by Megan Faust
Chapter Ten
The alarm was set for seven. The phone rang at five. Brant shut his eyes tighter and rolled over, which of course did nothing to stop the persistent ringing. Finally Seth sat up and grabbed the phone from the table between them.
“Yup,” he mumbled.
“Brant Bye?”
“This is his brother, Seth. Can I help?”
“This is about Rueben Mills. I understand he and Brant are business partners.”
“We’re all travelling together,” Seth said, more awake now. “What’s this about?”
“I’m with the New York City police. Mr. Mills is in the hospital. The man who brought him in said he was in business with Brant Bye at the Plaza Hotel. Are you available to answer a few questions?”
“We’ll be at the hospital as quickly as we can.”
“What is it?” Brant muttered. His foot was starting to throb and it was making it hard to stay asleep.
“Rueben’s in the hospital, get out of bed. The cops want to talk to us.”
Brant say up. “Cops? What for? I’ll bet anything that this has to do with Trey Williams.”
* * * *
Dr. Fisher was used to race car related injuries. As the closet hospital to the stock car track they were the primary drop point. He’d seen everything from little, quick stitch, mechanic’s injuries to the rare but tragic crash victim. Never in eight years of practicing had he ever had two managers in his care, and with a police officer hovering nearby.
“Well, it looks like you’ll have quite the goose egg but so far that looks like the only damage. I’d like to keep you here for the rest of the day, just in case you do have a concussion.”
The cop strode up. “If you’re finished I have a few questions that need clearing up.”
The doctor nodded and stepped aside. “He’s all yours.”
Before the officer could speak again there was a disturbance in the hallway that caught their attention. A moment later, Brant barged into the room with Seth in tow. “Where’s Rueben?” he demanded. “And who’s this guy?” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the man sitting on the exam bed.
“Are you Brant Bye?” the cop said.
Brant opened his mouth to give the cop a piece of his mind but Seth jumped in. “Yes, he’s Brant, and I’m Seth, and we’re looking for a friend.”
“Well, I’m Officer Stewart Minol and I’m in charge of the investigation into your friend’s assault. I’ll have a few questions for you as soon as I’m finished speaking to Mr. Sellens.”
“Please,” the man said, holding an ice-pack to the side of his head. “Just Boyd is fine.”
Brant’s jaw dropped a little. “You’re Trey William’s manager?”
Boyd nodded.
Officer Minol stepped in. “Why don’t you start by telling me what you were doing in a garage at four in the morning.”
Boyd shrugged. “Rueben called me, he said he wanted to talk about the sabotage. When I got there Rueben had some pretty compelling, and damning, evidence against Trey Williams, the driver I represent.”
“I knew it,” Brant said, rubbing his hands together. “Trust Rueben to figure it all out. I hope you’ve arrested Trey.”
The officer frowned at Brant. “Mr. Williams was taken into custody based on the initial statement of Mr. Sellens when he brought Mr. Mills to the hospital. He’s being questioned right now. Would you please let me do my job?”
“Of course,” Seth said, forcing Brant to take a step back.
“All right, Boyd, why don’t you tell me how you got that bump?”
“I got whacked with something hard, probably a tool or a car part since I was standing between a car and a tool bench. I hit my knees and everything went stars and flashes for a moment. I heard Reuben say ‘Trey, what are you doing?’ as someone stepped past me. There was a struggle and Reuben went down. When I could see straight Trey was gone and Rueben was out cold. I hauled him to the entrance after calling a cab on my phone and I brought him here.”
“You didn’t call an ambulance?” Officer Minol asked.
Boyd’s eyes went wide. “Now that would have been a good idea. Rueben was heavier than he looked. I guess I wasn’t really thinking too clearly.”
Dr. Fisher frowned. “We might want to do a few more tests just to confirm you don’t have a concussion though initial confusion isn’t uncommon.”
“So, where’s Rueben?” Seth asked as Brant stood sulking beside him.
