I think I’d prefer you stay right there,” Kepler replied over Gimble’s earbud.
Remaining low, Gimble pointed Montgomery’s MP5 toward the tree line and slowly swept it back and forth. Rain rolled off the barrel, over the stock, and she fought the urge to wipe off her hands or readjust her grip. “Where’s your sister?” Gimble said. “That was a neat little trick she pulled back at the truck stop with all the alarms. That was her idea, right? From what Dobbs tells me, you’re not smart enough to come up with something like that.”
Gimble saw a movement out of the corner of her left eye. She spun around, leveled the gun, and pulled the trigger three times in quick succession. Pop! Pop! Pop!
The reports echoed off the trees, the log pile beside her, muffled only by the rain.
“Not even close, Agent.”
“Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
The echo of the shots faded and died, lost in the storm.
“Megan!” Gimble shouted. “If you’re out there, it’s not too late to turn yourself in and walk away from all this. Don’t let your brother drag you down with him. It’s not worth it. You’re throwing your entire life away, and for what? Unless you killed those people, unless you killed someone tonight, I can protect you. I can help you. I can keep you safe! Your brother has dug himself a very deep hole, but you don’t need to get caught in it. Pulling a couple fire alarms, that’s misdemeanors, a slap on the wrist. Aiding and abetting, on your clean record, I can make that go away. Help us bring in Michael. Your father clearly thought he was ill. Let me get him the help he needs. You obviously care for him—do the right thing!”
As Gimble spoke, she squinted back at the trees, searching. She expected him to move while she was speaking. They usually did. If the sister was still helping him, she might be circling around right now—that’s what she would do. Between the rain and gusts of wind, Gimble was damn near deaf and blind. This was no good. She needed to get back inside the cabin.
The front door was about thirty feet away.
She imagined Kepler holding one of the other MP5s, waiting for her to make that run. Thinking that’s what she would do.
She tapped her earbud. “Why are you killing them, Kepler? What did Fitzgerald do to you? Why take it out on his patients?”
The moment his voice came back over the comm, she pulled the earbud out, held it away from her head, and closed her eyes, attempting to hear Kepler’s actual voice from somewhere in the trees, pinpoint him. She heard only his tinny voice through the small speaker, though.
“You finally pieced that much together? Was it the book? Is that what clued you in? I’ve dropped so many hints for you over the years, did everything but write out a manifesto. I’m really not a manifesto kind of guy. Maybe I’m just crazy. That would be the easy way out, right? Or maybe I’m not. Maybe there are reasons. Damn good reasons. Tell you what—give me Longtin and I’ll fill you in on everything. We can chat about it while we wait for your backup to arrive.”
“I can’t give you Longtin.”
“I could have killed you already, you and the rest of your team. Longtin dies either way. Are you going to make me do that? If you’d rather go that route, we’ll need to get started. By my clock, we’ve got only about twenty-one minutes.”
Six shots.
They pelted the log pile from the left to right, sending shards of wood through the air.
Before the echo died on the last shot, Gimble had her weapon pointing in the direction the shots had come from; her finger flipped the switch to full auto, and she unloaded the magazine with an arcing sweep over the trees as she ran toward the cabin through the mud and rain.