Love Inspired Suspense January 2014 (56 page)

FIFTEEN

L
aney screamed over Max's shoulder. “Nolan!”

The boy held out both hands. She thought he was frozen in shock until he dropped to one knee in front of the dog.

Max bolted forward.

“It's okay,” Nolan said, stopping him.

“Nolan, no....” Laney's mouth fell open as the menacing dog flopped over on its back and allowed the boy to scratch his belly.

“This is Chester. He's a good dog.”

Heart pounding, Laney tried to find words. “I thought...I thought he was going to eat you.”

Nolan laughed. “He lives up the mountain with this old retired guy and his wife, but he likes to come down here and pretend he's a guard dog. We used to play together a lot.” He fished a plastic-wrapped sandwich from his pocket. “Just peanut butter, Chester. Sorry it's not salami and cheese, but I didn't know you'd be here today.” He rewrapped half of the sandwich and gave the other half to the dog, who set to work on it, tail wagging.

Max heaved out a relieved sigh. “I'm glad you bonded with him.”

“You were scared, weren't you?” Nolan said, smiling mischievously.

“Yes,” Laney and Max said simultaneously, which set them all to laughing.

Chester finished his snack and gave Laney and Max a thorough sniffing. He regarded Laney with a touch of condescension. “I think he knows I'm a cat person. Sorry, Chester, but Cubby would not approve of you, either.”

“I'd take a dog that smells like peanut butter over a cat with tuna breath any day,” Max stage whispered to the animal, who rewarded him with a wet nose to the shin.

While Nolan hunkered down next to Chester and administered a thorough scratching to the adoring critter, Laney continued her search of the shed, Max accompanying her. They stayed clear of the tottering piles as best they could. Some of the vehicles had been so completely crushed it was impossible to tell what make and model they had been before they arrived at the junkyard. After twenty minutes Laney was beginning to doubt they would discover anything but a case of tetanus lurking in those twisted metal sculptures. Her feet were numb from the cold and Max's cheeks were pink along with the tip of his nose.

“I guess it was a long shot.” She kicked at an eye bolt that skittered across the ground, ricocheting against the wall with an odd hollow thud. Exchanging a look with Max, she set to work pushing debris aside with her hand, uncovering the outline of a rectangular panel set into the wall.

“A door? Yes, there must be some sort of back room we didn't see at first,” she breathed.

Max found a latch and yanked. There was no movement at all. “Locked?”

“Frozen shut, I think.” Laney looked around for a piece of metal suitable to pry at the edges, coming up with a broken piece of pipe that suited. Both of them tugged until they felt the panel give slightly. When Max jerked at the door again, it opened with a loud squeal. He shone a small penlight into the opening. She crowded near him to see, pressing her chin into his shoulder. She'd forgotten how strong his back was, how unyielding the shoulder muscles due to his incessant workouts. Clearing her throat, she eased back a few inches. “What's in there?”

The space was a later addition to the ramshackle shed, made of newer material and sheet-rocked walls. It had to be no more than twelve feet by twelve feet with another roll-up door at the back. The cement floor was clean and the ceiling reinforced so no snow had made it in. There was nothing inside except a large object covered neatly with a tarp. It was impossible to tell in the gloom what kind of vehicle lay underneath the plastic.

Max's eyes glittered with excitement that no doubt matched her own. Finally, they'd found one piece of evidence.

He crept into the space and she followed.

Laney could hardly contain her excitement. Nolan came over to stick his head through the door, Chester trotting along at his heels. “I never saw this place before. It's like a hidden room or something. Cool.”

Max fumbled in the darkness for the edge of the tarp. Laney realized she was holding her breath.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Nolan said.

“If it's a banged-up white car, we sure did,” Laney whispered.

Finally Max seized the edge of the tarp and pulled it aside.

“What?” Laney craned forward to see. “Is it the car?”

Max's eyes were wide and there was an odd expression on his face. Was it relief? Satisfaction? She could not tell.

