Avoidable Contact (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-four

11:05 P.M. | 15:05 HOURS REMAINING

I made it back to the chain-link fence in time to watch my father leave Arena Motorsports with the SGTV and Porsche representatives. He looked in my direction and lifted a hand. I nodded, not wanting attention called to my presence. He kept walking.

At the Arena tent, Monica reappeared. My stomach clenched. She stood with a different man with close-cropped dark hair and long sideburns.

“Who's that with her?” I asked Holly, my words swallowed by a prototype roaring out of the pits past us.

“The hatchet man.”

“That's his title?”

She laughed. “Rumor is he does the dirty work for Arena in the team. Officially, he does a combination of computer setup and logistics. Nice guy, more friendly and open than some of the others around there.”

“Except for maybe being a hatchet man.”

“I think his name's Ryan. Ryan Johnston.”

I glanced back and saw Ryan and the witch greet Tug Brehan and Elizabeth Rogers. I looked at Holly. “When did I start thinking of the Arena team as the evil empire?”

Holly pointed to the empty pit space between our teams—except it wasn't empty any longer. The wall panels between the Arena space and the former WiseGuy space had been unlaced, and someone had rolled a tool chest into the opening to hold open one flap of the tent wall. “You did call him bold,” she noted.

I drained the last of my water and walked to the garbage can near Arena's tent to toss the bottle. Two plastic chairs and a cooler were set up next to the pit wall in the WiseGuy space. A crew member ducked through the opening into the dark, empty pit space and lit up a cigarette. A second guy arrived a minute later, and the two held an animated conversation, judging by the red ends of their cigarettes being waved around.

“Taking full advantage of the space,” I commented to Holly. “Is that allowed in the rules?”

“Doubtful.”

I shook my head, pulled out my phone, and typed an update to Calhoun.

Holly glanced over. “Are you ratting them out to the Series?”

“Calhoun. Updating who else we've seen.”

“Wrap it up, because someone's on his way to talk to you.”

I caught sight of my father headed back down the walkway toward me.

“I'll leave you to it.” Holly crossed to the tent.

He greeted me, taking Holly's spot. “How are you doing?”

I shrugged. “I'm coping. I've had better races. Better weekends. Did you—were you able to find anything out for me?”

“Not much more than you already know. The Series staff I spoke with said they're keeping you informed, and I could only press them for so much.”

Keeping me informed? He's not talking about Arena, he's talking about Stuart.
I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes. Guilt washed over me. I hadn't forgotten about Stuart. But I was focusing more on the details of who'd done him wrong—at least I could have some impact on that.

“Kate, are you all right?”

I dropped my hands and tried to find a smile for James. “What did they tell you?” He hesitated, and I pressed him. “I'd rather hear it from you than through paddock gossip. You know it'll get out.”

“And better you hear it from me than from someone excited about the details of someone they don't know.”

I braced myself.

“The scuttlebutt concerns some of the more distressing details of the accident itself.” He took a deep breath. “A witness says when Stuart was hit, he flew at least fifteen feet and bounced three times. Also his non–life threatening injuries are more severe than they've reported to you. Both arms and both legs are broken, along with a shoulder blade and an undetermined number of ribs.”

My throat felt like it had seized up. I fought to drag a breath into my lungs.

My father put a hand on my shoulder. “I'm sorry. That's why I didn't want to tell you.”

I felt numb, my whole being focused on a vision of Stuart being hit by a car. Almost killed. Maybe dying on an operating table. I surprised myself with a single sob, though my eyes were dry.

My father hesitantly reached out and pulled me into his arms, patting my back softly. It was the first time we'd hugged. I relaxed into him for three heartbeats before realizing I didn't want our relationship to make the rounds of gossip along with the details of Stuart's injuries.

“I'm all right.” I pulled away, but gently, trying not to notice his disappointment.

He cleared his throat. “On another topic, did you see that your—my daughter, Lara, is here? With Benchmark Racing?”

“I saw her. What's she doing? Isn't she still in college?”

“She's majoring in math and wanted some experience running computational models on the raw data the cars transmit.” He smiled, obviously proud. “I'm not sure of the details, but she's volunteering for them. Maybe you can stop in and say hello. She mentioned hoping to see you this weekend.”

I hesitated. Thought of all the reasons why
not
to see her, primarily my reluctance to leap into the bosom of my father's family, as well as not wanting to broadcast the connection. I sighed. “I'll try.”

My father looked around and lowered his voice. “What was it you were asking me about Richard Arena?”

“I need some information, and I can't exactly explain why. And I need you to not tell anyone. Please.”

