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Dalton took that moment to signal to his sister. He jerked his head toward the door, and she slid away from Claire. Outside, Jordana walked beside him back toward their trailers, turning her face up to the sun. “How are you doing?” she asked.
“I have no idea.”
“Me either,” she agreed. “How the hell did it happen? Not the accident. That’s easy enough, but the fire?”
Dalton shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’ve been wondering the same thing. He had a fire suit on with gloves and shoes. Everything in the damn car is as fireproof as it can be. It makes no sense.”
“You haven’t heard anything about it?”
“Not yet. I was thinking about talking to Juan Carlos Rodriguez, the senior race official, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea. He’s going to be in the thick of it at the moment. Plus, people will want to ask me questions, and I don’t have any answers just yet.”
Jordana nodded to one of the truck drivers as they passed. “Do you want me to go poke around a bit? I tried at the medical center, but they’re keeping everyone out, including Claire and Brian.”
“Interesting.” He scratched his jaw. He wasn’t sure if that was standard protocol or not. No one wants to see a badly burned body, so it stood to reason they were keeping the family away. “See if you can find out anything but do it quietly. I don’t want to catch any flak for you asking questions. We’re going to be under a microscope on this.”
Jordana stopped abruptly. “You don’t think…” Her voice died out as she glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention.
“I don’t know what to think,” Dalton said as he ran a hand through his hair. “There are some…anomalies.”
She frowned. “What do you mean ‘anomalies’?”
“The wing… I… I don’t want to get into it now, but I’ll fill you in later once I have a better understanding of the situation.”
“Okay.” Her look was skeptical as she started moving again. “I’ll see what I can find out.” With that, she hurried down the paddock area.
Jordana was the shrewdest of his siblings. She rarely ever had to have someone give her all the details for her to understand what was going on. She was also loyal to a fault. As the baby of a family of five kids, the only girl to four boys, she knew how to keep her mouth shut. They were always in trouble growing up, but she never ratted them out. Not once. Of course, she probably had gotten into her own trouble now and then, too, but there was never any proof.
“Dalton.”
He turned at the sound of his name. Karl Claasen, team owner of Claasen Racing, was striding toward him. The sight of the tall, blond man with close-cropped hair and clear blue eyes made Dalton’s lip curl into a snarl. It was all he could do to keep from turning and rushing away. The man was all flash and no substance, and that’s how he ran his team as well. All about the glitz and glam, see and be seen at all the best places and events. Too bad he didn’t pay as much attention to racing. His team won the European Cup last year by a combination of one good driver, luck, and a fluke. As a result, the man had become even more insufferable than usual.
“Claasen.” Dalton crossed his arms over his chest.
“I wanted to extend my condolences on your driver.” The other man touched his heart.
Freaking insincere gesture as far as Dalton was concerned. He kept his growing annoyance out of his voice as he replied, “Thank you.”
“It is not the best way to start a season, eh?” Claasen shook his head. “Will you be able to compete this season?”
Dalton stared at him. What the hell was he talking about? “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
“Oh, come now, my friend. The whole paddock knows you are having some—how do you say—financial difficulties, yes? The season is long and expensive. You have to have the resources to compete.”
The urge to punch the man was intense. Dalton grabbed onto his own bicep and anchored his fingers in the muscle. If he let go, he would break the guy’s nose. “Don’t believe everything you hear,” he growled.
“That’s great news,” Claasen said with a big smile. “I look forward to beating you again this year.” He cuffed Dalton on the arm and walked by him.
Counting to ten wasn’t going to work. He’d need to count to five hundred to calm down. Instead, he flexed his fingers and slowly made his way back to the Hughes Racing garage. Entering the office space, he found the drivers gathered around the table.
Instead of taking a seat, he remained standing, hands jammed into his pockets.
“Gentlemen, I cannot express to you how sorry I am this happened. I know it has cast a pall over the season, but I do want to reassure you that once the race officials complete their investigation, we will be able to get back to racing. I also want to allay any fears you have about continuing.
“What happened here today is a tragedy, but it is not the norm. There hasn’t been a fatality in racing in years, and in this class, none that I am aware of. I’m sure as the investigation progresses, we’ll get details, but I want you to know I have full confidence in my team and in these cars. They are safe. I personally have rolled the cars more times than I can count. I’ve hit walls, tire barriers, other cars…it’s all part of racing. These cars are built with that in mind. What happened today is an anomaly…a fluke. I’m confident there’s nothing anyone could have done differently to stop what happened from occurring.” He took a breath. “Do you have any questions?”
He did his best to appear confident, but his gut was churning like a washing machine. The image of the wing oscillating haunted him. He wanted to watch the video from his car. But he feared that if it showed what he thought it would, an entirely new can of worms was about to open.
As much as he disliked Claasen, the man was right. Hughes Racing was done if there was any kind of hit to their reputation. To survive, they needed to fill Moore’s seat for the rest of the season. How the hell they were going to convince someone to take the dead man’s place was beyond him. They needed a miracle, and they seemed to be short on luck.
