Jamie drew twenty-fourth. She would be the last driver to run on Friday. She wouldn’t be driving until four o’clock in the afternoon. When her turn finally came up, she had tough numbers to beat. Dunn had the lead with 195 mph, Clay close behind had done 192.5.
When Jamie strapped into her car, Quint’s heart started hammering. He’d learned a lot about racing in the past weeks, and he knew how tenaciously she’d have to drive to start out in front.
She finished her test lap, jammed on the gas with a growl of the engine. At 2.66 miles, it was the longest track in the NASCAR circuit. It also had the steepest banks to ensure maximum speed.
Tim and Hal stood beside Quint as all eyes followed her around the track. When her car passed in front of them, Tim said she was going 200 mph—the maximum her restrictor plate allowed.
Quint released a long draft of air from his lungs when her car slowed and came into the starting pit. He was calmer than he expected to be. Maybe he was getting used to her driving, if that was possible.
Her numbers appeared on the screen before she got out of the car. A cheer arose from below. She clocked in at 194.5; she would start in second beside Tomas Dunn.
Quint waited by the trailer while the car was taken over to the inspection line. Jamie, Tim, and Hal went with it while the rest of the crew took off. Only Buster stayed behind.
Buster walked up to Quint, looking every bit a proud father. “Great run wasn’t it? She’s something else, that girl. A lot of drivers get a little squeamish after an accident. She just dives right back in there.” Buster gave Quint a searching look. “The guys mentioned that you’re having some trouble dealing with her racing. Don’t feel like the Lone Ranger. I get butterflies in my stomach every time she’s out there. I did with T-Roy too. But it’s not as dangerous as it looks. Those cars can take a lot of punishment. You saw that last week.”
That was hardly reassuring, but Quint smiled and said, “Thanks, I’ll try to remember that, but I’m concerned with this tampering business.”
“Not to worry, Sergio is going to sleep with that car until Jamie gets in it on Sunday.”
“I’m glad to hear that, but we also need to find out who this person is.”
Buster nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. I’ve seen you around talking to some of the guys. You come up with any ideas yet?”
Quint shook his head. “Just a lot of maybes. I was hoping you could help.”
“Be glad to. What do you need from me?”
“You told me that when you saw Clay and Jimbo together, you were alone. I just don’t think you’re in the habit of hanging out in bars by yourself. I can appreciate you trying to keep Clay’s father from finding out, but if someone was with you, I need to know. I’m convinced that whoever killed Jimbo is mixed up in Jamie’s car tampering, and running her off the road. I give you my word I’ll be discreet.”
Buster stared at his shoes for a moment, massaging the back of his neck. “All right,” he said finally. “I don’t think it will help you, but you’re right, I wasn’t alone. I was meeting with Ray and Mitch Grady. Ray wants to buy another car for his son Lasco to drive so he can get some experience. Mitch Grady has been talking about retiring at the end of the season, and Ray wants Grady to get a crew together for him.”
“Was Lasco with you?” Quint asked.
“Just Grady and Bentler. We mutually agreed it would be in everybody’s best interest if we kept what we saw between us. That’s why I hesitated telling you.”
Quint didn’t mention to Buster that one of those two had likely hit on Clay. Quint was putting his money on Grady, but he found it interesting that Bentler was planning to put another car in the race. He remembered Jamie talking about that at one time. Could that possibly mean that Bentler wanted Lasco to drive his Pink Mink car? It was a thought, but with Jamie doing so well, it made no sense at all.
* * * *
Jamie didn’t have to be at the track until noon on Saturday, so she snuggled up against Quint, enjoying her time with him. The bruises on her arm and cheek were still visible but the aching was gone. She felt good about her qualifying run.
She hadn’t told anyone, especially Quint, how she really felt about getting back in her car after the accident in New Hampshire. Even being out there by herself, her hands were sweating and her heart felt like it wanted to leap from her chest. It was far more than the adrenalin rush of racing, but she knew from experience that if she didn’t get back in her car and drive aggressively she was finished. It had happened to more than one person she knew.
