“Did you see anything that might have caused me to swerve?”
Quint took a deep breath, still trying to calm his nerves. “No. It looked like you just lost control.”
Jamie gave him a tentative smile. “I know you don’t know a lot about racing, so thanks for not giving me any patronizing bullcrap.”
“One of the guys they interviewed thought you were too close to Dunn and picked up a side wind or something.”
Jamie made a sound of disgust. “That was probably Davis. He bad-mouths me after every race whether I’m involved in a crash or not. I’d say he’s getting a little crotchety in his old age, but according to the other guys he’s always been that way. I’m just his prime scapegoat.”
After rewinding the tape, she pushed play and leaned forward to watch the crash scene. When the scene finished she hit the rewind again and went to the part just before her car went into a slide, and watched it again. She did it four times before she came shrieking to her feet.
“There, I saw something.” She replayed it again, putting her finger on the screen where a dark spot appeared for a nanosecond.
Quint leaned forward, squinting at the screen. “What was it?”
“A part—either from Dunn’s car or debris left on the track earlier and kicked up by forced air.” It took her several tries before she got the screen on pause in time to catch it. It was scarcely more than a tiny blur.
“Darn,” she swore. “I wish I could see a close-up of that.”
“Stephen could bring it to the full size of the screen,” Quint said. “He has some high-tech equipment he uses to watch skydiving maneuvers.”
Jamie turned to Quint. “Halleluiah. Do you think I could get him to bring it along this weekend?”
“You’re planning to see Stephen this weekend?”
Jamie grinned. “Stephen and Virgil are flying down in Stephen’s plane for the race on Sunday. I told them I’d have tickets waiting. They can keep you company.”
Quint gave Jamie an incredulous stare. “I had to grovel on my knees and Virgil gets tickets. You were only on the phone for a few minutes. How did he manage to charm you in that amount of time?”
“First of all,” Jamie said, “he pointed out the fact that I was dressed more like a hooker than a NASCAR driver. I hadn’t packed a lot of clothes so I put that outfit on to change my tire so I wouldn’t get anything else dirty. And second, I did pose for the centerfold, plus I had the decals in my trunk. All in all, it was a reasonable assumption.”
“That’s all it took. I tried to explain those same things. So why did you let Virgil off the hook so easily?”
“Virgil didn’t have to dig his way out from under a hundred dollar bill.”
Quint sucked in a breath of air through his teeth. “Ouch. I hate it when you’re so logical.”
Clasping her hands in her lap and drawing her shoulders forward, Jamie grinned up at him.
Quint’s gaze settled on her mouth. “Have I mentioned that you have the most kissable mouth I’ve ever seen, or tasted?” He cupped a hand under her chin, leaned down and touched her lips with a kiss that barely made contact.
Her response was instant. She pressed against him, slipping an arm around his neck. A hungry groan rumbled from deep in Quint’s chest as he took her into his arms. His hand moved up and down her slim back, pulling her closer as his mouth took possession of the lips that had been haunting his dreams since the first time he’d seen them. Her quick tongue darted teasingly in and out of his mouth, touching him in a sensual mating dance. Along with it came soft purring sounds from the back of her throat.
Quint answered her with a hunger exceeding anything he had ever known. He wanted her, every inch of her, naked in his arms. One corner of his mind was telling him to lighten up; he was moving too fast. He might scare her off again. It was a small corner, easily ignored.
Quint was one step away from carrying her to the big sofa—it was closer than the bed upstairs—when a sound interrupted the direction of his thoughts.
“The doorbell is ringing,” Jamie whispered against his probing mouth.
Quint groaned. “Do we have to answer it?”
“It might be something important.”
Quint released her. “I can’t imagine it being more important than this.”
The musical chime rang again.
Quint looked down at her. “You look like you’ve just been kissed, long and hard. Anyone at that door will know what we’ve been up to.”
Jamie lifted a hand to her swollen lips. “Can you answer the door while I run upstairs?”
