Or, he could smother her with a chloroform rag and the rest would be history.
For the sake of discovery, she took the risk.
While the view of the pines along 99W had been scenic as she biked to Roth’s, Dr. Merino’s presence tainted the beautiful scene with something ominous. The trees towered above and promised death to anyone who veered from the road.
Much to her surprise, he was silent during the drive, though his not so inconspicuous gaze drifted to her with unsettling frequency. She pretended not to notice. All the while, her stomach quivered at the lack of distance between them. He had one hand on the steering wheel, and the other a few inches from her leg on the gear shift. Several veins protruded on the one that gripped the shifter, presenting a faint blue against his tanned skin. Her eyes began to trail up his arm but stopped short at his wrist. The gunmetal bracelet. In the center of its black plate, there was an engraving of the Rod of Asclepius.
“You seem tired,” she said.
“Completely bushed. I was at Owens-Adair all night.”
“Are you sick?”
“No, no. Moonlighting. I work in the emergency room Friday nights, anyone who’s there for psychiatric reasons. I consult with them and determine if it’s safe to release them or if they need to be held.”
“Do you enjoy that?”
“It’s night and day from the university, but yes. I do it mostly because it reminds me of residency. The adrenaline and exhaustion.”
Kenna felt confident they had a good dialogue going and it gave her the courage to inquire about his strange jewelry. “Is your bracelet some kind of swanky doctor thing or am I missing the mark?”
“More like a shackle. Should something happen to me, it contains all of the relevant information.”
Her brows knit together as she stared at the symbol. There were no other markings.
“The engravings are on the back. To keep people like you from nosing around in my personal life.”
She kept quiet the remainder of the ride and covertly studied her surroundings. The interior of the station wagon was clean, too clean, not a speck of dust in sight. The random assortment of items lurking in most people’s cars was absent. No CDs, books, sports equipment, junk mail. There was nary a dead body in the vehicle, and Kenna supposed the absence of such horror qualified as a silver lining in the potentially perilous situation.
“Which building?” Dr. Merino asked when they neared the complex.
“F.”
The engine cut off and with it his erratic heartbeat settled. Every nerve ending in Dayton’s body screamed for him to escape the small space. He had done well during the brief ride but he could only resist temptation for so long.
He tore out of the driver’s seat, racing to retrieve her bike from the trunk. Kenna wasn’t far behind, slinging the bag of groceries on her shoulder and joining him at the rear of the station wagon.
Reaching for the handlebars, she insisted, “I can get it.”
“Like you can lift this.” He emitted a single, derogatory laugh. Dayton’s fingertips brushed against the tops of her hands as she surrendered control of the bike. The warmth Kenna transferred to him in that split second was inconceivable. It was as if a fire burned within her at all times.
Liam Park was unworthy of such euphoria.
“Thanks for the lift.” Kenna’s appreciation was forced, like she had to remind herself to acknowledge his generosity.
It was something he’d noticed not long after they met, a quality they shared. Her mind was often elsewhere.
He shut the trunk in one fluid push.
“It’s no trouble.”
“Dr. Merino?” someone called from a few parking spots away. A voice he instantly recognized. The woman in question hit the automatic lock on her keys and her Kia’s headlights flashed as she approached them.
“What are you doing home so early?” Kenna asked.
“We get an hour for lunch.” Alex directed the comment at Kenna, but her eyes were locked on Dayton.
Just five feet away from him stood Alex Guerrero. His original sin of Branch Spring. Her naivety and gullibility had made her an easy point of entry for his research six years ago.