He regarded me solemnly for a moment, then spoke. “As long as it's not illegal or immoral—which I don't expect, mind you—I'll help you in any way I can.”

Now I'm going to owe him, dammit.
“Thank you. I don't think this is either. I'm looking for information about who is interacting with the Arena team. Who the team principals are—besides Richard Arena, of course. Who the partners and sponsors are, who the drivers are, especially the gentlemen drivers.” I saw him start to frown. “I'm not asking for any information that's private—I don't want to know who's spending what or why. I'm looking for names. Even photos of the scene and people would be great.”

“I don't—sorry. You can't say why.” He paused. “Forgive me, I have to ask this. The information won't compromise the team or car—or bring harm to anyone?”

How do I answer that?
“Not unless they deserve it.”

“I can live with that.”

He gave me a brief rundown on the corporate sponsors of each Arena team car, most of which had a company executive doing a rotation behind the wheel. “That includes my brother Edward, of course,” he said. “You knew that.”

“I didn't think he was here. I didn't see his name in the program.”

“He goes by Ed Grant—his middle name—when he wants to downplay his relation to the bank.”

“He's not the most popular driver in the paddock today, after mixing it up with the prototype.”

My father looked momentarily troubled. Then he shrugged, an unusual gesture from him. “That's his situation to manage. Nothing I can do about it.”

My father ran down the basic, public facts about Richard Arena, adding he'd been impressed with Arena's focus and business acumen, even through limited interaction. “To be so successful across multiple corporations—and racing teams—almost requires some amount of aggression or ruthlessness. I speculate that exists. I don't know it.”

He paused again. “Let me think more about other individuals who may have a connection to him. I'll send a message with anything else.”

“Thank you. Again, please don't tell anyone. Especially not Arena. Or your brother.”

He went still. “My brother can take care of himself.”

“I didn't know if you were concerned with…
protecting
him in some way.”

“My brother doesn't need my protection—and I'm long past taking his advice, especially when the topic is y—my personal life.”

I wondered if he'd started to say “when the topic is you.” My insides twisted at the thought of his brother saying anything at all about me.

My father put a hand on my shoulder and spoke again. “Besides, Kate, this is what families do for each other—and you're family now. Finally.”

I found it hard to breathe again.
That's what I was afraid of.

Chapter Twenty-five

11:15 P.M. | 14:55 HOURS REMAINING

After my father left, I joined Holly at the side of the tent. We had a view of a pit stop by the Viper in the pit space on the other side of us—an unplanned stop, if the smoke coming from the engine was any indication. As we watched the mechanics work, I filled her in on what my father told me.

She studied my face. “Are you all right about Stuart? I'm sorry you had to hear that.”

“Had
you
heard it?”

“No, but I knew something was making the rounds.”

I felt visceral pain at the thought of how badly Stuart was hurt. “I'm dealing with it.” Almost without thinking, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket to check for messages. Nothing. I texted Polly to ask when the next surgery would take place.

“If your father's not interested in protecting his brother,” Holly went on, “it wasn't him we heard in the Arena tent.”

“We can't assume every stray comment we hear means something.” I shrugged and handed her my father's list of names.

She raised her eyes from the list. “I didn't realize the Arena team was also sponsored by SunWise Oil.”

“Isn't that a typical supplier deal where the team runs the sponsor logo in return for a discount price on the product?”

“I think there are only three teams using SunWise: Arena, Benchmark, and Western Racing.”

“I'm not sure what that tells us.”

“Hell, me either,” she said on a laugh, turning back to the list. “Here's something interesting.”

I looked at the name. “Willie, the Michelin rep?”

“Willie used to be married to Cecilia, down at Carnegie Performance Group.”

Sam's team.
“That's interesting?”

“Cecilia and Willie don't get along so well these days. Cecilia's brother Robert hates Willie with a passion. Robert is here driving with his Grand-Am team, Redemption Racing, which is owned by CPG—CPG is the parent company, only runs NASCAR, and Redemption is the sportscar racing offshoot. Here at this race, they're really one team sharing resources.”

“Two teams associated like that is pretty standard. Didn't one of the main tech guys from the ALMS end up with Redemption? Plus Raul Salas is driving for them.”

Holly smiled. “Mmmm, Raul. And you're right, Bob Something-long-and-Slavic wound up there after not being invited to join the new series. Plus Redemption is home to Joe Smith.” She gave the name air quotes. “Robert's good friend and teammate here and in Grand-Am.”

“What's with Joe Smith?”

“We all know it's an alias, we just don't know for what. Or who or why.”

