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his throttle get stuck?”

“Yeah, but I got this note.” He pulled it out of his pocket and showed it to her.

She read it aloud: “That crash was no accident.”

Then he handed her his cell phone with the message on it: “I know who did it.”

“Somebody’s probably just messing with you, honey.”

“If so, they’re doing a pretty darn good job. But between these notes and Tanner’s history as a driver, I think maybe foul play might be involved.”

Kelly cocked her head as the corners of her mouth turned upward. “Don’t you almost always suspect foul play whenever an athlete dies?”

Cal chuckled. “Guilty as charged—but that’s only because a lot of times it is.”

She grabbed his hands. “Well, this isn’t one of the usual sports you cover. I remember drivers dying in wrecks on the track in the past. Maybe that’s just what happened.”

“But it’s been a while due to safety precautions.” He paused. “I don’t know. It just seems really odd to me the way it went down.”

“Just think about it, Cal. It’s the last lap of a race and he runs into a wall. Do you really think anyone could plan that?”

He shook his head. “Someone could have planned to sabotage his car and it just happened when it happened.”

“But on the last lap when he has to win to qualify for the championship?”

Cal stopped. “I didn’t realize you were such a race fan.”

She kissed him on the cheek again and smiled. “You know I read everything you write. I know it’s far more interesting to talk about when you get home rather than discussing how many times Maddie pooped in her pants the day before.”

He reached up and pinched Maddie’s bulging cheeks. “Awww, don’t say that. I want to know everything that happens to Maddie—except her bowel movements.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Are you ready for your flight to Phoenix today?”

“Almost. Got a few things I need to do at the office before I head to the airport.”

“Well, I’m gonna miss you at the gun range today.”

“I’m gonna miss it, too. It’s been good for me.”

She smiled. “To let out all that pent up frustration you have from all those people calling you a hack in the comments section of your article.”

“It’s a good way to let off some steam.” Cal’s phone buzzed. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said as he got up and walked toward the living room.

“This is Cal.”

The voice on the other line sounded hysterical. “Mr. Murphy, this is Jessica Tanner, Carson’s wife. I was wondering if you could help me before I lose my mind.”

“Just calm down,” he said. “Take a deep breath and talk to me—and I’ll see if I can help you. What’s going on?”

“Carson’s insurance company isn’t going to pay out the policy because it was limited to accidents off the track, not accidents on it.”

“I understand. There’s not much I can do about that.”

“Well, the policy does cover something that isn’t an accident on the track.”

“You mean, like if someone intentionally try to hurt him?”

“Exactly.”

“Not to be insensitive or anything, but nobody hit him when he ran into that wall.”

“Everybody knows that—but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about someone tinkering with his car to make it crash.”

Cal’s eyebrows shot upward. “To be honest, I’ve been wondering how he could just crash on the final lap like that. It’s not like he needed to run wide open to win the race.”

“Maybe the throttle did get stuck, but maybe it didn’t.”

“Is there anything you’re going to do about it?”

“I’m launching an independent investigation. I’d love for you to follow it, maybe even help me put pressure on the insurance company.”

Cal took a deep breath. “Look, Mrs. Tanner. I’m happy to help you in a way that’s appropriate for me as a journalist. But I can’t write something just to put pressure on an insurance company. That’s not what I do.”

She started crying softly. “I just don’t know how I’m going to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Take care of this baby, that’s what. We hardly have any money as Tanner wasn’t making that much yet—and almost everything he made was going to pay off some massive debt he’d accrued before we got married.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“And to make matters worse, I just found out that our little girl has a congenital heart defect.”

“Aww, Mrs. Tanner, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

She blew her nose near her phone’s receiver, startling Cal. “If you think that my husband was murdered out there on the track, don’t you shy away from writing about it. It’s going to be hard enough raising this little girl full time, much less make ends meet.”

Cal almost told her about the messages, then he stopped. Now wasn’t the time. But if her independent investigation of the crash found something else, he wouldn’t just tell her—he’d tell the world.

CHAPTER 10

THE SUN CREPT OVER the Arizona hills, and Ned Davis was already perched atop his RV. He didn’t care that his team’s car had yet to arrive at the Phoenix International Raceway; it didn’t stop him from getting up early to watch the practice runs of the lowly K&N West Series cars. If anyone recognized him there, they might accuse him of scouting for a new driver. But he already had his man. His presence had less to do with trying to replace Carson Tanner and more to do with his love for the sport.

Nothing like the smell of fuel and burnt rubber in the morning. Beats coffee any day of the week.

Davis watched the cars fly around the track. He stared down at a sheet of paper that listed all the cars trying to qualify for the race later that evening.

With NASCAR imposed limitations that kept the lower level circuit cars from running as fast, David ignored the overall times and watched how the drivers handled the oddly shaped track that once was a road course. A driver who understood how to

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