She straightened at the thought, wondering where it had come from, but then the pastor began the service and Callie forced herself to listen. Her eyes kept coming to rest on William though. On what it would be like for him to grow up without a father. She’d had her parents for the first twenty-five years. They’d had her late—too late by some people’s standards, and yet she’d been happy with them. This poor child, however, this little boy, he wouldn’t be so lucky—and she couldn’t get it out of her head that she was somehow to blame.
It was almost a shock to realize the service was over. She watched as little William clung to his mother’s leg as the casket was lowered into the ground. Maria squatted down, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
Callie’s heart broke.
She had to turn away, almost left right then and there, but she hadn’t said a word to Maria and she knew she should. She owned her that much.
So she waited. It took awhile for people to clear. Derrick had wandered off as well—without even so much as a goodbye. That was as it should be, Callie thought, but it still hurt.
“Mrs. Cavanaugh,” Callie called out as the last of the stragglers started to fade away.
“Ms. Monroe,” the woman said. She had blonde hair and brown eyes, eyes swimming with unshed tears.
“I just wanted to say how sorry we all are.”
The woman nodded.
“Bill was a nice guy.”
“The best,” she admitted with a weak smile down at her son. Callie followed her gaze. The little boy was still clutching his stuffed animal.
“What’s his name?” Callie asked as she squatted down in front of the child.
“Smoke,” the little boy answered.
“As in Smokey the Bear?”
“No.” He smirked. “Like the race car driver.”
Callie almost laughed. There was, indeed, a stock car driver with the nickname.
“My daddy says he was one of the best drivers out there.”
“He is,” Callie said, the mention of Bill’s words a stab to Callie’s heart. She straightened suddenly. “Your daddy was a smart man.” She couldn’t look Maria in the eyes as she prepared to turn away.
“Callie,” the woman called before she could take a step.
She didn’t want to, but Callie forced herself to look into her eyes. Surely she spotted the tears that were there, Callie half surprised there weren’t answering tears in the woman’s own eyes.
“I don’t blame you,” Maria said quickly.
She didn’t?
“I don’t know who did this to—” and there it was, a sudden gleam of moisture around the woman’s dusky lashes, “—Bill.” She shook her head. “And I don’t know why they did this, but I know it’s not your fault.”
“Thank you,” Callie said.
“No. Thank you,” the woman said. “Bill was happy. Excited about this new opportunity. The sport of racing needs the X-TREME Racing League. And you’re good at what you do.” She clasped Callie’s arm. “Bill told me just how good.”
“Maria—”
“No,” the woman said. “It’s okay.” She glanced down at her son. “We’ll be okay,” she added. “As long as we have each other.”
Callie nodded, then watched as she walked away.
As long as we have each other…
She had no idea why the words pierced her so deeply, except maybe she did.
She didn’t have anybody.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The show must go on.
The words were a chant in Callie’s mind over the succeeding weeks. Christmas came and went. She spent it by herself. Derrick never called, not that she’d expected him to. She’d made it clear at Bill’s funeral she wanted to be left alone. Apparently, he’d received the message.
Race day approached. They’d lost half their drivers. Crazily enough, for every driver they’d lost, a new one had signed on. It was unbelievable. Strange, and a little scary because the police were no closer to solving the murder than they’d been on the day it’d happened.
And they’d sold out.
Granted, they were racing at a small circle track in the southern United States, but Callie had still been amazed by the news. She had little time to think about it, however. Today she wore her Technical Inspector hat, meaning it was suddenly her job to examine the cars the various race teams had designed. She didn’t mind, though. She was curious what the race teams had come up with.
Unlike other racing organizations,, the only thing she had to check for was that the engines were the correct size, the body styles were correct, and that all the safety features were in place—roll cage, crush zone, seatbelts—that sort of thing. They’d also scheduled things differently than other leagues. Instead of a three-day format, they would test and qualify on Saturday and race on Sunday, which meant a busy weekend.
And hopefully no exploding cars.
Still, she was apprehensive. They’d been asked to provide security, something that had seemed prudent, but would it help? Would someone find a way to sneak into their locked garages and plant more explosives? It seemed unimaginable, yet they couldn’t take a chance. So they cooperated with the police, all the while hoping for the best, but she knew the weekend would be stressful beyond imagining.
She would see Derrick again.
Or maybe not. He might change his mind at the last minute. She prayed he would. While she’d convinced herself she was over him, and that she’d done the right thing, not a day went by when she didn’t think about him. Didn’t think about Maria and her son. Didn’t think about Bill’s car erupting into a ball of flame.
“Callie!” exclaimed a woman Callie couldn’t quite place. “Maybe you can tell me where Mike Miller is.”
“Diane,” she suddenly recalled. Derrick’s PR manager. The woman who’d taken her to Derrick’s motorcoach all those weeks ago. “Is Derrick here?”
It was the world’s stupidest question.
“Yeah.” The woman smiled as if sensing her thoughts. “He’s in the hauler. Have you seen his new hauler yet? You should. The thing’s stunning.”
