whatsoever in Carrico’s face as a guard escorted him to the table. Since Colorado Correctional was a lower security level, Carrico wasn’t in any sort of shackles. He did have on an unattractive orange jumpsuit that hung off his thin frame.
“You guys Jesus people?” Carrico asked as he sat down across from them at the table, his thin lips twisted in a sneer. “Because no offense, but I’m not interested.”
“No,” Tanner said. “My name is Tanner Dempsey, and this is Bree. We wanted to see if we could ask you a few questions about Joshua Newkirk and Peter Anders.”
A dark, bitter look overtook Carrico’s face, and he muttered a vile curse. “You’re cops. Why the hell are you coming in here like you’re visitors?”
Tanner shook his head. “I’m not here in any sort of official capacity. I’m just here to talk.”
Carrico leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “But you are a cop, right, pig?”
Tanner just shrugged. “I work for the Grand County Sheriff’s Department, yes.”
“And why exactly should I help you?”
“All I want to know is whether you know Anders and Newkirk. That’s all.”
Carrico shook his head. “You obviously know that I was cell mates with both of them, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“You had any contact with them since they got out?”
“Yeah, we’re pen pals. I get a perfume-scented letter once a week from both of them.” Carrico rolled his eyes. “No, I haven’t heard from either one of thosebastards, not that I expected to. They weren’t my friends. Although, if you run into either of them, ask them who the hell’s ass they had to kiss to get their early release.”
Bree wondered if Tanner would bring up that no one would be asking them anything since they were dead. That was probably what Bree would’ve blurted out. But he kept his cool. “Why? You looking to get out early?”
“You kidding me?” Carrico scoffed. “There’s no way I think I’ll get out early. I just want to stop your cop bastard friends from sending me to Colorado State Pen.”
Tanner leaned closer to the table. “Why are you getting sent up to a level-three facility? You get into trouble here? A fight?”
“Hell, no. Look, man, I got a daughter. A little girl. I get to see her twice a week right now, but I won’t ever get to see her at a supermax security. You can’t take a kid in there. I’m just trying to do my time and get out, but somebody screwed me over.”
Bree might not be good at reading interpersonal cues, but Carrico was visibly upset about being sent to this higher-security prison.
“You’re in on nonviolent charges, right?” Tanner asked, eyes narrowing. “If you got sentenced here and you haven’t done anything to merit being sent up, then there shouldn’t be any reason why an appeal won’t go through.”