“Go ahead. I’ll be okay as long as they don’t look lower than my belt.”
As the doorbell rang a third time, Jamie hurried toward the stairs. “Are all men so easily aroused, or is it just you?”
“No honey, it’s not me, it’s you,” Quint grumbled as he headed for the door. He combed a hand through his hair, as though that would hide the fact that he had an uncomfortable ache in his crotch.
Two men stood on the front stoop. Both wore dark gray suits. The taller and younger of the two had his arm outstretched toward the doorbell. His unsmiling face had a chiseled-in-smooth-metal look. He straightened up, adjusting his flawlessly knotted tie. The older man was at least a head shorter. His shirt strained to cover a protruding belly, and his face softened into a smile as he extended a hand, introducing himself.
“Good afternoon. I’m Detective Ralph Sampson. This is my partner, Harry Prince.” He waved a careless thumb toward his immaculate companion who displayed a shiny badge nestled in a leather case.
“We’re from the Glenview Police Department, Homicide Division,” Harry Prince said in a no-nonsense tone.
Quint reached past the official-looking badge and shook Sampson’s hand. “I’m Quint Douglas,” he offered.
“Is Jamie LeCorre here?” Prince asked, glancing over Quint’s shoulder.
Quint ignored him and directed his question to the older man. “What is this about?”
Prince answered. “We’re investigating James Bodean’s murder.”
Detective Sampson gave his partner a look of exasperation. “Just some routine questions,” he replied.
Quint was about to tell them she wouldn’t be answering any questions without a lawyer present when Jamie appeared at his side.
Her eyes lit up as she extended a hand to Detective Sampson. “Ralph, how are you?”
Sampson took her hand, his grin displaying tobacco-stained teeth. “Just fine, Jamie. Sorry to bother you. I know you were an acquaintance of both Clay and Jimbo so I was hoping you could help us out. We have a lot of loose ends rattling around. If we ask anything you’re uncomfortable answering you can ask to have a lawyer present, but I don’t expect you’ll need to.” He glanced at Quint. “Or is Mr. Douglas your legal counsel?”
Jamie laughed. “No, he’s…a friend. His cousin is my attorney. Come on in.” As she led the way to the kitchen, she spoke quietly to Quint. “Did I mention Virgil was representing me free of charge?”
“No, you missed that condition of his absolution?” Quint whispered.
Jamie motioned Detective Sampson to a seat at the counter while she put water in the coffee pot. “How are your boys? Still playing soccer?”
Sampson accepted the stool while Harry Prince remained standing. Prince took a notepad and pen from his vest pocket and started to ask a question when Sampson interrupted.
“They graduated this spring. That’s the problem with twins, everything happens at once. I’m having a heck of a time talking them into college. Ever since you gave them a ride in your race car they think the world revolves around NASCAR.”
Detective Prince cleared his throat. “Ms. LeCorre, could you tell us where you were last night between six and nine.”
“She was with me,” Quint answered for her. “All evening.”
Jamie flipped the switch on the coffee pot. “That’s right. In fact, we were at Jimbo’s Crab Shack for dinner. Jimbo called whil
e we were there and had a bottle of wine sent to our table. You can confirm that with our waiter, Andy Paltier.”
“We already talked to Andy,” Prince said.
Quint gave Prince a hard look. “Then why did you ask?”
“He said you left the restaurant by seven fifteen. Where did you go after that?”
Jamie turned to Ralph Sampson. “Am I a suspect?” she asked.
Sampson glared at his partner. “Of course not. We just have to go through the steps. If you’d rather wait until your lawyer is present—”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said. “After the Crab Shack we went to Quint’s motel room. He owns an investigating business and he did some research on his laptop.”
Quint cut in. “As I said before, we were together the whole evening. If you check with the Skokie Police Department they’ll verify that someone tried to run Jamie off the road on the way to her house later. Or did you already know that too?” he asked Prince.