“Take a look, Laney,” he said, pulling back the tarp and exposing what lay underneath.

Max watched her quick intake of breath, the flicker of her eyes from him to the tarp and back again.

“Hey,” Nolan said, squeezing into the space. “That's not a white car. What kind is that?”

Max lowered the tarp. “It's an Aston Martin, a very expensive sports car.”

“Nice,” Nolan said. “But who would put a car like that in here?”

“I know who,” Laney murmured.

Max took a photo with his cell phone, frustrated that he could not see the rear license plate. Then he covered the car, and they exited, breath puffing in the cold air as they emerged in the shed. He wanted to sit down and think, but a sense of urgency fueled him as he herded Laney, Nolan and the dog toward the gate.

Laney insisted that they drive Chester back to his home, and Nolan accepted thank-yous and a handful of chocolate-chip cookies from Chester's elderly owners. The husband, who introduced himself as Oscar, looked closely at Max and Laney.

“What brings you up here? Not a great time of year to go hiking.”

“We were looking for something, and Nolan told us about the junkyard.”

“What exactly were you looking for?”

“An old car,” Max said. “Didn't find it, though.” He said goodbye before the old man could ask any more questions and headed back to the truck.

Max drove a few miles, pulled over and dialed Officer Chen.

There was a long, disbelieving silence on the officer's end, and Max emailed him the photo he'd taken. Chen agreed to both investigate the shed after a scheduled meeting and uncover the identity of the property owner. Chen also commanded him in no uncertain terms to get off the property without delay.

“Yes, we're leaving right now,” Max said. “I promise.”

Laney was nearly bouncing on the seat in excitement. “Now there's proof.”

Max didn't answer.

She touched his arm. “Isn't there? What are you worrying about?”

“We were trespassing, which Chen wasn't thrilled about, but more than that I'm just thinking that Ancho is clever. I'm wondering how he's going to try to explain his way out of it.”

“I have faith in the truth,” she said.

Once again, he wished he could share her sunny outlook. Nolan returned and piled into the truck.

“Man, this was the best day ever. Got to see Chester, uncovered a sweet race car and I didn't even have to clean my room.”

Laney gave him a raised eyebrow. “It's only a little after eleven. You'll be home in time to clean your room.”

Max eased the truck back toward the main road. He listened to Nolan and Laney chattering away and marveled at the easy flow of conversation. So much of his life was steeped in silence, or trapped in racing and training details he'd never realized that joy might be found in mundane day-to-day life. Why should it be so, when they were engaged in a battle against Ancho and a raft of competitors vying to take away Laney's dreams of gold? He didn't know, but he allowed himself to savor the lightness of it, the sparkling moment that seemed to fill the crammed interior of his truck just then.

He pulled over in the parking lot of a fast-food joint. “Come on. I'll buy you some lunch, since you fed half of yours to Chester.”

Nolan's huge grin confirmed that Max had made the right choice. Laney stared at him.

He gave her an innocent look. “What?”

“You've never set foot in a fast-food place in all the years I've known you. Not one time. Fast food means slow racing, isn't that your slogan?”

“Yeah, well, I guess there's more to life than racing, right?”

She blinked and offered him a silvery laugh that traced effervescent trails inside of him. They'd found proof that could incriminate Ancho and along the way they'd shared an adventure with a kid and a goofy dog. For some reason that he could not explain, he did not want that adventure to end.

“Who are you, and what have you done with Max Blanco?”

He wasn't sure about either question, so he got out and opened the door for her. She hopped down and took his hand. Nolan was already inside, selecting the largest meal from the menu.

He and Laney went with salads but Laney could not resist adding a small chocolate milkshake and two straws. “I'll only be half as slow if you share it with me,” she said.

They sat down to eat. The restaurant was still relatively uncrowded, only a few patrons enjoying their early lunches. A man in working clothes shuffled in and ordered. Max was listening to Nolan tell a joke. The man helped himself to a soda and stood sipping it, waiting for his order.

