“I’m not a killer, Sarge.”
“I’ll double what I’m paying you now.” I needed him to do this.
“Two-hundred-thousand? That’s a lot of money.”
“Will you do it, Wagner?” I asked.
“Yeah. Consider it done. I’ll go do it now while you’re still…”
“No,” I interrupted. “Stu and I need an alibi. Give us two hours to get somewhere public. Then take care of her. Are you clear?”
“Yeah. Wait two hours. Kill the pretty woman.”
I realized we had been talking outside the office where Doc was chained to the bed. I guess it didn’t matter at this point. In a couple of hours, she’d be dead. Stu would know how to make the body disappear.
Stu handed Wagner the keys to the cuffs. “When it’s done. Put her in one of the barrels in the warehouse. I’ll return with a van in about six hours to take care of the rest.”
“Sounds good, Sarge.”
“Don’t fuck this up, Wagner.”
Wagner nodded, but looked down. He was such a pathetic loser. A junkie.
Stu would have to make Wagner disappear, too. I wasn’t resting until I tied up all the loose ends nice and neat. The junkie had to be eliminated when he had finished his part.
Stu and I headed toward the exit. I would give him his next orders after a good fuck.
Chapter34
Death is Coming
Somebody namedWagner was going to kill me. My heart pounded in my chest, which caused my head to throb in pain. Nothing happened, though, for a while. I heard someone outside the office, Wagner probably, but he didn’t come in.
When he did come in, he had orders to kill me. I had to escape, and I only had maybe an hour to do it. I reached for my phone to see what time it was, but of course I hadn’t seen my phone in days.
Okay, Reggie. You have like the equivalent of one appointment to figure this out. Normally, I had a terrible sense of time. However, when working with a client, I usually had a unique ability to know the appointment was over about a minute before my alarm on my phone went off.
I tried to sink into appointment mode so I could know how much time had passed.
I examined the handcuffs again. One end secured my wrist. The other end circled the large round frame of the futon I had spent the who knows how long on. I jerked and pulled, but all that did was to worsen the raw, red marks on my wrists.
I moved the cuffs forward and back along the pole frame, but it would not slide off. I stood up and lifted the mattress.
A thick bolt attached the frame to the legs and arms. One very thick bolt. I tried turning the bolt but soon realized that without a screwdriver, that might be impossible. It was loose, but I couldn’t turn it with my fingers. If I could remove that bolt, then the handcuffs would slide right off the bottom of the steel frame.
I scanned the room for tools. The desk, a small trash can, an old office chair, and the lamp on the desk. Maybe there would be something in the drawers.
I stood up and started dragging the futon across the floor. It moved easily, but it also sounded like a flock of banshees screeching as I dragged it. I stopped and listened.
If my killer, Wagner, heard that, surely he would come in. After ten breaths, I heard nothing other than my pounding heart.
I dragged the futon close enough to the desk that I could open drawers. I opened each one, looking for a screwdriver or any tool that might help me unscrew this bolt. Maybe a wrench would help with the nut on the end of the screw.
Old papers, ten dried-up pens, and some paper clips were all I could find. Except for a letter opener. It had a point on it which might fit into the crosshead of the screw.
I tried it, and with great effort I got the screw to turn. After what seemed like an hour, though, I had made little progress. The bolt didn’t seem to extend from the tube at all.
“Fuck.”
