“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’tgoing 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 theworkshop 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.”