There was nothing unusual about him; he was middle-aged, his face tanned and lined. Paint splatters on his pant legs showed him to be in the trades. His gaze wandered to the windows, across the tables and landed, just for a moment, on Max, Laney and Nolan. He gathered up his to-go order and shuffled out.

Max watched him traverse the parking lot and climb into a pickup. He sat for a moment, making a call before he drove away.

Laney was deep in the throes of carbohydrate ecstasy. She sighed. “I know milkshakes are bad, but why do they taste so good?”

He couldn't help but laugh as he declined the final sip. “You go ahead, but you have to know that will get you an extra mile on the treadmill tonight.” His gaze wandered to the window again.

“Totally worth it,” she said. “What are you looking at?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Enjoy your milkshake, Laney. We've got a race to win.”

* * *

Laney suited up at the arena for her race with Beth. A warm-up, followed by a five-hundred-meter sprint to practice their cornering—at least that was how they were all talking about it. She saw Coach Stan and his assistant talking quietly on the far end of the ice. They all wanted to see if she could do it. In light of all the recent events, she could understand their doubt about her level of commitment and drive. Deep down she felt a surge of optimism that Ancho was soon to be sidelined.

She was sitting on a bench at the edge of the ice to unpack her skates when her father joined her.

She kissed him, noting the dark circles under his eyes.

“You said you had good news, Dad. Let's hear it.”

He sighed. “I might have been premature in that.”

Max stood a few feet away, scribbling on a clipboard. Dan gestured him over. “You should probably hear this, too. I know it hasn't been fair to ask you to keep training when I haven't paid you in three months.”

Max avoided Laney's eyes. “You didn't ask. I volunteered.”

Laney felt her stomach sink.

“Mr. Thompson,” Max said after a hesitation. “I know this is important, but can we delay this conversation just until Laney's raced? I need her head to be in the game, and I think you want that, as well.”

“Of course. I should have realized that. I'll wait here and we can talk after.”

Laney gritted her teeth. “No. You are more important to me than my racing. Tell me now.”

Her father patted her hand. “Max's right. I'll wait.”

“No, Max is not right.” She fired a look at him. “He's a brilliant trainer, but he is not going to make me put skating first right now. You are my priority. I love you and I'm not setting one blade on the ice until you tell me what's going on.”

He laughed, a dry, sad sound. “Now, that's a look I've seen before. All right, but I want to start by saying you are under no circumstances to stop racing, do you hear me?”

She braced herself for the blow she knew was coming. “Please, Dad.”

He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven chin. “After your accident, after we lost our sponsor, things were tight. When you recovered enough to start training again, there wasn't enough money to go around, even though you worked to help out with the costs.”

“I knew the financial picture wasn't great, but, Dad...”

“Listen, Laney, before I lose the nerve to tell you.”

She clamped her lips closed.

“At the World Championships three months ago, I was approached by a man who offered to loan me money. He was a local businessman, a racing fan who was moved by your situation, or so I thought. I...” He sighed and chewed his lip. “I borrowed a sum with the agreement that I'd pay it back by the first of this month, only I couldn't.” He looked at his hands. “The cab shop was slower than I thought.”

“Oh, Dad.”

He held up a finger. “Don't interrupt. I couldn't pay it back, and the man became angry and threatening.”

“The police...” Max started.

“Don't you see? I couldn't tell them I'd borrowed from a loan shark,” he said. “Laney's reputation would be ruined. She'd be shamed off the training team and her skating career would be over.”

“It was Ancho, wasn't it?” Laney forced herself to say.

He nodded, and her mind spun in helpless circles. “Oh, Daddy.”

“I've got until the end of the week or he'll let it slip to the officials.” He coughed. “Ancho tried to rough me up, but that didn't work. Then...” Her father's voice broke. “Then when I heard what he'd done to you, I went to him with everything I had and told him to stay away from you or I'd go to the police no matter what. He just laughed and told me to go ahead, that no one would believe me just like they didn't believe you.”

She squeezed his hand. “You made a mistake. We've got to tell the police.”