Prince glanced sharply at his partner. “Ah…no… We didn’t know that. I’ll check it out.”
“What time was Jimbo killed?” Jamie asked.
Sampson answered. “Somewhere between seven-thirty and eight-thirty, near as we can tell at this point. We might be able to pin it down closer in a couple of days. The police answered an alarm at eight thirty-five. He was dead when they arrived.”
Jamie locked eyes with Quint for a split second. It was about eight-thirty when they got to Clay’s house. The noise Quint had heard was very likely the killer leaving. She took a deep breath and busied herself setting out mugs and pouring coffee. Her hands shook as she poured.
Sampson read her anxiety as grief. “I’m sorry, Jamie. I know he was a close friend of yours. Can you think of anyone who might have wanted him dead?”
Jamie set a cup of black coffee in front of him. She shook her head. “No, everybody loved Jimbo. As far as I know he didn’t have an enemy in the world. Was it possibly…an accident?”
“I doubt it,” Sampson replied. “It doesn’t look like a routine burglary, though, either. The house is a wreck but so far Clay Riker couldn’t find anything missing. There is the possibility that someone mistook him for Riker. Do you know of anyone who might have wanted Riker out of the way?”
Jamie gave a short laugh. “I can think of a dozen people, including myself, but it’s professional, not personal. You don’t kill someone for being an ass on the speedway. NASCAR would run out of drivers.”
Chuckling, Sampson wrapped his hands around the steaming coffee cup. “You definitely have a point there, Jamie.”
Prince ignored the coffee she set in front of him. “What time did you have the altercation on the highway?” he asked.
“Around midnight.”
“So, what did you do in the motel room between eight and midnight?”
“Don’t answer that, Jamie,” Quint snapped. “It’s none of their business.”
Sampson grinned at Quint and stood up. “He’s right, Harry. It’s none of our business. Besides, we don’t need to know. It’s enough that you were together. That means you’re both accounted for. Let’s go. Thanks for the coffee, Jamie. Please call me if you think of anything that might help.”
Jamie waited until the door closed behind them. “What if Clay discovers the tape is missing?”
Quint put his arms around her. “There must have been five hundred tapes scattered around that room. Do you seriously think he’ll go through every tape in his collection to find out if one is missing? Even if he does, you replaced it. He’d have to play it. Even then he’d just know it was blank. How could he possibly pin that on you…unless you use the information on it? And we’ve already discussed that. You can’t use that tape until Jimbo’s killer is caught and convicted.”
“What about Gomez?”
“Gomez already spent time in prison for petty burglary. He’s not about to admit being anywhere near Clay’s place.”
Jamie nodded. “I guess you’re right. Besides, we didn’t kill Jimbo. I am starting to wonder if the person who tried to run me off the road saw me at Clay’s and was afraid I could identify him.”
“That makes sense because I’m certain he knew where you live and was waiting for you. Your car is easy to spot. When you passed the entrance ramp he sped right past me and zeroed in on you like a hawk. I’d guess by now he knows you didn’t see him or you would already have pointed the finger at him.”
“I guess,” Jamie murmured, not too convincingly.
Quint smiled down at her. “I have a built-in alarm that tells me when it’s time to eat. Right now it’s screaming, so how about we go out and grab a bite?”
“I’d rather fix something here. I’m not in the mood to go out and face people. Is spaghetti okay?”
Quint bent down and kissed the tip of her nose. “Terrific. I’ll make a couple of calls, and then I’ll help you. I need to call Stephen to see if he can bring his equipment with him, and I have to call my office; with Hunter gone, things are falling apart. If I want a business to go back to I’d better tend to it. Marla probably left the office by now, but I can call her at home.”