“He’s just down the hall,” Dr. Fisher replied. “He’s still unconscious. Now, don’t panic. He took a bit of a beating, mainly around the head, but he’s not in a coma. He’ll likely be asleep until after dinner or even until tomorrow morning. He’ll probably have a severe concussion and a splitting headache. You can see him but he definitely can’t talk.”
“I’ll have an officer posted here to get his statement as soon as he’s able to give it,” Minol said.
“Why?” Brant demanded. “Boyd’s statement is pretty damning.”
“Unfortunately Boyd didn’t see who hit him and he wasn’t seeing clearly when your friend was attacked, he admitted as much. We’ll just need Rueben to confirm Boyd’s story. It won’t take long.”
“Until then you’ll hold Trey in custody?” Brant said.
“You will not!” shouted a familiar feminine voice.
“Chloe, you have a plane to catch, you’re already running late,” Brant snapped, turning to face the door and his sister.
“I’m not here to talk to you, Brant. I was told the officer who requested Trey be brought in for questioning was here.”
“That would be me,” Officer Minol said. “And you are?”
“Chloe Bye—Brant Bye’s sister and Trey William’s girlfriend. I’m also Trey’s alibi.”
“Get out of here Chloe,” Brant hissed. “This doesn’t concern you. Go home.”
“I’m very interested in what she has to say,” Officer Minol said.
“Trey Williams was with me, all night.”
“Sleeping is a great alibi,” Brant said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
“Except that I have a female bladder and the coffee I drank around eight hit me at three-thirty. Trey was sound asleep beside me when I finally dragged myself out of bed five minutes later and was still in bed when I got back. So unless he’s Superman I don’t think he could make it to the track in under twenty-five minutes—especially since he still needed to get dressed and find a cab.”
“How can anyone be so exact about the time?” Brant snapped.
“Because I was lying in bed staring at the clock for five minutes debating whether I should get out of my nice warm bed or not. Since I didn’t think peeing the bed was overly attractive I got up.”
“Your bed? You mean Trey’s bed?”
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”
The officer frowned. “Obviously there’s something going on here.”
“Sibling rivalry,” Seth said.
“I get that. I have three sisters myself.”
“Can we see Rueben?” Chloe asked the doctor.
“Of course, follow me.”
“But don’t run off,” the officer called after them. “I have to make a phone call and then I’ll need some contact information from each of you.”
A second officer stayed close to Boyd and the siblings followed the doctor down the hall. Reuben was tucked in a hospital bed wearing a faded blue gown. There was an IV in his arm and an oxygen mask over his face. He’d been washed and bandaged so they couldn’t see how bad the bruising was, just how many bandages there were and that was scary enough.
“There’s nothing broken?” Chloe asked her voice hushed.
“No, he got lucky. He got hit with something pretty hard but he must be one hell of a tough man. I can’t say whether he can hear you, he’s right out cold, but I say it never hurts to talk to a patient in this state. Buzz me if you need anything else.”
Chloe covered her mouth with her hand, tears springing to
her eyes. “Oh, Rueben, I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry?” Brant snapped. “Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’ve missed your plane home. You betrayed your family. Rueben’s in the hospital. And you’re still sticking up for that…that animal.”
“Brant, maybe you should…”
“Shut up, Seth. Chloe, do I need to die in a smoldering wreck before you’ll open your eyes! Rueben has proof! Trey was behind all of this all along. He played you.”
“You don’t know Trey and you obviously don’t know me. We’re done, Brant. Brother or not, blood or not, you and I are done.”
“Chloe, don’t say anything rash.”
“No, Seth. I’m done.” She turned back to Brant. “Rueben is in the hospital. He may have a concussion, and you’re too busy yelling at me to give a damn if he’s okay. You’re so goddamn full of yourself that you actually think you have the right to ship me off when I displease you. You even think you have the right to tell me who I can be involved with. Not even Dad has the right to tell me who I can and cannot fall in love with.”
