“The hat! I saw his hat! I was right behind him on the road that night!”
Buster stared at Quint, suddenly comprehending. “I’m not the only person who has a hat like this,” he said slowly. “We all had ’em.”
Quint’s chest felt heavy, like it was ready to burst. “Who?” he demanded, not ready to let go of his anger. “Who else has one?”
“All four of us…Percy, Charlie, Kent, and I. We had them made when we started racing. We were all on the same team that first year.”
Charlie stepped up and pulled his hat out of his back pocket. “He’s right, Quint, here’s mine.”
Quint stared at the hat as Charlie turned it over to display the rings. “That one is so faded you can barely see the rings. It couldn’t have been the hat I saw in the car.”
“Whoa,” Sergio said. “That leaves Kent Riker. He walked by heading for the elevator not ten minutes ago. By the look on his face, he was stalking a grizzly.”
Quint sucked in his breath. “My God, Jamie’s upstairs.”
He jerked free of Tim and Hal and charged for the elevator. It was descending from the fourth floor. Slamming his thumb repeatedly on the up button, he willed it to move faster. “Somebody take the stairs!” he yelled. “Sixth floor, room 661.”
Hal charged for the stairway, with Tim right behind him.
When the elevator finally came Buster leaped into it shoving Quint ahead of him before the doors had entirely opened. Quint stabbed his index finger on number six and began working the ‘close door’ button, cursing as he waited impatiently for the door to close. All he could do was try to stay calm, while his heart hammered in his throat. The elevator finally started moving upward with the speed of a sloth.
He watched the floor numbers change all too slowly as they ascended. “I’m sorry,” he said to Buster. “I saw the hat and went a little crazy.”
“We can worry about that later, after we make sure Jamie’s okay.”
Quint pulled his key card out of his pocket as the door opened on six. He raced to the room with Buster close on his heels. As he expected, the door was locked. It took him three tries with the plastic key until the green light showed. He burst into the suite and started searching the rooms, calling for Jamie as he went.
She didn’t answer.
“There’s a note,” Buster said picking up a slip of hotel stationary from the table. He read:
Went down to Clay’s room.
He thinks he knows who killed Jimbo.
Quint grabbed the note from Buster’s hand. “What’s the room number?”
“It doesn’t say.”
Quint snatched up the phone and dialed the front desk just as Hal and Tim came huffing into the room. Before the desk answered, Quint yelled at Hal and Tim. “She’s not here! She went down to Clay’s room. Start checking the floors below us. Look for anything.”
Jamie stared at Kent Riker. She knew he was holding a .38 Magnum in his hand. T-Roy had had the same kind of gun. People aimed guns at other people all the time in the movies. Most of the time the victims laughed or said something clever in the face of danger, but she hadn’t laughed the time T-Roy jokingly pointed his supposedly empty gun at her, and she wasn’t laughing now. Her heart was pounding so fiercely in her throat it choked off any possibility of clever speech.
She stood numb and unmoving until Clay shoved her behind him. “Dad, have you lost your mind? Put that gun down.”
“We have to take care of her, Clay. She knows about you. And she was there that night at your house.”
“What night?”
Kent’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “The night your lover was killed.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Jamie’s known about me for a long time; she’s not going to tell anyone. Put the gun down.”
“She was there and so was her new boyfriend. They killed him. Go ahead, ask her if she was there.”
Clay turned to look at her. “Jamie?”
Jamie felt the blood drain from her face. For a moment she thought she would faint.
“It’s true, Clay, I was there. I went to get the Indianapolis tape. But Jimbo was already dead. You’ve got to believe me. I had no reason to kill him. Besides, how would he know I was there unless he was there himself?”
Clay whirled back to face his father. “So how do you explain that?”
When Kent didn’t answer, Clay erupted. “You rotten bastard. You killed an innocent, decent man. And why? Because I loved him? Because he loved me? Like you sure as hell never did.”
