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Mario hit play as Officer Moser came around the table. The video sprang to life. They watched as Moore weaved in and out of a bit of traffic. Then he was clear. Dalton leaned in a bit, watching Moore’s line on the track more out of habit than anything else. Moore wasn’t bad. He’d done some racing before, but not at this level. It would’ve taken a few races, but the speed with which he implemented the changes Dalton had suggested told him Moore would have been a contender to be in the top three this season if he’d taken it seriously. That would’ve helped Hughes Racing immensely. Dalton stifled a sigh. Someone had put a stop to that. But none of it made any sense. None at all.
As Moore went down the straight for the last time, the car started weaving. He was struggling to keep it on the track. He went up the hill and lost control at the apex. He hit the curbing and careened over and hit the wall, bouncing off and rolling the car onto its roof. The flames took thirty seconds before they appeared on camera, but you could see the legs of the race marshals appear on camera and then the flames disappeared. The camera then shut off.
“Is that it? Is there no sound?” Detective Haas asked.
“No. No sound. The drivers have a mic in their helmets, and they communicate through the headset I wear. In this case, Moore could communicate with Dalton and me through his helmet. There’s no sound recorded by the camera because the car’s engine is too loud. You would never be able to make anything out.”
“I see.” Detective Haas turned and asked Dalton, “May we see the video from Mr. Hughes’s car? I understand you followed him for the session?”
“Yes, we did what we call lead/follow. I followed him out of the pits, and then after watching him for a few laps, I took the lead for two laps and had him follow me so he could see what I was doing, then I dropped back and let him lead again while I offered feedback. It’s an effective method for drivers learning the track because it gives them auditory and visual cues to use to improve their skills on the track.”
“Thank you,” Detective Haas said, acknowledging the explanation.
Mario cued up Dalton’s video for the last two laps as Officer Moser made some notes in his book. When everyone was ready, Mario hit play, and Dalton’s stomach knotted. He tried to maintain a neutral stance so Detective Haas wouldn’t pick up on his anxiety, but it was damn hard. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Detective Haas to see the issue with the wing or not. He didn’t want a murderer to get away with killing Moore, nor did he want the bad publicity and the cloud that would end up hanging over his team. It would be the last nail in their coffin.
They watched as Moore blew by the pit lane entry, and then a few seconds later started up the straight. It was clear to Dalton the wing had started oscillating more profoundly as Moore started up the incline. He got to the apex and lost control. They all watched as the scene played out on the screen, ending with the car bursting into flames. Dalton passed by the accident and had to drive the rest of the course to get back to the paddock.
Detective Haas quietly thanked Mario for showing him the videos and asked for a copy to be sent to his email. Then he stood. “I am sure this is very difficult for you.” He turned to face Dalton. “Once I have spoken to the rest of your crew, you may send them back to the hotel if you’d like. I know we are approaching lunch, so they may eat now if they would like. We must speak with Race Control again and see if our forensic people have finished.”
“Wait, that’s it?”
Detective Haas stared at him, raising an eyebrow. “Was there something else you wanted to share?”
This was it. The moment he’d been dreading. If he was smart, he would let Detective Haas leave and never bring up the video again. That’s what was good for the team. Someone had murdered Moore, whether it was intentionally or inadvertently, and they had to be caught. How did he do the right thing for both?
"No, nothing else. Sorry I haven’t been part of any kind of investigation before. I just assumed there was…more to it.”
Haas nodded. “Our investigation is ongoing but we’re good for the moment. As I said before, once we finish talking to your whole team, you may send them back to their hotel.”
“Okay,” Dalton said. Haas and Moser left the trailer and Dalton sank onto a chair.
He was dying inside. He wanted to yell at Haas and tell him that it was obvious someone tampered with the car but what good would it do? Haas was sure Moore died of a heart attack. If Dalton pointed out the issue with the wing, it would only damage his team’s already tarnished reputation. But letting a murderer go free was against his DNA.
“What are you going to do?” Mario asked.
“Not sure.” Dalton stared at the table. “That’s not true,” he said suddenly. “I’m going to poke around on my own and see if I can figure anything out. No need to involve the cops unless I know for sure someone tampered with the car. Until I can find proof, I don’t want the world thinking Hughes Racing is negligent. We keep our mouths shut until I can prove something one way or the other.”
Mario frowned but then nodded. “Okay. Let me know what I can do to help.”
“Keep trying to find Rory. I’m going to go talk to the entourage. You said they were all here in the paddock this morning as well?”
“Yeah. Jordana gave them a tour of the place while Moore was in with you. Then they went over to the hospitality tent.”
“Okay. Maybe they’ll have a clue about what’s going on.”
Mario paused. “Are you sure you want to do this? Maybe it’s better if you don’t get involved. Tell Detective Haas and let him handle it.”
“I really don’t want to do this but I don’t have a choice. My conscience won’t let me ignore it but I can’t let the team go down in flames. This is the only option. I know everything is riding on this season going well. The chances of me screwing this up somehow are probably huge. Whether Moore is dead because of the heart attack or the accident almost doesn’t matter. We just need to find out who wanted to hurt Moore in the first place.
“Just be careful,” Mario warned. “The more involved we get, the more it could look like we’ve done something wrong.”
“I know,” Dalton agreed. It was a tightrope, and he wasn’t sure he could cross it without falling and bringing everything down with him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dalton entered the packed hospitality tent and glanced around. The various teams were sitting at picnic-style tables, chatting and eating. The lines at the tables set against the back wall of the tent were long as people waited to fill their plates.
He tried to identify who the entourage could be, men who stuck out somehow. Most Dalton recognized, and the others he didn’t were wearing team gear of some sort, a shirt, or a hat, so he walked around to the right side.
