For good measure, he held the badge high, just below the hoodie’s logo.
“Nobody goes in,” the young officer said.
“Well, the patient made the call to get it fixed. The drip is keeping him from resting. I can wait here while you verify with him that he’s the one who called.”
The officer mulled that over for a couple of beats.
Dario slipped the badge into his pocket and shifted the toolbox from his right hand to his left to free his dominant hand to reach into his messenger bag.
“Give me a second,” the officer said as he unfastened his bright blue-eyed gaze from him.
The dumb young man played right into his hands and stepped into the room. Got to love small towns. People are so trusting. He’d spoken but two words before he slipped into the room behind him and shot him in the back.
The officer fell forward onto Milbourne’s bed.
Milbourne’s eyes popped open and went wide with recognition.
“Wait, please! I know where the drugs are!” Milbourne exclaimed.
Adrenaline rushed through Dario’s veins.
“Where?”
“My truck.”
“Your truck is in the sheriff’s impound.”
Hope flickered in Milbourne’s eyes as if telling him that getting the drugs out from under the watch of the local sheriff’s department was doable and would garner his life being spared.
Dario felt no guilt when he pulled the trigger, hitting Milbourne square in the forehead. Nor did he feel remorse about the officer lying on the floor. Killing them was the only way for him to save face with Marco.
Now there was only one thing left.
Find the girl and kill her.
Chapter Twenty
Cap stood beside Emma as the doctor tied off the last stitch.
“There we go. All patched up,” the doctor said as he stared at his handiwork. “It should heal just fine,” he added.
“Thank you,” Emma replied.
A technician entered the room with her laptop and set it on the small countertop.
“The X-rays don’t show any breaks,” the woman informed the doctor.
The doctor leaned toward the screen, lowered his glasses to the bridge of his nose, and peered at the screen over the top of his frames. Then he pushed his wire-framed glasses back into place and looked at Emma.
“No breaks of your arm or foot.”
Emma sighed with relief.
“The nurse will be back in just a minute to see you out,” the doctor said as he rose and exited the room.
“Not much of a talker,” Emma said.
That was a true statement. The man was all business. Came in. Did his thing and left. But that was all she needed from him, and he was quick about it. Now they could leave and get back out of the Colombian’s watchful eye.
