“They’re hoping to see someone die,” she heard herself say.
“Callie!” Veronica exclaimed. “What a thing to say.”
“It’s true,” Callie said, and it was. It’d been one of the selling points of the XRL. Wild and raucous racing. Fast cars and no-holds barred racing. Only one problem. There was a killer on the loose.
“You’re just being a fuddy-dud,” Veronica said.
Her boss was in full-on Queen Bee of the Universe mode, right down to her attire. She wore sequins. Who wore green sequins on race day? Her shirt sparkled like a Las Vegas ball room. Her makeup was a bit over the top. Too dark. As if she expected to spend a lot of time on camera, which she did. Veronica had appointed herself official spokesperson of the XRL. That suited Callie fine. She didn’t mind having to wear the company colors, either—black and white, the color of winners! (According to Veronica.) She actually liked the white shirt with the black sides that matched her black jeans. Still, she preferred to stay behind the scenes—searching for a killer.
“Have you seen Derrick?” her boss asked. They stood near the pit stall of one of the race teams, Callie abashed to realize it was Derrick’s. “We were hoping to interview him since he was our fastest qualifier yesterday.”
“I have no idea,” Callie said, though she still felt a rush of pleasure it’d been Derrick who’d kicked everyone’s butt at their first qualifying session.
Her boss must have seen the joy in Callie’s eyes because her own gaze narrowed which, given her dark makeup, made her look less like a sultry vixen and more like a raccoon. “So it really is over between the two of you?”
“It would appear so.”
“Because I know you were with him in California,” Veronica said, wrinkling her nose and flicking her hair around as if she smelled something foul. “Jerry told me.”
She’d suspected Jerry had. That accounted for the anger she’d seen in Veronica’s eyes all those weeks ago. “That was a mistake.”
Liar.
“So you’re not nervous about him racing today?”
She was terrified. Beyond freaked out. Worried sick. She felt like sabotaging his car herself so he couldn’t even make it out onto the track. “I’m fine.”
Veronica stared down at her, hard. Callie realized the green sequins had been picked because they matched the exact shade of her eyes. “Glad to hear it,” Veronica said with—good Lord—a genuine smile. “We’re all allowed one last fling.” She looked behind her, her smile getting bigger. “Ooops. Gotta go. Mike’s motioning for me to join him.”
Off she went.
Callie found herself moving away as well, her eyes scanning, and then scanning the faces of the people who swarmed around her—mostly crew members and their family…for what? She didn’t know what she was looking for. She needed to do something. To keep Derrick safe.
“You look stressed.”
She drew up short because she recognized the voice even though she hadn’t seen him approach.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the race?” she asked, bracing herself as she turned to face him. He’d found her on pit lane, the X-TREME Machines lined up and ready to go, their colorful paint jobs glittering in the afternoon sun.
“What’s there to do but climb in the car?” he asked, his teeth flashing as he glanced at his red and white vehicle.
“Wince when you turn the car on, you know, in the event it might blow up.”
He laughed. It wasn’t the reaction she expected. She was terrified on his behalf. How could he not be equally frightened?
“Don’t worry. I had the boys install a remote start.”
“You didn’t.”
He laughed again. “Relax, Callie. The bomb sniffing dogs have done their job. Alex is confident there are no explosives in the infield. And my car hasn’t been out of my sight all weekend. It’ll be okay.”
Those dogs were still in use, walking up and down pit road with a man in blue following close behind. She’d wanted the canines to do their job before the fans started to arrive, but Veronica had thought they made for good photo ops.
Photo ops.
“It’s not just you I’m worried about,” she confessed.
“What?” he asked, but his eyes were teasing. “Is there someone else in your life?”
“You know the answer to that.”
He was in his firesuit, a vivid reminder of what he was about to do. “Good,” he said equally softly.
The words broke free as if torn from her heart. She couldn’t hold them back anymore, didn’t even want to try.
“I love you, Derrick,” she confessed. “I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you.”
He stared at her incredulously for a moment, but then a smile broke free. He scooted up next to her, the grin on his face growing so big it almost made her mad. How could he be grinning at a time like this?
“I love you too, Callie Monroe. I couldn’t climb into my race car without telling you that. And without insisting you marry me the minute this race is over.”
“Marry you!” she exclaimed.
He clasped her face between his hands. Her hair was pulled back, but she had a feeling if it’d been loose he have done what she’d wanted to do earlier—swipe it behind her ears. Instead he cupped her gently. Not hard, but enough to silence her. “Quiet,” he soothed. “We’ll work it out. If you don’t want kids, fine. We can get a dog. Or two. Or three. Whatever. I. Don’t. Care.” He leaned in close to her. “All I want is you.”
She felt tears warm her lashes. “Oh, Derrick.”
“Marry me?” he asked. Well, okay, it was more like an order.
She knew she should tell him no. Knew she should wait until after the race to give him an answer. Knew it was her fear of losing him that had her saying, “Okay.”
When she spotted the joy on his face, she knew she’d made the right decision.
“That’s my girl,” he said, kissing her right there in front of God and everybody.
“Finally,” someone said. “I swear, Callie, if you’d said no, I was going to smack you.”
