“Me too.” I said.
Roberts looked from Wagner to me, then back to Wagner. “You look like shit, Wagner.”
“Yeah, that shook me up seeing the LT that way.”
“Roberts. Stay here. When Trace gets back, fill him in. Tell him I had another issue to take care of.”
“Sure will, Boss.”
“Oh, and text me on Baxter’s condition. I want to be kept up-to-date.”
“Roger that.”
Wagner looked like he was about to lose it. I grabbed his arm and escorted him down the hallway. We entered an elevator to take us down to the lobby.
“What the fuck, Wagner. You said it would take a while before the drugs showed any effect.”
“I know, but morphine’s a tricky drug. Results vary by individual. Luckily, he was already on some.”
“Why is that important?”
“The hospital will at first suspect that they made a mistake. No one can connect us to the morphine.”
“The fuck, Wagner. We were in the room when he started shaking like an epileptic.”
Wagner was even more sweaty and clammy than before. His arms and legs were shaking. Probably the adrenaline rush after killing someone. Someone he once knew and respected.
Although, he didn’t kill the LT. I did.
I had little sympathy for Wagner. Drug addicts were soft. Wagner was super soft. I may have made a mistake pulling him into all of this. If Scarlet thought he was a loose end, which she probably would, I might have some more dirty work to do for her.
Yeah, Wagner. She is worth it.
Chapter33
Confirmation
I arrivedat the hospital in the evening. I had already delayed too long coming to check on my injured husband. Dealing with the incompetence of Stu and Wagner was more than I could take. What does a girl have to do to get her husband killed properly?
Stu had texted me a few hours after dropping me off at the house. He assured me that Dirk had been taken care of. I took my time getting prepared.
They had bungled so much already. I wanted to make sure. Besides, as his loving, beautiful wife, I had to spend a night by his bedside. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to spend the night in the hospital.
It would mean sending Trace home, which would be a challenge. He wouldn’t begrudge a wife her private time with her sick husband, though. I knew that much about him.
When I arrived at his room, dressed in a black velvet dress, black heels, and a black hat, only Trace and a woman were in the room. They were conversing, and he was signing some documents.
The woman wore a black skirt and a white blouse. She peered at papers through red cat-eye framed glasses. Her dark brunette hair was tied up in a bun and her face looked all scrunched up. She directed Trace to sign another document.
The bed was empty, however. There was no sign of Dirk in the room and his bed had been stripped of all the bed coverings.
“Where’s Dirk?”
I tried to sound shocked. My heart pounded against my rib cage.
“Was he discharged from the hospital?” I acted hopeful.
When Trace turned to me, it was all I could do to keep the smile from spreading across my face. His face was crestfallen. Sad.