Voicing her fear would not only make Quint more nervous, but have an effect on her as well. As long as she didn’t talk about it, she could pretend it wasn’t there.
It seemed like since Quint had come into her life, some of the enthusiasm for racing had left her. She still wanted to win, but she had more to live for now. Racing was no longer the most important thing in her life. She also had a promising relationship with her father now.
Jamie recalled the night after Nicole’s wedding when she’d opened her door and let Quint in. At that time the only meaningful thing in her life besides racing was her interest in plants. Except for a long distance friendship with Nicole, she had no family and no friends other than those she knew from the track. She wondered what it would be like to belong to a loving family the size of the Douglas clan.
Cherishing that thought, Jamie pressed against Quint’s warmth. He was lying on his back with one arm cradling her neck. His even breathing told her he was sleeping. Very quietly, she bent over, kissed his ear and whispered, “I love you, Quinton Douglas.”
His arm tightened around her immediately. He rolled over to face her and nuzzle her sweet smelling hair. He was smiling. “I have a secret to tell you, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I fell in love with you the moment I saw you in that old Mickey Mouse T-shirt.”
“That’s crazy. You thought I was a hooker.”
“Yes, it’s crazy. I was like a man possessed that week. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t concentrate on work, and I avoided everybody, especially Virgil.”
“Why Virgil?”
“Because he knew. He finally pinned me down and laid a guilt trip on me about coming to the Douglas Labor Day party. At the party, Delta came out with the wedding video, and when I saw you in my arms, carrying you from the church, I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest. That’s also when Stephen recognized you. Just for the record though, I’d already decided, one way or another, I had to see you again.”
Quint turned her face up to look into her eyes. “That fact is, Jamie LeCorre, I love you more than life itself. You fill a void in my life that’s been there for as long as I can remember.”
Sunday morning it rained. After it cleared up, the race was delayed an hour due to the condition of the track. At one o’clock, Jamie kissed Quint goodbye, whispering something naughty in his ear. It had the right effect on him. She left him smiling and relaxed as she climbed off the trailer and strapped into her car.
Alabama was unseasonably warm for the last week in September; unfortunately the rain had left the humidity high. Jamie wore her skimpies, as Bentler called them, under her suit to help keep her body cool.
As she pulled up beside Tomas Dunn, they exchanged a thumbs-up sign. Adrenalin leaped in her veins when the pacer car veered away, and the roaring train of cars was set free.
The EA Sports 500 was underway.
Jamie loved this track. With over two and a half miles of raceway it only required 188 laps to finish and it was usually over quickly.
For twenty laps she drafted behind Dunn, with no action and few changes in positions behind her. Most fans would call it a boring start. Five laps later, Charlie warned her a yellow flag was up. Two cars, in the tenth and eleventh positions, had kissed metal, and cars were spinning on the track behind her.
Jamie weaved through the wreckage, keeping her eyes on Dunn, less than a car length in front of her. Three laps later they got the all clear. She p
icked up speed quicker than Dunn, and passed him coming out of the fourth corner. Her speedometer read 198 mph as she entered the straightaway. She ignored Buster’s swearing voice coming through the headphones, telling her she was going too fast.
She held the lead for another twenty laps until a yellow flag came up and Buster called her in for a pit stop. She was back out on the track in seventeen seconds. Dunn had pitted in fifteen seconds and regained the lead.
It took her five laps to repass Dunn. Clay also passed Dunn, and was now directly behind her.
Again Buster swore into the headphone.
Jamie swore back at him. “Dammit, if your crew hadn’t been twiddling their thumbs when I stopped, I wouldn’t have had to pass Dunn again. Next time I want a fifteen-second pit.”
She heard Buster passing that information on to his crew. Loud audible groans sounded in the background.
