A few seconds later, he got a response.
“Mrs. Baxter. If you really want to see him, at least give the coroner a chance to clean up the body a bit more first. I can take you down there in an hour.”
“Is he really dead, Trace?” I poured on the grief and another trail of tears fell down my cheek.
“Yes. Mrs. Baxter. He is. You should go home. I can have someone take you.”
“I should be here.” The tremble in my voice was perfect.Don’t tell me those acting lessons didn’t help Dirk Baxter.
While I wanted to see Dirk’s dead body to have confirmation that he truly was dead, Trace’s actions and his tone showed he really was dead. He couldn’t be that good of an actor. He only knew one facial expression—the stoic face of a military man taking orders. The hospital lady had also seemed filled with compassion.
I was naturally paranoid, but I felt it was finally over. I couldn’t stick around to see the body.
“I’ll leave everything in your capable hands, Trace.” I moved closer and hugged him. His hands tapped my shoulder blades, but he didn’t soften.
By the end of the week, a month at the latest, I would be a multi-millionaire.
* * *
I had dozed off. Probably not the best idea with a head wound. I was sure I had a concussion. Sleeping, though, was a challenge. With no pillow, a hard and lumpy futon, and my wrist cuffed to the bed, every time I tried to move, I woke up.
The lamp on the desk still lit the room, but I could tell it was nighttime. I couldn’t see anything at all on the other side of the glass and it was dark everywhere the light of the lamp didn’t reach.
The only good thing was my sleep wasn’t haunted with those dreams.
I had cried. Sobbed really. The thought of Dirk being dead hurt more than I thought it might. Not that I had imagined that. Our relationship was still new. Still confusing. Still so unprofessional.
He had made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time, though. I’d had my friends-with-benefits flings since my divorce, but no man had made me feel what Dirk did.
From the moment I laid eyes on him, my pussy clinched. I wanted to please him and be pleased by him. It was primal and seductive, the lust I felt dancing on that stage in front of him.
Now he was dead, and Stu and Scarlet had cuffed me to a futon that smelled like moldy sex.
I heard voices outside and detected a light from down the hallway. I laid back down and tried to look like I was asleep.
* * *
“So, he’s dead?” Stu asked Scarlett. “Did you see the body?”
“No. But I could tell by the way Trace acted, he was dead.” I replied.
“I told you I gave him enough morphine.” Wagner piped in.
Stu eyed Wagner with a furrowed brow, and the emaciated man shrank back.
“So what about the woman?” Stu hated to even mention her name. He didn’t really react to the news of Dirk’s death, but his jaw muscle flexed when he clenched his jaw at the news. I knew this was affecting him.
“I need you to hold it together, Stu. We’re almost to the end. The finish line is right in front of us.”
“Don’t worry about me. You know we have to kill her. There is no going back now.”
“I know. I will not lose any sleep over it, though. However, you do it, I don’t want to be here when it happens.”
“Me neither.” Stu looked at Wagner. “Since I ended up injecting that morphine into Dirk, you owe me one. You’re not too attached to the woman, are you?”
“No. Not really, Sarge.”
“You can do this and not fuck it up?”