An angry shade of red colored Kent’s face. “I tried to love you, but you were so damn much like your simpering, stupid mother. If only you could have been more like T-Roy. T-Roy didn’t let anybody shit on his head. If he wanted to do something, he did it and asked questions later. He had guts, T-Roy did. He was like me. He—”
“I’m your son,” Clay said. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”
A cold smile spread across Kent’s hardened face. “T-Roy was my son too.”
Jamie tried to move past Clay. “That’s a lie, you evil bastard.”
Clay grabbed Jamie and held her to the side. “What do you expect to gain by making up a story like that?” he asked his father.
“It’s not a story. He was my son. I couldn’t claim him, because Katherine wanted to marry Buster.
“What are you saying?” Jamie hissed, her breath coming in short gasps.
Kent Riker laughed, an ugly empty laugh. “She was pregnant with my son, but she wouldn’t marry me. She had to have Buster. Buster had more money than I did, and a better driving record. The only things important to her had dollar signs on them. I was stuck with Clay’s ditzy mother.”
Jamie pressed a hand over her mouth. Her stomach roiled. “Did Buster know that?” she managed to ask.
“No, and I couldn’t tell him because Katherine would have cut me off. I finally talked her into leaving him, but instead of coming to me, she disappeared. It took me five years to track her down.”
Kent leveled the gun at Jamie’s head, his expression darkening. “I don’t want to shoot you, Jamie, too messy. You’re going to jump over the balcony. Who knows, it’s only four stories, you might live. Help her, Clay. If we can keep it under wraps that you sleep with men, I just might be able to love you like a son.”
Nobody knew Quint was in the room until his arms wrapped around Kent Riker from behind. He jerked Kent’s body to the side so the gun was no longer aimed at Jamie. An instant later Clay and Buster were on top of Kent, helping to hold him down.
Clay pried the gun from his father’s fingers. He stood up, tears streaming down his face, and aimed it at Kent’s head. “Now I’m going to send you to hell where you belong.”
Before Clay could pull the trigger, Jamie stepped in front of him. “No, Clay, don’t do it.”
He tried to shove Jamie aside but she clamped her fingers on his shirt and stood her ground.
“Jamie, get out of the way,” Quint and Buster yelled simultaneously.
“Let me go,” Clay said. He stepped back a couple of feet, trying to shake free of Jamie’s clutching fingers.
“No, Clay,” she pleaded, with broken sobs. “He’s not worth it. You’ll spend the rest of your life in jail. He’s not worth it, Clay. Please.”
As Clay looked down at her, his face crumpled. He drew a shuddering breath, dropped the gun, and threw his arms around Jamie, sobbing. “He killed Jimbo, Jamie. He killed my poor sweet Jimbo. I loved him so much.”
Jamie held Clay while Quint and Buster kept Kent Riker pinned to the floor on his stomach with his arms twisted behind his back.
“He killed my mother too,” Jamie said softly.
“You can’t prove that,” Riker shouted from the floor.
He howled when Quint gave his twisted arm a jerk. “The hell we can’t. You really should start wearing gloves when you go around trying to kill people. The prints on Bentler’s Cadillac matched those on a wrench found in Kat
herine’s car. Want to make any bets about whose prints they are? And what about Jimbo?”
Kent grimaced from pain but it didn’t stop him from snarling. “You can’t prove I killed that fucking fag, and there’s no proof that Katherine was killed. For all you know it might have been suicide.”
“Maybe a search warrant will find a missing autopsy report at your place,” Quint said.
Riker laughed. “If I had it, do you think I’d be stupid enough to keep it?” He yelped again when Quint gave his arm another tug.
Quint looked up at Clay. “Pick up the gun Clay, and bring it over here.”
“No,” Jamie screamed.
Quint narrowed his eyes at Clay and jerked his head toward the gun. “Do it, Clay.”
Tim and Hal burst through the open door breathing hard. It took them three seconds to assess the situation.