“It’s a fling, Chloe.”
“I love him, Brant. I didn’t want this to come between us. I thought family could be stronger than this. But you are so stubborn and closed-minded I can’t get through to you. It’s not worth it anymore.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Officer Minol said, coming into the room. “Trey Williams was released since he couldn’t have beaten up your friend. Until we have evidence stronger than Boyd’s clouded memory Chloe’s alibi is all Trey needs. One of the officers was going to give him a ride back to the hotel but then Trey wanted to go to the stock car track.”
“The track,” Brant said. “The race! We have to go, now, or we’ll miss the check in.”
“I’ll drive you,” he said. “Then I can get your contact information at the same time.”
* * * *
Chloe burst from the front seat of the car and rushed off in the direction of Trey’s parking spot. Trey was already suited up and was reviewing plans and tactics with his spotter, a boy of maybe nineteen.
“Trey!” she shouted and crashed into his chest.
He rocked a little with the force of her and held her tight. “Thanks for getting me out of there. It was like being eighteen all over again. What do cops have against race car drivers anyways?”
“You drive too fast. Oh, Trey, don’t ever do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Get arrested!”
He chuckled. “Those days are behind me.” He pried her off. “Chloe, this is my kid brother, Jake. He’s been spotting for me this season. You can sit upstairs with him, unless you’re still spotting for Brant.”
“As far as Brant’s concerned I’m not even supposed to be here. My plane has left for home.” She kissed him just hard enough to make Jake cough and Trey blush. “Good luck.”
Chapter Eleven
Brant Bye sat in the driver’s seat of his car trying to get comfortable and relaxed behind the wheel. He’d forgotten in all the excitement of trying to send Chloe home and Rueben being taken to the hospital that he hadn’t driven since that first day in New York.
“It’s like riding a bike—you never forget,” he whispered, his hand twisting on the wheel. Of course he was deliberately forgetting that he hadn’t been on a bike since he’d gotten his licence seven years earlier.
“How are you doing in there?” asked Seth’s voice in his ear.
“I’m fine,” he growled. In truth his foot was killing him. He’d taken off his cast before going to bed and hadn’t taken anything for the pain. Seth had argued with him on that one but he’d been adamant.
‘I need to be on top of my game, not doped up’. Now he was wondering if maybe a single dose at five wouldn’t have been smart. It hadn’t hurt at all when he’d rolled out of bed and he hadn’t counted on it getting so bad so quickly.
He looked out the passenger side window. #75, Trey Williams, was starting in third which meant there was only one car between them. Once they were in the race and up to full speed that car wouldn’t offer any protection.
“Heads up, Brant. The flag man is stepping up.”
“All right. I’m ready if you are.”
* * * *
Trey Williams was nervous for the first time since he’d first climbed behind the wheel at fifteen with a fake license. Being led off by the cops had shaken him up pretty bad. He was lucky Chloe had been able and willing to spring him, and he knew it. Knowing it was his own manager who was pointing the finger at him was even worse.
“Hey,” Jake said. “You okay out there?”
He sighed audibly. “I’ll be fine. I just feel there’s a lot riding on this race.”
“Maybe there is. Doesn’t matter right now. Right now you need to drive. Get ready for the pace lap. The flag’s coming up.”
“All right, I see him.” He revved his engine, settled himself in his seat, and felt his vision narrow as he focused.
They started moving, falling in behind the pace car. Brant’s foot throbbed more persistently and more painfully the harder he pushed down on the gas pedal. He gritted his teeth and gripped the wheel tighter.
“Brant, you’re already lagging a little. Watch number 14 behind you, he’s going to be tight on your ass for a few laps.”
“I know, Seth,” Brant growled. He hated when Seth filled in as his spotter—Seth was a worrier and a micro-manager and liked to overload him with details. Chloe was more relaxed, more in tune with the flow of the race.
Chloe won’t be spotting for you anymore. You can’t trust her, remember?