Here. Only a few hundred yards away.
“Ah, no. I haven’t. And, um, Mike’s around here some place. Let me get him on the radio.”
“Here” was inside one of two garages. Actually, they weren’t much more than long shed rows that faced each other. The Virginia race track wasn’t a top-of-the-line facility, but it would do for their purposes. Since it was only a one-mile track it left very little room for people in the infield. That suited their purposes just fine. The tighter the quarters, the easier it would be to keep an eye on the place. So far half of the teams scheduled to participate had arrived. There were tool boxes and cars and team members milling about. Mixed in were the private security guards they’d hired.
“Mike?” Callie asked after pressing the call button. “Are you near the infield?”
It took only a moment for Mike to respond. “I’m actually in a meeting with Veronica right now.”
Well, that answered one question Callie had been curious about. Her boss had deserted her almost the moment they’d landed, not that Callie was complaining.
“Mr. Derringer’s PR rep has some questions,” Callie said.
“Tell her I’ll be back in that direction in an hour.”
“An hour, hmm?” Diane said, pulling out her cell phone and tapping a key. “Okay. Yeah, I guess that’ll work. In the meantime why don’t you follow me back to the hauler and say hello to Derrick. I’m sure he’d love to see you.”
“Oh…ahh. Well, I have a lot to do.”
Around them people continued to set up for their practice session later that afternoon. Wrenches clinked and clanked. Cars were rolled into the shop. People spoke to one another. In the distance the motorcoach Veronica had insisted on buying—their headquarters for the XRL—gleamed beneath the afternoon sun. Two of the men they’d hired to be officials stood outside, chatting.
Diane said nothing. Not a
t first.
“Chicken,” she finally pronounced.
“Excuse me?”
She crossed her arms in front of her, swung a hip off to the side as her eyes raked her up and down. “I’ll be honest, Callie,” Diane said. “I was really looking forward to seeing you.”
“Why’s that?” Callie asked.
“So I could tell you to get your head out of your ass.”
“Diane—”
“No.” She held up a hand. “Don’t say a word. You’ve tossed aside a good man because, why?” she asked. “You don’t think getting involved with a driver is a smart idea? That’s the most ridiculous excuse I’ve ever heard because Derrick isn’t like most drivers. And believe me. I know all the asshole drivers out there. Derrick isn’t one of them. He’s the best boss I’ve ever had, and the kindest man I know. But then he said you were freaked out about having kids.”
“I’m not freaked out, I just don’t want kids.”
“And he’d be fine with that, he really would. You’re the one who seems to think it’s a deal breaker.”
“Isn’t it?”
“You tell me, Callie.”
She couldn’t tell her anything. “You know for sure Derrick doesn’t mind the fact that I don’t want kids?”
“I don’t think he’d care if you wanted twenty pink elephants.” She took a step toward her. “The man loves you, Callie. That much I do know.”
With the words hanging in the air, she turned around. Callie watching her walk away. She would have bet Derrick had moved on by now.
He loves you.
Okay, so maybe he did, she thought. Would it be enough though?
“Excuse me,” someone said.
Callie started. A man pushing a tool box peered around the edge of the massive red box.
“Oh, sorry.” She lifted a hand in acknowledgement.
It was a member of Shane Houser’s team, his yellow and red colors as obnoxious as the man himself. Callie stepped out of the way, but she wasn’t really paying attention. Okay, so Derrick still loved her. He wasn’t out partying it up with a big-busted cheerleader—as she’d imagined. Maybe he wouldn’t mind the fact that she didn’t want children.
“Excuse me,” the man said again. When Callie met his gaze he was shooting her a look of impatience. Whatever, she thought, stepping back as the man opened up a drawer on the side of the toolbox. She wasn’t really curious about what was inside. Honestly, she was too busy with her thoughts to pay much attention. That’s probably why she didn’t see them right away.
Nails.
Flat-headed, black nails.
Like the one they’d found in Shane’s tire.
She took a step back, locked eyes with the mechanic when he glanced over at her. “Sorry,” she repeated, moving away.
Her heart had started to pound. Why? It wasn’t like those nails were exclusive to the Shane Houser team.
Yes, but what were they doing in a tool box?
She started walking, hoping it would help to clear her head. So there were strange, flat-headed nails in the Shane Houser toolbox. It didn’t prove anything.
She shot another look at the mechanic again. He was tall. Lean. She’d seen someone like that at the track. No. Not actually at the track. On the road outside of the track.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Callie blinked, stunned to be face-to-face with Derrick. But what shocked her the most was how much she wanted to run into his arms. She actually rocked forward for a moment.
“Derrick,” She said softly.
“Is seeing me such a shock?” he asked, concern on his face—on his handsome, caring face.
She looked down at the ground, at her toes, so completely overcome by emotion it was all she could do to look him in the eyes again.
Get a hold of yourself, Callie.
She took a deep breath, which might be why her next words came out in a rush. “I think I know who sabotaged Bill’s car.”
His brown eyes widened. “Who?”
“That guy over there. By Shane’s tool box.”