“I’ll call the police,” Tim gasped.
“No,” Quint ordered. “Not yet.”
“Are you all fucking crazy?” Kent hollered.
“Yeah,” Quint said, “we’re all a little crazy here. Bring the gun over and point it at his head, Clay.”
This time Jamie and Clay understood. Clay released Jamie and picked up the gun. His hand trembled as he held the weapon within inches of his father’s head.
“Tell me what happened with Jimbo, and I might just spare your miserable life,” he growled.
Kent Riker cursed, trying to move his head. Clay moved the gun closer, pressing it against his father’s temple. Clay’s hand stopped shaking as he wiggled his finger on the trigger. “I really hate to do this but—”
“Goddamn you,” Kent yelled. “I’m your father!”
“It’s too late for sentimental bullshit. Tell me about Jimbo.”
Kent squirmed and swore again. “I saw the two of you together in a bar just before the Labor Day race. I was so disgusted, I went into the john and threw up. If any of the guys found out I wouldn’t be able to hold my head up, and you would have been finished. I went there that night to tell him to leave you alone, that he was ruining your career. I wasn’t planning to kill him, but he attacked me.”
“That’s a lie,” Clay said, leaning on the gun, making an imprint in the hard surface of Kent’s head. “Jimbo had no violence in him whatsoever.”
With his face pressed to the floor and a loaded gun at his head, Kent Riker laughed. “You’d be surprised how a sniveling coward will fight when you wave a gun in his face.”
Clay’s breathing intensified and his eyes glazed over. Sweat dotted his forehead.
“Clay?” Quint said quietly, then more urgently. “Clay!”
Clay looked up and nodded. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed the bile in his throat. “What about Katherine?” he rasped.
“I didn’t mean to kill her. It was an accident. I wanted to make love to her and she laughed at me. I slapped her and told her to quit laughing. She did, but she started calling me names, said I wasn’t even half a man. I told the bitch to shut up but she just kept at me. Finally, I shoved her back against the car. She fell and hit her head on the bumper. I didn’t mean for her to die. I loved her. I wouldn’t have killed her.”
Quint nodded at Tim. “Okay, now you can make that call.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I saw a movie once where a man was asked to name the best day of his life. He said it was the day his abusive father walked out. Then he went on to say it was also the worst day of his life. I think that’s how Clay must have felt tonight when they led his father out of that room in handcuffs.”
Jamie sat at the table in her room with her hands clenched in front of her. She was still wearing her champagne-splattered pink suit.
“I’d say that pretty well sums it up,” Quint said.
Jamie looked up at Quint, her eyes full of pain. “I’m just thankful T-Roy never had to find out that Kent Riker was his father. Did you know about that?”
“Did I know about what?”
“That T-Roy wasn’t Buster’s son?”
Quint sat down across from her and placed his hands over hers. “You’re cold,” he said. He started rubbing her fingers. “I knew that one of you didn’t belong to him, but I didn’t know if it was you or T-Roy.”
“Do you think Buster was telling the truth about me being his real daughter?”
“Yes, I do. I don’t think he’d lie about a thing like that. Not now. Not after all that’s happened.”
“I still can’t believe Kent killed Jimbo just because he was gay.”
“He killed him because of his association with Clay. Kent must have thought if he got rid of everyone who knew about Clay it would all go away. Some people just don’t understand. They can’t handle anyone who’s different.”
“I think he was serious when he said he didn’t mean to kill my mother. He really loved her.”
“Frankly, I don’t think the man knows what love is.” Quint got up and stepped around the table. He lifted Jamie to her feet and pulled her into his arms. “Listen honey, you’ve had one helluva day. But I know the guys downstairs are all worried about you. Especially after they all saw me shove Buster up against the wall and accuse him of killing your mother.”
Jamie gaped up at him “You did what?”
