The Carbon Murder(35)

She’d always known Wayne had a crush on her. Now and then he’d ask MC how things were going with Jake, as if hoping she’d say, “I’m through with Jake. Let’s you and me party!”

“Can we start from the beginning, Wayne? Where have you been since you left the police station last week?”

“I’ve been hiding out, you might say.”

“Why?” MC heard herself ask whaa? in the whiny sound of her own come-and-go Texas accent. She swallowed, as if to get the drawl out of her mouth.

“MC, you got to trust me. I did not kill that girl, but I don’t want to be answering to these Back East police.”

“You mean Mary Roderick, uh, Nina Martin? Wayne, they caught the guy who shot her. And now he’s dead, too. There’s nothing to hide from.”

“You don’t know the whole story, MC.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t tell you now. You’re in enough trouble as it is, but believe me, this is how it has to be. I tried to warn you last week.”

MC clicked her tongue, frustrated. That email thing again.

“I checked, Wayne. There’s nothing in my emails to—”

“You’re not safe here. We need to disappear, get a new start, MC.” Wayne grabbed her hand. Kneeling, holding her hand, he looked like he was going to propose. A pitiful sight.

Wayne kissed MC’s hand. She shrank back. From the bit of moonlight that reached to the interior of the Nissan she caught a glimpse of his eyes. A creepy gray-green color, watery, darting around the parking lot as he talked. He wore a silly Dallas Cowboys cap, embroidered with a cartoon horse in football gear.

“I’ve always loved you, MC. From the first day you brought your students into our lab. Remember that field trip sort of thing you did?”

An SUV with enormous tires and a bar of lights across its roof turned into the lot. She considered trying to get their attention, but the vehicle did a quick U-turn and drove off. It was okay, she told herself. Wayne might be a smitten cowboy, but he was also a scientist; she could reason with him.

“Wayne—”

“I know Jake is in the area,” Wayne said.

How do you know that? MC felt the panic return. She tried to remember self-defense moves. Wayne was strong, but small-built, like Jake; she ought to be able to get away from him. She blew out a breath and tuned in again to what he was saying.

“You don’t want to take Jake back, MC. He doesn’t know how to treat you. I bet he treats his horses better. You were right to leave him in the first place.”

Suddenly, the Nissan seemed too small for both of them. She felt Wayne’s foul breath on her, smelled his sweaty clothes—the tight black jeans and that very ugly brown western-style shirt reeked, even more intensely than when he’d first gotten in. MC was breathing hard, as if she had just finished a run. She tried to gain control of herself, lest she freak Wayne out by her body language, and … who knew what he’d do? The last car besides MC’s started up, probably Rick’s, since the club closed at seven. The parking lot was not visible from the street, and once Rick left, there was no chance anyone would come around. If she were quick, she might be able to jump out of her car and run screaming to Rick.

She slid over far enough to press down on the door handle. Locked. Wayne must have hit the child-proofing button while he was shoving her in the backseat.

“Not a good idea, MC.” Wayne frowned; his voice went down in pitch. He squeezed her hand harder, put his other hand on her thigh.

MC stifled a scream. “I just need some air, Wayne.” Not a lie, MC thought she would suffocate in the close quarters. Wayne’s breath reeked of garlic or onion, or both. And cigarettes, definitely. Not alcohol, at least, she thought. She was an expert at detecting that.

Wayne smiled, apparently satisfied; he reached across the seatback and opened the driver’s door a crack, still holding her down with his strong grip. She estimated the chances that she could get in a punch or a kick and then fling herself over to the front seat on the driver’s side, and out the slightly open door. Slim to none.

MC sat back, tried to look comfortable, and gathered her wits. She summoned a calm voice.

“I need to think about this, Wayne.” She forced a smile, counting on the darkness to hide its deceit. “It’s a big decision, but you’re right, I should definitely not go back to Jake.” Tell them what they want to hear, she’d learned from women-in-peril movies. She could use a Keanu Reeves or a Colin Farrell right now, to drive in on a motorcycle and save her. And where were her brothers when she needed them?

Wayne seemed to relax. Could it be this easy?