Glen Carrico’s house was far away from damn near everything. The longer they drove down his isolated drive, the more uncomfortable Tanner became.
“What do we know about this guy again?”
Bree had held her computer in her lap since they’d pulled away from the prison almost an hour ago.
“Glen Carrico. Older brother of Darin. Thirty-two years old, never married. No known significant other. Has lived at this address pretty much all of his adult life.”
“And he and his brother are close?”
Bree side-eyed him. “Juvenile records are a bit trickier to...access, but from what I’ve seen, yeah, they are definitely close. Looks like Glen took on responsibility for raising Darin when their mom took off. Glen was eighteen years old at the time. Darin was eleven. Glen pretty much gave up a lot of his future to take care of his brother.”
Tanner grimaced. “Glen got any sort of record himself?”
Bree shook her head. “Nothing. Honestly, it looks like he was a good kid. Got accepted to Colorado State with a full scholarship, but declined. Did his best trying to raise his troubled brother.”
“He couldn’t have been very happy that Darin ended up in jail.”
“Definitely not, and even more upset when they gave notice two months ago that they’re transferring him to max security. He’s written memos to just about every person with a pulse in the Colorado law enforcement system, trying to get Darin’s situation changed.”
Tanner grimaced. “I’ll be honest—I don’t really understand what Glen has to do with any of this. He doesn’t have any ties with the victims and has never been in trouble with the law.”
She nodded. “And Glen is dying of cancer. Only has a couple months left to live, according to Darin.”
Tanner muttered a curse under his breath. People with nothing left to lose sometimes couldn’t be trusted. Added an extra layer of risk he and Bree definitely didn’t need.
A small, run-down house finally came into view. Tanner parked in front of it, then reached over and got his Glock from the glove compartment. It didn’t look like anyone was home, but Tanner wasn’t taking any chances.
“Any possibility I can talk you into staying in the car?” he asked her.
Her sour look answered him before she even got the words out. “Any chance hell is freezing over in the next thirty seconds?”
He chuckled. “Fine, but be careful.”
“Yes, sir, Captain Sexy Lips.” She gave him a little salute.
Keeping her close to his side as they approached the front door, Tanner untucked his shirt and placed his weapon in the front waistband of his pants. He didn’t like approaching the door without his weapon in hand,but he didn’t want Glen mistaking his gun as an act of aggression and responding in kind.
“Glen Carrico, this is Tanner Dempsey. I’m not here in any official capacity. I’d just like to ask you a few questions.” Tanner said the words as they approached the broken steps leading up to the door. He listened for a second, but there was no answer.
“Maybe we can talk about Darin and if there’s some way I can help him,” he called out again.
Still no answer, and as they got closer to the door, Tanner realized it was open just the slightest bit.
He brought his arm out and scooped Bree behind him, pulling his Glock out and pointing it at the ground by his leg.
“Glen?” he called out again.
He dropped his volume. “I really think you ought to consider waiting in the car.” He had a very bad feeling about this.
Bree’s hands squeezed his waist. “Do you think he’s dead?”
“I think it’s mighty quiet, and his door is cracked open in the middle of the day. That’s not a good sign.”
“I’ll be okay. I don’t want to leave you.”
He nodded—he didn’t really want her out of his sight, either—and continued forward, weapon raised. He wasn’t acting in any sort of law enforcement capacity, but years on the force still had him identifying himself once more at the door. “Glen, I’m coming inside. Your door is open, and I’m worried something is wrong.”
Tanner swept Bree over to the side against the house, then nudged the door open with his foot. He gave her a pointed look and mouthed the wordsstay here.
