Page 106 of The Legend
Van andClint stepped inside the shop, their shoes squeaked across the concrete shopfrom the rain. Van stopped near me and looked at Tommy.
“Did theyfinish the inspection?” Van asked. I knew enough about Van to know he wasasking that specific question for a reason, his eyes scanned the two cars.
I couldn’tlook at either car any longer without wanting to vomit.Mygut turned when I thought of my dad and holding his head as he fought for hislife.Squeezing my eyes shut, tears fell again. I didn’t want to breakdown. I wanted to be strong like my dad, a man I’ve never seen cry before. ButI couldn’t. I couldn’t be strong when my hero was fighting for his life.
Clintpushed against my shoulder and then wrapped his arm around me. “Hang in therekid. We’ll get through this.”
I neededto hear that right then. I did.
Running myhands over my face, I cleared the disorientation. “What did you guys find?” Iasked Van.
All of usexpected something more happened to those cars. Immediately following theaccident, the cars were covered and brought back to the shop where Tommy andWillie came back to inspect them with the help of two fabrication guys on mydad’s Cup team. Van and Clint did some investigations into the guys working onthe cars prior to the race.Grady.
Clintsquinted at the cars and moved to the side of me, Van stepped closer. “Let’s gosomeplace private.”
Van,Clint, Tommy, Willie and me stepped into my dad’s office. I did nothing butkeep my eyes on Van knowing if I looked around and took in the memories of himhealthy and happy or looked at any picture with grandpa in it I would breakdown again.
“It seemsGrady may have tampered with the car.” Van said looking at Tommy. “That rollbar shouldn’t have been loose, should it?”
“No.”Tommy said immediately, anger rising in his voice. “Even with the accident, itshouldn’t have moved that much. There were partial welds done to the supportbars.”
Pushingout the breath I was holding, I looked at Van again. “Who is he?”
Van closedhis eyes visibly bothered by what he was about to say. Clint spoke for him.“His name is Grady Andrews...hismother was Leslie Andrews out of Kannapolis, North Carolina but that shouldn’tbe your question. It doesn’t matter who he is.”
“Why?”Willie asked standing near the door. His hand rested on the wall supporting hisweight as he leaned into the door. “Shouldn’t it matter who he is? He’s the onethat stole from Jameson, isn’t he?”
“Yes, hestole around two hundred thousand dollars in parts and sold them back inKannapolis. But like I said, who Grady is isn’t important. It’s who his dad is.”
“Who?”Tommyasked.
Van’sbreathing increased and he moved shifting his weight. “His dad was DarrinTorres. I’m not sure if anyone knew he had a son. I didn’t. He may not have evenknown he had one either. His birth certificate doesn’t list his father’s name.”
“Wehaven’t said anything to your mom and it’s best that we don’t right now.” Clintsaid. “She has enough to worry about.”
“Is Darrin...alive?” Tommy asked.
“No.” Vanreplied. “But we don’t know why Grady came to work here. I can only guess forrevenge.”
It didn’tmatter to me now whether Grady did or didn’t tamper with the cars. He was aboutto have a bad day. I was sure of that. I was pissed. I was beyond pissedthinking that this, all of this, happened because someone had tampered with theroll cage and the fact that he was Darrin’s son and it went unnoticed by all ofus for so long fueled my anger.
Van stayedwith us but Clint left to return to Iowa.
WithWillie, Van and Tommy standing beside me, we approached Grady. One look at usand he knew that we knew.
“How couldyou?” I asked tears streaming down my face. I hated that I was crying over thisbut this wound was still open and this was like pouring salt in it. “How couldyou do this to him?”
“I’msorry.” Grady choked clearly bothered by his decision. “I never touched Jimi’scar. I promise.”
“And youthought that would make it all right?” I shouted a few feet from him. “Becausemy dad is still alive...barely...and you thought you could live with yourselfbecause you didn’t kill him?”
“Did youhonestly think you could get away with it?” Willie asked him.
“I’msorry!” Grady held his hands up in surrender when I shoved him against thewall. I didn’t intend on hitting him but when he said he was sorry again, Iwanted to make him feel sorry for what he had done and I hit him. Shocked hiseyes went wide but he never tried to defend himself.
“I’MSORRY!” he shouted at me struggling to get away as if saying he was sorry wouldcalm me down.
“You tellhim that!” Tommy shot back grabbing him by his jacket and slamming him againstthe wall of the shop. “You tell Jameson you’re sorry! Not us.” He shook hishead with heavy regret. “No, you don’t get to tell us. You get to tell him whatyou did.”
