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“You’ve put a lot of thought into it,” he commented.
“I’ve thought of nothing else since it happened.” Other than him. She’d thought a lot about him as well. He’d scared the hell out of her passing out like that. She was worried about him. Really worried. Like oh-my-god-nothing-bad-can-happen-to-you-because-I-can’t-take-it worried.
“Let’s consider all the options. Do you have any enemies? What about in your past? Your racing days?” He was grasping at straws.
Greer shook her head. “No. I mean I had rivalries on the track, but nothing that carried over to real life.”
Except her father. He was the only one who took what happened on the track out on her off the track. He was a vengeful asshole. Tearing down anyone he thought might be better, or those he even just perceived as better than him, was his favorite sport, and he reveled in it. Did he try to have her killed?
She coughed on a cracker, and Dalton thumped her back. “Are you okay? He asked.
“Um, yeah,” she croaked, then sipped her beer.
The shock that gripped her was not because she had wondered if her father would hire someone to hurt her but because she wouldn’t be at all surprised if he did. And wasn’t that the saddest thing? Maybe no sadder than her half-sister wanting her at the bachelorette so she could pay for everything or flying all that way so she would be at the bridal shower. Her mother did care about her, but the rest of her family, not so much. And not once in all these years had her mother taken her side.
“Are you okay?” Dalton asked again. “You look…sad.”
“Sorry.” She gave herself a mental shake. That had devolved quickly into a pity party. “I was thinking about my racing days. I don’t think anyone still has a grudge against me except maybe my dad.”
Dalton ate another piece of cracker with pepperoni. “Not so easy being a part of a racing legacy.”
“No, it’s not.” She cleared her throat. “But that doesn’t help me in terms of knowing who would want to take me out of the picture.”
“It wasn’t just you.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “You think they were aiming at you, too?”
Looking incredibly guilty, he dropped his glance to his lap. “I should’ve told you before. Someone tried to run me off the road the other night. I thought since you’d told everyone Moore died of a heart attack, you would be safe.” He lifted his eyes, deep sincere apology resting in them. “I spent the day before going around telling everyone I thought there was more to it. I figured I could see if whoever was behind this would want to shut me up, which they did. But you, I thought you were in the clear. I’m sorry.”
She pointed her finger at his chest. “Not your fault. You couldn’t have known. Your reasoning makes sense. The truth is someone is getting desperate. I mean, how would they get away with killing us? It would just bring more attention to Moore’s death.” She took another sip of her beer.
“Maybe they didn’t want to kill us. Just distract us. Make us stop looking into things.” He froze. “What if… What if the heart attack really was a coincidence? I mean, what if someone just wanted to scare Moore so he wouldn’t race? Having a major accident might do that.”
Lyle and Bainbridge had said something yesterday. They’d told her they were surprised Moore was doing the whole season, and he rarely committed to anything long-term. They were shocked he’d gotten married as well. What if someone had just wanted Moore to stop racing?”
Greer cocked her head and tapped her fingernails on the table. “I see what you mean. But what does stopping Moore from racing get someone? What’s the benefit?”
“Lyle and Bainbridge said Moore was only doing the season to prove a point to Brian about sticking with things. Maybe Brian wanted him to quit to make his own point?”
“Weak,” Greer said. Dalton had a point, but this was not the reason.
“You’re right. Too flimsy. Maybe someone was worried Moore would be too distracted by racing and wouldn’t pay enough attention to his business?” Dalton chewed a cracker thoughtfully before frowning. “No, too weak as well.”
“Maybe,” Greer said, “this isn’t about Moore at all. Maybe it’s about you.” Her heart rate ticked up as her next thought crowned in her brain. “If Moore stopped racing, you would lose a lot of money. Everyone seems to know you’re in, uh…financial trouble. Maybe someone stopped Moore so you would have to pack up and leave. Puts you out of the running for the European Cup.”
Dalton sat back on the couch. “Now that’s a scary thought. That makes more sense than any of the other scenarios.”
They both sat silently for a moment.
Dalton continued, “Still, that’s a lot to go through just to get us to pull out of the Cup. Why not go after one of us directly?”
That was a good question. Why not? She knew the answer immediately. “Well, they did once Moore’s dying didn’t work. But probably initially because none of you would give up. If one of you got hurt, the rest would carry on. It’s only if you can’t afford to keep going, that you would actually stop. Maybe they were hoping after Moore’s death and your accident you would finally see reason and quit.”
“Shit. You’re saying Moore’s death is on me.”
Shit. “That wasn’t what I meant at all. It’s on whoever loosened those screws. But I think it could be the motivation behind the whole mess.” She didn’t want to upset him. This tentative truce was making life so much easier, but she needed him to see the possibility of what she was saying.
“It’s a thought. A damn scary one, but a solid theory. I do think this means we need to stop asking questions. It’s not worth someone else getting hurt.”
