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Dalton laughed. “I hear that. Detective Haas said Goodman confessed to the whole scam the moment he hauled him into the station. Moore had said this land deal was a good one. Lyle, Goodman, and Brian all invested everything they had to buy the land around the resort, figuring it would go way up in price. When Moore realized there was going to be a huge water rights issue, he reached out to the hotel chain about it. Turns out the owner, Jameson Drake, already knew about the issue and had decided to go elsewhere. Moore was trying to interest him in another property in Hawaii, but Drake turned him down.
“In the meantime, all the money they’d sunk into the property was lost. They couldn’t give it away once the water issue came to light. Apparently, Lyle went ballistic. He lost his entire retirement fund in the deal plus more that he borrowed. The loans were coming due, so he hatched a plan with Jack. They’d met in Vegas at an event, and Lyle knew Jack was a gambler and in debt. He promised Jack a way out if he helped.
“So Jack loosened the screws,” Rory said.
Dalton nodded. “And then things went wrong. If I hadn’t started asking questions, it would’ve been written off as an accident, or at least that’s what Lyle and Jack thought. Detective Haas was never going to let it go. He’d asked for a toxicology report during the original autopsy, so it all would’ve come out anyway. But Goodman said Lyle freaked out.” Dalton rubbed a spot on his chest. “He was out of control. He forced Goodman to say that stuff about having a bad physical just to back up the heart attack. Goodman, according to him, had no idea what the plan was until after it happened. His only job was to doctor the will. He cut Brian and Claire out and left the money to himself, Bainbridge, and Lyle. Brian had no clue about any of it. He told Brian he would give him some money if he didn’t contest the will.”
Greer sat there, too stunned at the revelations. “Greed is such a powerful motivator. It’s so damn scary.” She couldn’t believe it.
All this death and misery over money. She always wanted to win, but not at any cost. There were lines she wouldn’t cross. That was what made her different from her father. She closed her eyes and leaned back into the sofa.
“I think we should go,” Rory said. “Jordana needs rest and so do you two.”
Jordana stood up. “Sorry about tomorrow, Dalton.” She moved her shoulder and grimaced. “I can’t race, but I should be okay by next month.”
Dalton waved her off. “Don’t worry about it.”
“But it will put us behind in the championship. There’s no way Tatum or Hans will come in top three tomorrow. They’ll get some points but they’re too green to win. We can still?—”
“Jordana, get some rest. We’ll worry about it later.”
She nodded, and the two left. Dalton stood up. “Greer, I’m glad you’re alright. I was…terrified when I realized Lyle had you in that bag.”
“Thanks. I was damn terrified, too.” She tried to stifle a yawn, but it didn’t work.
“Get some sleep. God knows I’m going to.” He started toward the door then turned back. “Maybe we could…talk after this. Go for coffee or something.”
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
* * *
Race day dawned with rain clouds laden with moisture overhead. Gus had been right. Dalton shook his head. He should know better than to doubt his mechanic. He stood in the garage and chatted with Tatum and Hans, providing last-minute instruction, but more just moral support. It had been a tough few days but the guys were ready to have some fun, and that’s really what it was all about, at least for the racers.
Dalton turned from the screen and noticed Gus was working on Jordana’s car. “What are you doing?”
Gus pretended not to hear him and kept on with what he was doing.
“Old man,” Dalton said as he came around the front of the car. “What the hell are you doing? Jordana isn’t—” He stopped talking. The name emblazoned above the door wasn’t Jordana’s. It said Greer Styger. He stared at Gus, who just turned tail and headed back to the rear of the car. “Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?”
“I’m driving for Hughes Racing,” Greer said as she walked up behind him.
He turned to find her in a fire suit, and helmet in hand.
“Can you move so I can get into my car?”
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
She met his gaze. “Winning the championship for you. You need points in every race to do it. Jordana was your best shot at coming in the top three. You know it, and I know it. She can’t race, but I can.”
“You haven’t been in a race car in seven years.”
“True. But it’s like riding a bike. How hard can it be?” She grinned at him and then pulled on her balaclava.
“Brother.” Rory appeared at his side. “She came to me with the idea this morning and I said yes. She’s right. We need all the help we can get. Now, shut up and get out of the way. I need to talk to my driver.”
Dalton stared at his brother and then at Greer but then he backed out of the way. Gus grinned at him and winked. This was nuts. He went over to the screens and waited for the race to start. The cars rolled out to pit lane. The rain hadn’t started yet, but Dalton knew the storm wasn’t far off. They did a drive-through on pit lane and then positioned themselves out on the grid. Tatum and Hans were eighth and ninth on the grid from their qualifying the previous day. Greer had to start at the back. He was surprised she was even allowed to race but figured Juan Carlos owed him one, and this was him paying it back.
He walked up to the car. Greer looked serene. Her eyes were closed, and she was smiling. This was where she belonged. He knew it. He’d always known it. It looks like she knew it, too. Now.