Lap one hundred and ten yielded a fiery crash. The red flag came up, and Jamie brought her car to a standstill directly behind Clay. She’d lost her lead to him ten laps earlier. Dunn was behind Jamie, next came Grady and Talon Davis. After what Quint had told her about Davis’ ex-wives she preferred seeing him at a distance. Three cars back was close enough. Until her last conversation with Clay, she’d had the same feeling about him.
As Quint sat on the trailer with Hal and Tim watching the wreckage being cleared he gave a prayer of thanks that Jamie was safe. In spite of the high speeds involved in this race he found himself far more relaxed than at any other race he’d been to. He’d actually leaped to his feet and cheered with the others each time Jamie took the lead. Quint was even wearing a Pink Mink cap set on his head by Tim.
When the red flag lifted, six cars were eliminated, with one driver taken away in an ambulance.
The race restarted with Jamie still in second place. Clay held tenaciously to the lead for thirty laps when the last pit stops were called for. Five lead cars all pulled in at the same time. Jamie left her pit in fifteen seconds and regained the lead position.
With twenty laps to go another crash took Talon Davis out of contention. He hit the wall on the third curve going 170 mph. He lost control, taking five other cars with him.
A recap put the ranking order as: LeCorre, Riker, Dunn, and Grady, leading the pack in that order. Twenty-eight cars remained in the race.
In lap one hundred and eighty, Grady made a dangerous but successful move to pass both Riker and Dunn. Jamie held him at bay by escalating to the maximum speed of 200 mph. Tim Andrews jumped up on his feet, waving his fists, and screaming at her not to blow the engine.
As the last laps rushed by, Grady tried doggedly to pass her. He came out beside her after every turn only to move back in behind her when she out maneuvered him.
Quint experienced a thrill he’d never forget when she passed the checkered flag to take the win. He brushed at his eyes wondering where the moisture had come from. He noticed Hal and Tim doing the same thing as they tossed each other around hugging like playful bears.
The crowd was on its feet cheering Jamie as she did her victory drive around the track, finishing it up with the traditional spin on the track and in the grass. The sports commentator was having a field day recapping the race and listing the records she’d beaten. The most significant one, of course, was being the first female to win a Nextell Cup race.
By the time she reached Victory Lane
the entire Pink Mink crew surrounded the car. She had taken her helmet off inside the car, and somebody reached in and stuck a pink hat on her head and handed her a bottle of water.
Ray Bentler was there to help pull her out. He gave her a hug so fierce she thought her bones would crush. When he finally released her, she looked for Quint through the spraying champagne. He stood on the edge of the crowd between Hal and Tim, a grin as wide as the Mississippi River on his face.
She held out her hand to him and he pushed his way through the revelers. When he reached her, he stooped down, put his arms around her lower body, and lifted her up. Somebody stuck a foaming bottle of champagne in her hand. She took a drink, and tilted it up to Quint’s lips. He barely got a sip before she lifted the bottle and spilled the rest of it over his pink-capped head. Someone else reached up to spray another bottle over her head. An onslaught of flash cameras captured the moment.
By the time she got to hug her father, tears mixed with champagne were streaming down her face.
“I’m so proud of you, baby,” he said. “So double-damn proud!”
Somebody yelled, “Show us your skimpies, Jamie!”
Before she could respond, Ray Bentler yelled, “Don’t ask her that until Tomas Dunn strips down to a Speedo after a win.” He looked her and winked.
Jamie met his admiring gaze with a mischievous grin, just before she shook a champagne bottle and sprayed it over his head.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A victory celebration was quickly planned to take place in the hotel where Jamie, Buster and most of the crew were staying. By the time Jamie and Quint passed the lounge on the way to their room, some of the guys were already there. Tim and Hal came out and waylaid them in the hall.
“Where do you think you two are going?” Tim asked.
Jamie laughed. “I’m soaked with champagne from head to foot—where do you think I’m going?”
Tim turned to Quint and grinned. “Gonna lick it off of her?”
