“It’s not necessary. Plus I really need to get home.”
Time to guilt trip.
“Please, I won’t sleep tonight. I’ll be worried.” He rubbed the scratch with his fingertips then breathed heavily. “That must be two hundred dollars right there.”
“Two hundred? You think?” she asked.
“Easily. The bump is easy to get out, but it’s the paint job where the expense comes in. Garages have to mix the colors themselves. This is a non-standard color.”
The woman regarded the vehicle. “It’s silver.”
“No, it’s called Chalice. Trust me. I used to work in a garage. This stuff takes hours to mix.”
It was the little lies that completed the illusion. He idly wondered if his penchant for murder could translate into a lucrative acting career.
“Okay. Fine. As long as it doesn’t take too long,” the woman said.
“Two minutes. I have a card with all the details.”
This was it. The moment of truth.
He went into his trunk, reached inside then waited a second. He discreetly ensured there were no other stragglers, no late-leavers, no other teachers coming to chatter.
The coast was clear.
When he felt the woman’s presence close enough to strike, he reached under the blanket. There was no card. He had no intention of passing on his insurance details.
Beside Rena’s severed leg was a knife.
A second later, it was at the teacher’s throat.