She caught the scent of him again. Damn it. She’d forgotten how good he smelled.
“What?” He paused for a moment, turned toward the man in question, a black-headed kid with an ego as big as Shane’s.
She let him take a quick glance before pulling him around. “I think I passed him in my car the night before Bill’s car exploded.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, I’m not sure. But I spotted some nails, Derrick. The same kind of nail we found in Shane’s tire.”
“Wait,” he said, stopping again and glancing back at the guy. He looked so good standing there in his light-blue shirt. A lock of his hair had fallen over his forehead. She had to fight the urge to swipe it from his eyes.
“Are you inferring Shane might have sabotaged his own car?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Remember. You were supposed to drive that car.”
“Yeah, but if he knew his car was rigged, why would he drive it so hard?”
“Maybe he didn’t know,” she said. “Maybe he’s not the one behind it all.”
“Then who?”
“Someone else on his team. Someone close to him.”
“Such as?” he asked.
“His dad.”
Derrick’s brow swooped up. Everyone on the circuit knew Shane’s dad was an ass. Overbearing. Loud. Rude.
“I don’t know,” Derrick murmured softly. “I can’t imagine someone on Shane’s team doing such a thing.”
“I can. They all want to get to the top—however they have to do it.”
“Maybe.”
She let her words sink in for a moment. “If he is the one, we need to tell our head of security. Someone needs to keep an eye on him.”
“Crap, Callie. He’s been here all morning. If it is him,” he said, glancing over his shoulder again, “he might have already done something.”
“Quit looking at him,” she hissed.
“He looks familiar.” He squinted. “I think I’ve seen him around the circuit before.”
“Have you seen him around Shane’s dad?”
“No.” He frowned. “But, remember, I don’t race with Shane.”
“But what if it is him?”
His eyes darted over her face, and if she wasn’t mistaken, his expression softened. “I don’t think we can rule out anybody at this point.”
She nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“So let’s go then.”
“Go where?” she asked.
“Let’s go talk to the head of security.”
She was so grateful for his support, even more so when they located Alex Ross standing outside the garage. He was a veteran police officer, someone who’d come highly recommended, but he had cop stamped all over him. Short gray hair. Steady eyes. Calm demeanor. She explained what she’d seen, both in the tool box and on that long ago night. Derrick relayed what he’d heard about Shane’s team—how cutthroat they were, known for cheating. Honestly, Callie was surprised they hadn’t thought of Shane’s team before. Then again, they’d immediately discounted him because he’d been a victim as well.
“I’ll have my guys keep a close eye on him,” Alex said. He was an older man with silver hair and light-blue eyes, and Callie could tell he’d taken them seriously.
“Thanks,” Callie said, relieved he hadn’t laughed her off the race track.
“Are you racing tomorrow, Mr. Derringer?” Alex asked.
“I am.”
She’d known that would be his response. Still, her heart jumped before quickly plummeting to her toes. She didn’t want him to drive. She wanted him to withdraw. To stay away from potential trouble.
“Well, I’m a really big fan,” Alex said. “And I’m going to do my best to keep you safe.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
Alex nodded to her before turning away. He was going to call a meeting with his guys. Callie hoped it wasn�
��t too late. Just as Derrick said, Shane’s crew had had access to the garage all morning.
“You look tired,” he said softly.
“It’s the sun,” she instantly contradicted. “The sun’s bright out here.”
“We could go to my hauler.”
Her gaze flew toward him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“No?” he asked, giving her a crooked smile.
“No.”
“Still attracted to me?”
“No,” she answered instantly.
“Liar,” he said, smiling.
Yes, she was. Damn it. She was starting to realize it was futile to fight it. She was attracted to him in a way that turned her world upside down. That she’d never felt before. That she knew was unique and special and hard to find.
“I better go,” It was all she could do to get the words out.
Coward.
“Take care of yourself tomorrow, Derrick.”
“I will.” Then he startled her by reaching out and stroking her cheek. “You too, Callie.” There was such sadness in his eyes, such longing, it damn near made her cry.
He turned away before she could say another word. Callie let him go, but she couldn’t stop the word that erupted from her mouth.
“Damn.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
They kept a close watch on Shane’s team—to no avail. Race day dawned with nobody in custody and Callie’s nerves stretched as taut as a spider’s web. Sure, there was a chance nothing would happen, but Callie didn’t think they’d be that lucky. A tension hung in the air. It made her heart beat faster and her palms to sweat. Mixed in with her fear was an elation she couldn’t deny.
It was real.
XRL would race today. Her league. Her baby. Her dream.
“Isn’t this great?” Veronica said when they were an hour away from the start of the race. It was like a circus. Colorful cars were parked along pit road. Camera crews in various locations (their race would be broadcast on a cable sports network live, a major coup on Mike Miller’s part). “Look at all the people.”
That was the most surprising of all. The grandstands were packed. Granted, they weren’t as large as the big leagues, but it was a start. They’d begun to arrive yesterday, many of them in RVs. Scores of them.
Burning Rubber: Extreme Racing, Book 2 Page 22