Before Quint could answer Hal wrapped a husky arm around Quint’s neck. “Come on, son, let the little lady go pretty herself up. We need you. Buster’s trying to order hors d’oeuvres, and he needs help with the selection. We’re trying to talk him into ordering everything on the menu.”
Jamie shook her head, laughing. “Why don’t you go with them?” she said to Quint. “I’ll be down shortly.”
“You sure?” he asked.
She nodded, reaching up to give his champagne soaked hat a tug at the brim. “You look terrific in pink.”
He bent down and gave her a thorough kiss on the lips that lasted until the guys started howling. She broke away, laughing, and headed for the elevator.
Her room was on the sixth floor and she had to restrain herself from peeling her sticky suit off right there in the elevator. She opened the door to her room and headed straight for the shower. The phone rang before she made it ten feet.
It was Clay.
“Jamie, congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, Clay. Why don’t you come down to the lounge where the guys are partying?”
“I—I can’t Jamie. Not right now.” His voice faltered.
“What’s wrong, Clay?”
“Jamie, I think I know who killed Jimbo.”
Jamie’s heart did a double beat. “My God, who is it Clay? And how do you know?”
“I—I have a room on the fourth floor. Could you come down? I know you are in the middle of your celebration but…I need to talk to somebody.”
“What’s your room number?” she asked.
“415—the door’s unlocked.”
“I’ll be right there.”
On her way out, she dashed off a quick note to Quint in case he decided to break away from the party and come to the room after all. She didn’t want him to worry.
She took the stairs down the two flights and found room 415. She knocked once on the door, opened it, and went inside. Clay was slumped in a chair at the table, a half empty drink cradled in his hands. He looked ghostly pale.
“Thanks for coming, Jamie. I didn’t know who else to call.”
Jamie sat down across from him. “Tell me what happened.”
Clay tossed the rest of his drink down in one gulp, shuddering. “When Grady was beside you today trying to overtake you in those last laps, I was right behind you. My father wanted me to take you out. For eight laps he kept shouting into the headphones, pressuring me. I finally called him a sick bastard. Then he said I was the fucking sick one. He said I was a flaming faggot and a chicken shit to boot.”
&nbs
p; “He knows?” Jamie whispered.
Clay rubbed his eyes with his sleeve. “Yeah. I don’t know when or how, but when he said those words, I almost turned my car into the wall.”
Jamie sucked in her breath. “God no, Clay. Don’t let him do that to you. He’s not worth it.”
“If he’d been standing in front of the wall I would have done it without thinking twice. I can’t let him get away with it. I know he killed Jimbo.”
“Your father?”
Clay nodded. “I don’t have any proof, but I think he was also the one who ran you off the road and messed with your car. While he was yelling at me he said something like, ‘I made sure she didn’t win last week, now it’s your turn. She knows, you dumb bastard, we have to get rid of her.’”
Jamie just stared at him. She didn’t know what to say.
She wasn’t aware that someone else had entered the room until a voice broke the silence behind her.
“And now I’m going to finish the job.”
She whirled around to face a gun pointed straight at her head.
* * * *
When Quint walked into the lounge, the first thing he noticed was that Buster wasn’t wearing his pink hat. Instead, he wore a green one. When Buster turned to confer with the maitre d', Quint found himself staring at the back of the hat. On it he saw the circles, four entwined circles. It was identical to the one worn by the man who’d run Jamie off the road.
An instant, icy rage consumed Quint. He grabbed Buster, slammed him against the wall, and shoved a sturdy arm into his throat. A hushed silence pervaded the once noisy room as all eyes riveted on Quint and Buster. Hal and Tim grabbed Quint’s arms and yanked him away from their crew chief.
“What the hell’s got into you?” Buster croaked, massaging his throat.
Quint tried to break loose but Hal and Tim held him firm. “He was the one who ran Jamie off the road.” Quint shouted. “He killed Katherine!”
“You’re insane,” Hal said.
Tim gave Quint the benefit of a doubt. “Maybe you’d like to explain that,” he said, not letting up on his grip.
Secret Sacrifices Page 30