“Have you met him?”

“Seen him,” she said. “Ordinary, late twenties, dark, sort of Latin looking. Decent driver—not a pro, but a good and improving amateur who must bring money.”

“Is the alias to hide where the money's coming from?”

“We assume. Did I mention the reason Willie and Cecilia split was because Willie had an affair with a woman who works for Arena Motorsports?”

“No doubt who that is.”

Holly agreed. “Also, Joe Smith used to race with Arena, until a heated fight in the paddock at this race last year. By mid-year, Redemption Racing appeared with Joe and Robert featured. Rumor has it Stuart was involved in helping Redemption get connected, supplied, and approved in time to run half a season last year.”

“To summarize: there's more than one person up at Redemption Racing, and the sister team of CPG, who's got it in for Arena Motorsports. Also the existence of Redemption Racing might be a reason for someone at the Arena team to be mad at Stuart.”

“Bingo. And if you want pure gossip—”

“Why stop now?”

“There's the man Cecilia took up with right after she and Willie split—he was responsible for spreading the news that Willie and Monica were sneaking around.” She nodded down pit lane.

Tug Brehan exited the Arena tent, shooting his cuffs and looking up and down the walkway. Elizabeth Rogers appeared a moment later, escorted by evil cousin number one, Holden Sherain. It was difficult not to stare at the group open-mouthed.

“That's quite a story,” I muttered. “And that's quite a trio.”

“I'm not sure of Tug's role, but the other two remind me of Little Red Riding Hood and the big, bad wolf.”

“Elizabeth looks enamored.” Every bit of body language, plus what I could see of her facial expression, said the blonde, bland Elizabeth was infatuated, flirting with Sherain. His body, in contrast, read as no more interested or less aloof than usual. But I couldn't see his face.

Holly shrugged. “Maybe he's into her.”

“The soap opera you told me, Holly. As entertaining as it is, how does any of it relate to someone hurting Stuart? Or—” I glanced around and lowered my voice further “—to Arena being a crook?”

“I'm not sure. I'm curious why Joe Smith bailed out so fast on a good car. Plus I know there's still a lot of anger, at least on Redemption's side. I wonder if there are revenge or retribution plays in process.”

“Maybe you can find out.” I stopped there. Tug and Elizabeth were on approach.

“Are you both out here studying the stars?” Tug had a smile on his face. “Reading the zodiac to predict what will happen in the race?”

“Getting some air.” I wasn't in a mood to be teased.

He sobered. “No more word yet, I'm sorry.”

“How's everything going from your end?” Holly asked.

Tug shook his head, smiling again. “It hasn't been the easiest race. Terrible events to be dealing with. But I think we have things sufficiently in hand.”

“And fortunately,” Elizabeth put in, her voice low and firm, “It's not as if we were new to the job.”

Holly turned to her. “You're now back to the jobs you held in Grand-Am last year?”

Tug let Elizabeth respond. “The same positions, yes, though the landscape has shifted significantly.”

I studied their contrasting styles and personalities and understood the choice of Stuart over them. Stuart offered the whole package, while Tug and Elizabeth made a balanced team. For the first time I wondered exactly how difficult it had been for them to lose the jobs they'd had. To lose the influence they'd wielded—or a career, in Elizabeth's case. I wondered how hungry they were for power.

“I've heard the merging of two series into one hasn't always gone smoothly,” Holly put in. “I know at least one person who was angry about not being given a position in the new Series. Felt undervalued for the work he'd done over the years. Threw around some pretty dramatic words.”

Elizabeth looked as composed and impassive as ever.

“That's been straightened out.” Tug waved his hands in denial. “He's quite happy now at Benchmark.”

Holly agreed. “The other guy hasn't found a job yet, has he?”

Tug looked uncomfortable. “Not that I'm aware of, but you know, the new structure didn't suit everyone. Tough decisions had to be made.”

Someone from a team farther down pit lane paused as he walked past, asking Tug a question. While he responded, Elizabeth stepped closer to me and put a hand on my arm.

“I know you're concerned about Stuart, but believe me, the moment we hear anything, we'll let you know,” she murmured.

I didn't like the thought of strangers as the conduit for news of my boyfriend's fate, but there was little I could do about it. “I appreciate it.”

“I hope his situation isn't hampering your efforts in the race. I want to see a woman do well, so give 'em hell out there.”

“That's my plan.”

She smiled. “I also know Stuart wouldn't want his problems to get in the way of your racing.”

I fought to keep my expression neutral.
She wasn't hired by the new Series. She never worked with him. How did she know him?