loser of a dad stashed away in some bank. You can have the stupid key. Knowing him, it’s probably not worth anything anyway.”
“You mean it?” Tim said.
“Have those old boys up there in Carolina call me, and I’ll tell them to let you have the key.”
“Wow, thanks.” Tim wondered if Tyson would even remember this conversation. “I’ll have them call you right now.”
Tim hung up and dialed the bank, punching in the first three letters of the man’s last name who had handled his case. The man’s voice mail came on, and Tim left a message telling him what Tyson had said.“So if you could call him and then call me back, I’d appreciate it.” Tim left the Maxwells’ number and hung up.
He let his mind run, thinking about what might be in that safe-deposit box. Maybe it was money. Maybe it was the keys to some car Tim had never seen. Or something he couldn’t even imagine.
He sat and stared at the phone for a few moments, wondering how long it took somebody to get a voice mail. It was silly to think he could will the phone to ring, but he sat there anyway.
Chapter 16
On Track
JAMIE ROLLED TO A STOP at the end of pit road and watched the official. The #11 car passed on its first lap, and she saw Kurt run high on the turn. Don’t want to do that, she thought.
“All right, #1,” the track manager said in her headset, “when you see the signal, take off.”
She gave a thumbs-up outside the window net, then stretched her gloves tight and put the car in neutral. She shook her hands to get loose and stretched her feet, trying to stop shaking.
Come on. I’ve done this a thousand times. No big deal.
The car was hot and the smell of the racing fuel was like perfume to her. There was no breeze to speak of—the flags on the stand were limp—so she wouldn’t have to worry about wind against her on the back straightaway.She pushed in the clutch, jimmied the gearshift back and forth in neutral, and finally pushed it into first. The last thing she did was flip the visor down, blocking a bit of the sun and giving her a tinted view of the track.
As the #11 car screamed past the start/finish line and slowed going into the first turn, Jamie focused on the official. He held up a hand, then pointed to the track.
“Let’s see what you can do,” the track manager said.
Jamie didn’t pay attention to him because she was focused. The engine roared to life, and she felt that initial rush of power that threw her back in the seat. The tachometer jumped. It was all feel now, and when the engine reached its peak, she pushed the clutch in and slammed the gearshift down like lightning. Three seconds later she was in third and off the apron and up onto the track. She was in fourth gear before turn three and finding the groove low around the turn, then accelerating into the front stretch.
She caught sight of the green flag at the flag stand and mashed the accelerator to the floor. Blocking out everything, she leaned forward and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. She crossed the start/finish line and moved slightly lower, finding the quickest line into the first turn. She kept the throttle down andsped through it, creeping up a little and feeling her back end shift, getting loose, but she held it and shot out of turn two.
Good, but I can do that better next time, she thought.
The backstretch ride made her whoop for joy. The car felt solid and fast, and she could sense the speed. In turn three she kept the accelerator as far down as she could, but the rear end got loose again and she fought it into turn four.
Okay, that didn’t work as well as I’d hoped. I’ll make that up in the next lap.
Jamie flew past the flag stand knowing she had to make this lap a good one. Her fastest time would be used, and her first lap was less than her best. The first turn was perfect—the right speed, a good line, and no movement from behind. Unfortunately when she accelerated out of turn two, she heard an explosion that
“You mean it?” Tim said.
“Have those old boys up there in Carolina call me, and I’ll tell them to let you have the key.”
“Wow, thanks.” Tim wondered if Tyson would even remember this conversation. “I’ll have them call you right now.”
Tim hung up and dialed the bank, punching in the first three letters of the man’s last name who had handled his case. The man’s voice mail came on, and Tim left a message telling him what Tyson had said.“So if you could call him and then call me back, I’d appreciate it.” Tim left the Maxwells’ number and hung up.
He let his mind run, thinking about what might be in that safe-deposit box. Maybe it was money. Maybe it was the keys to some car Tim had never seen. Or something he couldn’t even imagine.
He sat and stared at the phone for a few moments, wondering how long it took somebody to get a voice mail. It was silly to think he could will the phone to ring, but he sat there anyway.
Chapter 16
On Track
JAMIE ROLLED TO A STOP at the end of pit road and watched the official. The #11 car passed on its first lap, and she saw Kurt run high on the turn. Don’t want to do that, she thought.
“All right, #1,” the track manager said in her headset, “when you see the signal, take off.”
She gave a thumbs-up outside the window net, then stretched her gloves tight and put the car in neutral. She shook her hands to get loose and stretched her feet, trying to stop shaking.
Come on. I’ve done this a thousand times. No big deal.
The car was hot and the smell of the racing fuel was like perfume to her. There was no breeze to speak of—the flags on the stand were limp—so she wouldn’t have to worry about wind against her on the back straightaway.She pushed in the clutch, jimmied the gearshift back and forth in neutral, and finally pushed it into first. The last thing she did was flip the visor down, blocking a bit of the sun and giving her a tinted view of the track.
As the #11 car screamed past the start/finish line and slowed going into the first turn, Jamie focused on the official. He held up a hand, then pointed to the track.
“Let’s see what you can do,” the track manager said.
Jamie didn’t pay attention to him because she was focused. The engine roared to life, and she felt that initial rush of power that threw her back in the seat. The tachometer jumped. It was all feel now, and when the engine reached its peak, she pushed the clutch in and slammed the gearshift down like lightning. Three seconds later she was in third and off the apron and up onto the track. She was in fourth gear before turn three and finding the groove low around the turn, then accelerating into the front stretch.
She caught sight of the green flag at the flag stand and mashed the accelerator to the floor. Blocking out everything, she leaned forward and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. She crossed the start/finish line and moved slightly lower, finding the quickest line into the first turn. She kept the throttle down andsped through it, creeping up a little and feeling her back end shift, getting loose, but she held it and shot out of turn two.
Good, but I can do that better next time, she thought.
The backstretch ride made her whoop for joy. The car felt solid and fast, and she could sense the speed. In turn three she kept the accelerator as far down as she could, but the rear end got loose again and she fought it into turn four.
Okay, that didn’t work as well as I’d hoped. I’ll make that up in the next lap.
Jamie flew past the flag stand knowing she had to make this lap a good one. Her fastest time would be used, and her first lap was less than her best. The first turn was perfect—the right speed, a good line, and no movement from behind. Unfortunately when she accelerated out of turn two, she heard an explosion that
Similar Books