It was Diane, and she was smiling. “Derrick. I hate to break this up, but you need to get to your car.”
He didn’t immediately let her go. He was still staring into her eyes, Callie’s spirits soaring at the look in his eyes. He loved her. Positively, absolutely loved her. She could see it there in his brown gaze, the sight of it filling her with a peace she wouldn’t have thought possible given the circumstances.
“Good luck.”
“Don’t need luck. Gonna win this one for you, Callie.” He let her go, Callie taking a sudden step backwards as if she’d been released for the force of a magnet.
“He’s going to be okay, you know. We’ve watched his car like a hawk. Nobody’s tampered with it.”
“I know.”
“Then stop looking so terrified.”
She stared into Diane’s eyes. “I am terrified.”
“C’mon,” Diane said. “Let’s get you set up in our pit stall. Unless you need to be somewhere else?”
“No, no,” Callie said. She didn’t want to stay seated. She wanted to observe. Still, how do you not watch the start of a race? Especially one you’d organized? One with the man of your dreams leading the pack?
You watched.
And while this wasn’t the grand production of a major race, it was still exciting to hear the call for the drivers to start their engines. Fortunately every one of those cars started without a major explosion, Callie not realizing how keyed up she’d been until the major hurdle was in the past. She could have sworn some of the crowd booed, but the rest of them cheered wildly as the cars started to roll forward. Her heart-pounded as the pace car took to the track. The only thing that stuck in her craw was Veronica waving the green flag. Callie had wanted someone from the armed forces to do it, but her boss had insisted and so Callie found herself looking away in disgust.
That’s when she spotted him.
> Everyone else had their eyes forward—even the police officers they’d hired—but not Callie. She was in the perfect position to spy the man with the tire. Although perhaps that wasn’t true. Perhaps a security officer was watching their bad guy, whose name she learned was Charlie. But what Charlie had just done was so innocuous. Commonplace. Even mundane. He was stacking tires for his team to use. Only he placed them in the wrong pit stall.
Was it a mistake?
Around her she heard the sound of car engines. They were picking up speed, the roar getting louder and louder. Callie waited to see if Charlie would move the tires back to his own pit. He’d set them down right next to his own pit stall and so he might not have noticed the mistake.
Or maybe it wasn’t a mistake.
She decided to investigate. Nothing too obvious. Just a stroll down pit road. Nobody even noticed her leaving. She smiled at the crew members who were becoming familiar now. Nodded to one of the security guards standing by Shane’s pit stall. She tried to appear nonchalant as she paused by the stack of tires. They looked…normal. Nothing sticking into the rubber. No under-inflated tires. Of course, wheels were stacked one on top of the other and so she couldn’t see the rims. She pondered what to do, but in the end her gut told her something wasn’t right, especially when she caught Charlie staring at her in question. He leaned against a smaller version of the toolbox he’d been pushing around yesterday, his eyes raking her up and down. It was the look he gave her that sealed it. He was trying to scare her away. Or maybe intimidate her into leaving. Either/or. She didn’t like it.
“Hey,” she called out to the nearest security guard. “We’re going to impound these tires.”
She’d met all the security guards the day before and so the man didn’t question her.
“And I also want to talk to Charlie.”
“Which one is he?” the guard asked.
She pointed in the man’s direction. “That one there. The black-haired kid in Shane’s pit stall. I watched him put these tires here—” she patted them, “—in the wrong pit.”
“Got it,” the security office said.
She watched as the man headed toward Charlie. Words were exchanged. Someone from Shane’s team very obviously came to Charlie’s defense and before Callie knew it, she had a screaming match on her hands. Callie tried to intercede. One of the television cameras pointed in their direction. Callie didn’t care. She had a hunch. Something was wrong with those tires. She didn’t know what it was, but she would bet he’d done something to them.
She told Alex that very thing when he arrived. “Search him,” Alex ordered.
“What!” Charlie yelled. Callie noticed then he had a tattoo on his arm. She could just make it out beneath the sleeve of his yellow and black work shirt. “You don’t have the right to do that.”
“Oh, yes, we do,” Alex said nonchalantly. He nodded to one of his officers. “Search him.”
“No,” Charlie said, stepping back.
“What’s going on here?”
It was Shane’s crew chief, the man having climbed down from the toolbox his crew used on race day. “You can’t harass my team while we’re racing.”
“We’re not harassing anyone,” Alex shot. “Search him.”
“I want a lawyer.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Charlie ran.
Everyone was so stunned nobody moved. Callie was the first to charge after him. It wasn’t long before someone passed her, Callie slowed down. What the hell was Charlie thinking? It wasn’t like he could go far. There was a race going on. He couldn’t cross the track, and the garage was so small. She watched as he ducked left, and when he did, something fell from his pocket…or had he dumped it? Nobody had seen the object fall to the ground; everyone was too busy chasing him. Breaking into a walk, Callie searched the ground for the object, leaving the men to catch up with Charlie and apprehend him.
“What is it?”
She glanced at Alex. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t the only one onto him. “There it is.” She scooped the thing up. At first she was almost disappointed. It was a tire gauge. Actually, it wasn’t a tire gauge. It was something different.