Chapter Thirteen
Quint stared out of the tiny scuffed window of a DC-10 at the diminishing city of Chicago. He tried to concentrate on the urgent projects waiting for him back in New York, but finally gave it up. Nothing could dislodge the memory of Jamie kissing him at the door when he left. He would see her in a couple of days in Richmond, but right now that seemed light years away. She was under his skin, in his blood. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t stop wanting her. Maybe it was best they were having this short separation. It was inevitable. Had he stayed any longer, they would have ended up in bed together. While that was no problem for him, he knew she was battling with her conscience, probably trying to make up for a one-night stand that was as remote from her character as the earth from the moon.
Marla had been in a panic when he’d called her. She was on the verge of calling Hunter back from his honeymoon. As much as Quint wanted to stay with Jamie, he couldn’t let that happen.
He had been concerned about leaving Jamie alone after that freeway incident. Whether it was meant to scare her or kill her, it was a threat to be taken seriously. Even though she assured him she had a state-of-the-art security system in her home, as well as the complex guard on duty, he still worried about her.
She also said she had an enormous amount of work of her own to do. Apparently, before every race, drivers studied the upcoming track and outlined a strategy. They had to know the degree of every turn, the length of the straight-aways, the location of the pits, and a dozen other things he couldn’t remember. Racing was certainly more than getting in your car and driving. It reminded him of when he had played college football and had to study plays before the games. He suspected that even with everything she’d told him, his knowledge of racing was still at a kindergarten level.
He wasn’t sure how he would handle watching her live on the track. As much as he wanted to be with her, he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her risk her life in 3,400 pounds of metal speeding around a three-quarter mile track. He knew she meant to reassure him when she’d said they rarely went faster than a hundred and twenty at Richmond—the turns came up too quickly.
Just thinking about it made his stomach queasy.
* * * *
It was after two in the morning, and Jamie couldn’t sleep. Quint would have landed safely in New York by now, and was probably on his way home. She didn’t want to admit to herself how much she missed him, but if she was going to be honest about it, she missed him before his taillights disappeared in the darkness at the end of her driveway. She had to get him off her mind; she had a race coming up. There was a lot of preparation to do. She had to go back to the shop at least once, and by Friday afternoon she’d be in Richmond.
Her plane was three hours late getting into Richmond. The crew was already there and waiting for her by the time Jamie arrived at the int
ernational speedway. She drove a few practice laps to test how the car handled on the track. Unfortunately, it needed minor steering and carburetor adjustments that took a couple of hours to fix.
By the time Jamie got to her hotel suite she was beat and ready for a long soak in the tub. Kicking off her shoes, she headed straight for the big corner Jacuzzi in the bathroom and started the water running. She went back to the main sitting area, grabbed a soda from the mini bar and collapsed into a chair to wait for the tub to fill.
A sharp knock on the door caused her heart to do an instant flip-flop. Maybe it was Quint? He knew where she was staying. Due to his neglected workload, he’d been vague about the exact time he would arrive in Richmond. She got up and hurried to answer the door.
She stared, momentarily speechless, at her surprise visitor.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Jamie, but I needed to talk to you privately.”
“Ralph. What are you doing in Richmond?”
Detective Sampson shrugged. “Investigating Bodean’s death. He was at the Labor Day race last weekend, and since he watched it from Riker’s pit I need to interview the crew members along with some other people who saw him. The best way to talk to everyone was to fly down here.”
Jamie gripped the doorknob. “You have more questions for me?”
Sampson averted her eyes, fidgeting with the hat in his hands. “Yeah, plus I have some information. I’m not sure if it’s connected to Bodean. I was hoping you could help.”
“I don’t understand.”
Simpson glanced down the corridor. “I’d rather not talk about this standing out in the hall. Can I come in? Leave the door open if you like.”
A leaden weight settled in her chest as she stepped back, gesturing the detective inside. As he’d suggested, she left the door ajar. “Would you like something to drink?” she offered.
“No, no thanks. I hear water running,” he said.
“That’s my bath. It’s a big Jacuzzi tub. Besides, how long can this take?”
Sampson cleared his throat. He looked around the room. “Are you alone?”
Secret Sacrifices Page 15