Quint grimaced. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now why don’t you go in and take a shower and we’ll go downstairs and join your party. You are the main attraction, you know.”
Jamie sighed. “It’s hard to feel like partying right now, but you’re right, we’ll party now and talk later. I’ll go shower.” She pulled away from him, unzipped her suit, and wearing nothing but pink short-shorts and a belly-baring top, headed for the bathroom.
Quint watched her, smiling. Her outfit reminded him of the first time he’d seen her. He marched into the bathroom behind her. “Remember that rain check you promised me, the one about a joint shower?”
It was after midnight when Quint and Jamie got back to their room.
“It was a great party in spite of that nasty business earlier,” Jamie said, slipping off her denim skirt and cotton blouse. “It’s a good thing the guys who aren’t staying in the hotel are within walking distance.”
Quint pulled off his own shirt as he watched her undress with growing interest. He felt pleased about how comfortable they’d become with each other. Just like old married folks, he thought.
“Oh, but the party’s not over,” he said.
Jamie glanced at him as he dropped his pants. “Oh.” she said.
“Come here, sweetheart, so I can congratulate you properly, or are you too tired?”
Jamie grinned. “The sight of you naked has a way of energizing me.”
“Need an extra battery?”
Jamie went into his arms, laughing.
For a moment he just held her. “I love you, Jamie LeCorre, NASCAR driver. You are the light of my life.”
“And you are the change in mine. You’ve taught me what it’s like to love and be loved in return,” she said.
“Let’s get married, Jamie.”
Jamie looked up at him. “I want to marry you, Quint, but…what about racing? I know you hate it when I drive.”
Quint smiled down at her. “Today I was actually cheering you on. It was exhilarating. I can’t even begin to tell you how I felt when you won. At least now I know no one will be out there deliberately trying to put you in harm’s way, more than you already are, that is. I’ve learned a lot. I’ve watched several races and seen numerous crashes. In all that time no one was killed or even seriously injured. I guess I’ll choose to believe those cars are well protected.” He kissed her ear and whispered, “We can write our own vows. I will promise to cheer for you when you win, comfort you when you lose, and nurse you back to health if you get hurt.”
“What will my vows be?” she asked.
“You tell me, honey.”
“All right,” she said, pausing a moment to think. “I will live wherever you want
me to, New York or Chicago, or South Africa if that’s what you choose. We’ll work it out. I just want to be with you every possible minute we can manage. And I will vow not to drive while I’m pregnant.”
Quint blinked at the happiness pooling in his eyes. Next to wanting her, he wanted a family, a real family, their family. “Tell me you want to start planning a wedding.”
She put her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Quint Douglas. The racing season ends in seven weeks and we can be married anytime after that.”
He picked her up and swung her around. “I love you so much,” he said. “I can’t even remember what life was like without you.”
“Probably pretty quiet,” she said.
“Now that’s an understatement.”
Epilogue
By the time the racing season ended in November, Jamie had two more wins. She had also totaled two cars in violent crashes, walking away from both without injury. She ranked a respectable fifth place in the Nextell Cup Challenge.
Spending Christmas in New York with Quint and the entire Douglas family was a dream come true for Jamie. Corinne and Billy were there with their two-month-old daughter, Diana Rose. Nicole and Hunter came from Minnesota, bringing Shanna and Kyle to their first Douglas family Christmas in New York.
Virgil and Stephen enjoyed playing the proud uncles to the fullest.
When Nicole announced on Christmas Eve that she and Hunter were going to have a baby in June, Jamie beamed with emotion. She threw her arms around her dearest friend, blinking rapidly at the tears scalding her eyes.
“I’m so happy for you,” Jamie said.
Nicole smiled. “Maybe next year at this time, you’ll be making your own announcement.”
“Actually,” Jamie said, smiling mistily at Quint. “We have one now. We’re getting married in February.”
Quint put an arm around Jamie. “If I have anything to say about it, we’ll have another announcement soon after that.”
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