Braking Points by Tammy Kaehler Page A

not relevant. Suffice to say, unless you plan to arrest me or Stuart Telarday, I’m shocked-out.”
    â€œHmm.”
    â€œYou don’t, do you?”
    â€œNot quite yet, but we appreciate your continued cooperation.”
    My insides churned. I’d have preferred a definite “no.”
    As the detective wrapped up, he confirmed what Tom told me. The police questioned everyone in the Tavern before allowing them to leave the night before—though it wasn’t clear if anything there was related to Ellie’s death. They’d also be contacting anyone they knew of who’d been in the Tavern earlier in the evening.
    Back at my hotel room shortly before five, I arranged dinner via text message with Stuart, who’d left the police station only minutes before me. Then I sat on the side of my bed and stared at my phone. I’d made my apologies to the LinkTime Corvette team in person after the race, but I owed Miles Hanson a call—driver to driver, no teams, media, or assistants in the way. I admitted to myself that I dreaded reaching out because I didn’t know how he’d respond.
    I cracked the knuckles on my free hand while I rang the number I’d gotten from his team. My heart was in my throat, which annoyed me. He’s simply another driver, and the accident was his fault, too . I slumped in relief when voicemail picked up.
    â€œHi, Miles, it’s Kate Reilly. I, uh, wanted to call and see how you were doing, and apologize for my part in this. Seemed to me like a racing incident—like we both should have known better in the rain, right? Anyway, I hope you’re healing well, and I’m really sorry to hear you’re going to be out of your Cup car for a couple weeks. Take care.”
    That duty done, a little more weight dropped off my shoulders.
    Zeke Andrews, my long-time friend, surrogate big-brother, and racing mentor, was the next person I dialed. He’d messaged me earlier in the day wondering if I was free for lunch and saying he’d seen me the night before at Siebkens talking to the police. I reached him waiting for a plane at the Milwaukee airport and explained the situation.
    â€œAt least I’m not a murder suspect this time around,” I assured him. I hoped.
    â€œI should hope not. I’m sorry we couldn’t grab lunch, since Rosalie’s with me.”
    â€œI can’t believe I missed her.” I hadn’t seen Zeke’s wife in three years.
    â€œShe was only around last night, but you can see her at Petit.”
    I was surprised. I’d never seen Rosalie at the races. “I thought she hated crowds.”
    â€œSo did I.” He didn’t elaborate because he was called to board. We agreed to talk later in the week.
    While I was in an explaining mood, I called my grandparents. They’d caught the news item about a death in Elkhart Lake after the race, but they hadn’t realized “Helen Prescott” was the Ellie Grayson we’d all known.
    â€œThat poor girl,” Gramps muttered. “Vivien, you remember little Ellie?”
    I heard Grandmother saying indistinguishable words in the background.
    â€œI know she was an adult by then, but they were all little to us. Besides, she was the sunniest little thing.”
    â€œGramps.” I reclaimed his attention. “She was taller than you.”
    â€œYou know what I mean, Katie. How are you taking her loss? I don’t remember you seeing her recently. Did you keep in touch?”
    â€œI hadn’t seen her since we all went different directions. I was the only one who kept racing. I’m sad we won’t have a chance to be friends again. Sorry for what could have been.”
    â€œWell, now, that’s life you’re talking about. You keep your head up, Katie. Don’t let those turkeys get you down.” Gramps’ parting shot made me smile.
    I had enough time to shower before meeting Holly and Stuart at the