“What is that?” Alex asked.
“Looks like an attachment to an air hose.”
Alex took the thing from her. “Looks like an adapter.”
“Yeah, but to what?”
Alex was frowning. The cars roared by. Callie glanced up. Derrick was still in the lead. Her heart soared for a moment.
“Wait a minute,” Alex said. “I’ve seen this kind of attachment before.”
“Where?” Callie asked.
“On my barbeque.”
“What?”
The look on Alex’s face was the same one people got when they’d had a revelation. “I think I know what he did.”
“What?” Callie asked.
“He used propane to fill the tires.”
“Propane? But that’s—”
“Combustible.”
Chapter Thirty
Callie couldn’t believe it was over. Letting the air out of one of the tires was all it took. Everyone in the vicinity could smell the acrid stench of natural gas.
“That’s it,” Alex said with a grin.
“I don’t know how that got in there,” Charlie said when he was brought back to Shane’s pit.
“Sure you don’t,” Callie said.
“You can’t arrest me,” Charles said to Alex. “You’re not even a real cop.”
“You’re right, but I bet you I know someone who can arrest you. Someone who’ll be interested in talking to you about what happened in California.”
Sam Mathers. That’s who Alex referred to.
“And I do have the authority to hold you for questioning.”
“This is ridiculous,” Charlie said.
“Do you have someplace where we can hold him?”
“Inside the XRL motorcoach,” Callie said. “There’s an office in there.”
“Perfect,” Alex said, motioning for one of his officers to take Charlie there.
“But I didn’t do anything,” he still insisted.
“What’s going on?”
Callie half-glanced at Veronica. “We’re taking Charlie here into custody.”
“Why?” Veronica asked, glancing around the assorted faces. How she’d gotten to the infield when there was a race going on was anybody’s guess. Callie glanced out on the track and noticed there was a caution. Her gaze immediately went to the front of the field, her shoulders relaxing when she spotted Derrick’s blue and white car at the front…still.
“We found a device on him that suggests he filled some tires with propane.”
“Why ever would he do that?” Veronica asked.
“So they would explode,” Callie said.
“Is that possible?” Veronica asked Alex.
“It’s possible,” Alex said. “Tires get hot, especially on smaller tracks. Add in some white-hot brake pads and anything is possible.”
Callie had to admit, Veronica played the part of the outraged heroine to a T. Okay, okay, so maybe that wasn’t a nice thought, but she couldn’t help but think Veronica would milk this for all it’s worth.
“I’m out of here,” Callie said, turning away. “Alex, thanks for your help. Call me if you need me.” She turned to her boss. “Veronica, as of this day forward, I’m on a vacation.”
“Excuse me?” Veronica asked.
Callie glanced toward pit road again. Derrick was about to come in. “No, excuse me. I need to root on my future husband.”
She walked away without a backward glance.
“Callie,” Veronica called.
Callie ignored her, heart pumping, but not in fear of Veronica. Oh, no. Her heart thudded because she knew without a doubt she was making the right decision.
“You can’t just take off like that,” Veronica called.
“Yes,” Callie replied. “I can.”
Somehow she managed to
get in front of her, Veronica holding out a hand. “If you do I’ll fire you.”
“Fine,” Callie said, stepping around her. “No problem.”
“Callie!” Veronica yelled, and she was near enough to Derrick’s pit everyone turned and stared. Well, that wasn’t true, Diane smirked. “I mean it, I’ll fire you. I can’t have you getting involved with one of our drivers.”
That prompted Callie to turn on her heel, but she kept walking backward. “Then I guess you’ll have to fire me.”
“Callie,” Veronica yelled again, but this time her tone was pleading. “Please don’t do this.”
Callie was curious enough to stop. “Why, Veronica?”
She would have to give Veronica credit. The woman looked panicked. Maybe she wasn’t as dumb as Callie thought. “I need you.”
“Yes,” Callie said. “You do. But I’m getting married.” She couldn’t contain the grin spreading across her face. “And I refuse to work the hours I’ve been keeping. So if you don’t fire me, Veronica, that means you agree to keep me on…part-time.”
“No.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “Impossible.”
The cars were starting to come down pit road. Callie could hear them. “Then I guess we’re through.” She took off for Derrick’s pit, running. She wanted to be there for him. Wanted him to see her. To see her happiness.
She made it just in the nick of time, Callie trying to stand back and out of his pit crew’s way as they changed his tires and adjusted his car. Even though it was hard for him to turn his head with a helmet on, he managed to do so. Callie’s smile was brilliant. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought he might have smiled back.
“Want a headset?” Diane asked as he burned rubber down pit road.
“Sure,” Callie said, but before she could slip the thing on, someone tapped on her shoulder.
“Part-time,” Veronica said. “But I’ll need you here on race day.”
“Fine,” Callie said. “As you can see, I’ll be at the track on race weekends, anyway.”
To give Veronica credit, she seemed more concerned than angry. “Are you sure you’d doing the right thing?”
Burning Rubber: Extreme Racing, Book 2 Page 23
