Dead and Gone Jack Patterson (ebook reader play store .txt) 📖

turned around to watch the garage activity.

Another day, another dollar.

He sat down and continued eating only to turn around when he heard approaching footsteps. It was Dirt. Burns turned back around and didn’t saying anything.

“What’s got your goat today?” Dirt asked.

“Tryin’ to figure out who on my crew sabotaged Tanner’s car last week.”

Dirt sighed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. This again, huh? You seriously believe all those reports in the news? Those people are just tryin’ to sell a story.”

Burns stood up. “Or maybe you’re just tryin’ to cover it up?”

Dirt put his hands out and motioned for Burns to sit down. “Settle down, old man. If that report is true, I can assure you I had nothing to do with it. You know my hands are clean.”

“Says the man known as Dirt.”

Dirt edged closer. “They don’t call me Dirt because of what’s underneath my fingernails.”

“Please tell me how you got your nickname then,” Burns said, sarcasm dripping in his tone.

“Keep accusin’ me and you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You keep tryin’ to pin this on me and I’ll tell everybody what happened when you went into debt fifteen years ago and why Greg Grant really lost that race in Homestead.”

Burns’ eyes narrowed. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.”

“You’re dumber than you look if you’d believe such a story.”

Dirt let out a short breath. “Believe it? I heard it from your own mouth one night. You had a little too much in you and you were shootin’ off about it.”

Burns waved dismissively and turned around. “You’re full of it now.”

“The hell I am—I’ve even got a recording of it. One I’m holding on to in case you lose your entire mind and start blamin’ this on me in the press.”

“I’m callin’ your bluff.”

“Oh, so, you didn’t lose a couple hundred grand gambling? And you didn’t repay your debt by tweakin’ Grant’s car so it was so tight that it wasn’t competitive in the final race of the season—a race he only needed to finish twenty-fifth in to win the cup that year? You didn’t do that?”

Burns’ shoulders slumped and he stared at his plate.

“That look says it all,” Dirt snapped.

Burns looked up. “That wasn’t all there was to the story. I only did it because I needed some money to care for my momma. They were gonna put her in an institution if I didn’t come up with a deposit.”

“Cry me a river. You were more worried about someone crushing your knee caps than you were your momma.”

Burns stood up and lunged toward Dirt. “Don’t you ever talk about my momma—God rest her soul.”

Dirt backed up. “I promise to keep her name out of my mouth if you do the same to keep my name out of yours when you go slingin’ these accusations around. Got it?”

Burns nodded and sat back down. He gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath.

Dirt started to walk away and then stopped. “I’ll be watchin’ you tomorrow, Burns.”

CHAPTER 31

BEARING A BOUQUET, Ned Davis knocked on the hospital door to Jessica Tanner’s room. He conjured up his best sympathetic face and hoped she would buy it. While he felt a loss for her husband, he couldn’t say he was sad to see her go with him—only she hadn’t exactly gone yet. He loathed her meddlesome ways with Carson while he was a driver, and he detested them even more so now.

He forced a smile and plodded toward her bedside. “How are you feeling?”

Jessica scooted up and pushed a button on the automatic bed to help her sit more upright. She rubbed her belly and looked down. “I’ve been better.”

“I brought you something,” he said, offering the flowers.

“Thanks. Can you put them over there?”

He nodded and set them on a bedside table. “What are the doctors saying about what happened? I came as soon as I heard.”

“That was kind of you, Mr. Davis. I’ve been under a lot of stress over the last week and I think it just started to take its toll on my body.”

“I wanted to stop by with a get well wish and see what I could do to help.”

Jessica sighed. “You know, Mr. Davis, I don’t think there’s much you can do, other than help NASCAR come to the same conclusion as my independent investigator did. Help them figure out who tampered with Carson’s car. It’ll give me some peace, as well as help me get the life insurance I so desperately need.”

“I can help with money if you need it.”

“It’s not about money for me, to be honest. I’ve got some unexpected bills I need to pay. But even more so, it’s more about her,” she said as she pointed at her stomach. “I found out my baby needs costly surgery before she’s born. He’s got a condition that requires open womb surgery.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, it really sucks.” She paused. “But we’re gonna make it.”

“Well, I can help pay your medical bills and give you a generous bereavement package.”

“That’d be kind of you.”

“How does five hundred thousand dollars sound?”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch—just walk away from this investigation. It’s important for you right now to put it all behind you and move on.”

Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “Move on? My husband died in one of your cars and you’re not the least bit curious as to how something like that happened—and you just want me to move on? What kind of person are you?”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“Help me? By paying me off?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m—”

“No, you listen to me,” Jessica said, wagging her finger. “I know exactly what you’re up to. Whether you’re trying to protect yourself or your brand or somebody on your team, I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’m not moving on until I find out what happened last week. Or more importantly, who sabotaged Carson’s car.