As they neared the end of the pace lap he started edging his speed up so that he was already accelerating smoothly when the pace car pulled off the track and the green flag dropped. He slammed his foot down and grunted.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine!”
Chloe heard Seth’s question and glanced away from the track. She knew Brant would be in a lot of pain. The lack of a cast and the strained look on his face had not been lost on her that morning.
Beside her Jake was saying something about sloppy corners so she turned back to the track in time to see Trey’s back end swinging on the bottom corner and Brant take a definite lead.
“Is he okay? You checked his car over, right?”
Jake covered the microphone. “I’m not supposed to look at the car, I’m just a spotter.”
“You have oil under your nails.”
“Okay, Trey knows I’d rather be fixing cars than spotting for him. He told me to look over the car in case Boyd was paying off Willy, the mechanic.”
“And!?”
“There’s nothing wrong with the car.” He uncovered the mike. “Sorry. Watch number 30, he’s trying to get by you on the outside. That corner looks better.”
“I’m driving, not trying to win an art contest,” Trey snapped.
“You’re driving like an amateur. Get your head in the game. You’re halfway done and you’re barely holding to 34’s bumper!”
“I got it! I got it!” He slammed through a corner, gaining precious inches on number 34, the lead car.
For a moment he faltered as he thought, What’ll it do to Chloe if I win? The sight of another bumper in his rear-view mirror shook him out of it. Stop it! You need to focus on driving!
He pressed harder on the already maxed out gas pedal, willing more speed out of the car, trying to out run his own doubts before they cost him the race.
Trey knew he was in a tenuous position. The rest of the cars were at his back trying to find an opening to sneak past him forcing him to weave on the straightaways. It cost him speed and he was affectively acting as Brant’s body guard, keeping all other challengers away.
He whipped through another corner and noted that Brant wavered, losing speed and allowing Trey to shave a few more inches off the gap between them. Trey gritted his teeth and floored it going into the straightaway, staying dead on Brant’s tail, no weavin
g or dodging.
Just as he thought he wasn’t going to gain enough ground before the corner Brant slowed suddenly forcing Trey to swerve violently.
Seth was screaming but Chloe could only watch, her hands over her mouth, as Trey veered towards the boards and Brant nearly stalled in the middle of the track. Jake was shouting out orders as she said silent prayers to whatever god watched over race car drivers, wishing for safety for both her lover and her brother.
Trey pulled away from the boards only to find himself heading straight for Brant who seemed to be having trouble with the upcoming corner.
Inside number 34 Brant couldn’t breathe. The pain had become too intense. He couldn’t put his foot back against the pedal.
“BRANT, TURN THE WHEEL!” Seth hollered in his ear. “HE’S GOING TO HIT YOU!”
Something inside Brant sparked to attention and he slammed the wheel to the right and slammed his foot on the gas pedal, screaming in pain.
Both number 34 and number 75 cleared the corner, side-by-side, leaving the other cars who had been nervous of a wreck in the dust as they flew off down the straightaway again.
“Four more corners,” Seth said, trying to sound soothing. “Four more corners Brant and you’ve got this. You’re ahead by half a car.” But Seth could see Brant was losing the smooth control of the corners that was needed to win a race and each corner brought Trey closer and closer to the lead. All Seth could do was pray that four corners wasn’t enough to give the race to Trey.
They flew across the finish line as the flag dropped and two heart beats later the other cars went by. It was close, so close Chloe couldn’t trust herself to say for certain if Trey or Brant had won. Jake was still shouting into the headset but Chloe wasn’t listening. Her eyes were glued to the big screen at the far corner of the track. It only took a moment for names to start appearing but slots one and two remained empty. The cheering of the crowd slowly died down as everyone waited for the finish line footage to be analysed.
Trey had coasted to a stop and climbed out of his car. His brother, who had been hollering only a moment earlier was strangely silent. “Jake? What’s going on up there?”