One Track Mind (18 page)

Aileen’s affair had been decades ago. It had been in another century. The world had changed, hadn’t it? Attitudes had changed. She looked at Kane and knew again that she loved him. Why should she be ashamed to show it? Didn’t he deserve for her to show it?

“Kiss you in public?” she asked softly.

“Someday,” he said. “Yeah.”

“How about right now?” she asked.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “What?”

“Right now,” she said. “Right here. Stand up.”

He stood, disbelief on his face, and slowly she, too, rose. She leaned toward him across the table, he leaned toward her. Her lips brushed his, then brushed them more slowly, and then she put her hands on his shoulders and really kissed him.

The café went completely silent except for the sound of the jukebox playing “Always On My Mind.”

Now I’ve done it,
she thought.
I’ve really done it.

And she was glad. She felt strangely free, as if shackles
had fallen away from her. The town could disapprove all it wanted to. She was tired of fearing opinion. She was tired of hiding her feelings and hiding the truth. And she thought, in some strange way, Aileen might approve.

She drew back slightly. “So you’ll let me go with you tonight?”

“You’ve got it,” he said with a slightly crooked smile.

She liked that smile, she liked the pride and pleasure in his eyes. She leaned nearer and kissed him again.

T
HE PICNIC WAS
both fun and festive. The infield was full of people, the serving tables were laden with food, and the High Lonesome Singers were in top form. Dean joked that he felt people weren’t there to see Kent and him, that they were about to be upstaged when Rome McCandless appeared for a photo and autograph session.

Rome had always been shy, and Lori knew that he must respect Kane a great deal to make a public appearance like this. But nobody was going to ignore the Grossos, who were also Carolina heroes, a father and son who’d won back-to-back NASCAR Sprint Cup championships.

The Grossos, however, had other competition of their own sort. Special guests had been invited to be honored and hold autograph sessions of their own. Half a dozen old-timers who’d had legendary races at the speedway came to celebrate the rejuvenation of the track.

The flamboyant Flash Gorton was there, decked out in his famous purple and yellow uniform, so were Lightning Kinsky, Rolly Munson, the diminutive “Flea” Robbins, Bud Standing Bear and Gil Gilroy. They swapped stories of their favorite Halesboro races, shook hands, and grinned at all the fans who regaled them with memories of seeing them race.

“It’s a lovefest,” Lori whispered in Kane’s ear.

“You’re right,” he said. “So can I put my arm around you?”

“Yes,” she said with a smile, and when he did, it felt so right that she didn’t care if people stared or what they thought.
She wasn’t a frightened sixteen-year-old any longer. She was a woman who’d found the courage to follow her heart.

The drivers were introduced before the food was served, and all told funny or outrageous stories of their Halesboro days. Kent and Dean spoke last, saluting their comrades, and paying tribute to the track. Dean introduced Kane, who thanked everyone and announced that the next race would pay tribute to Andrew J. Simmons, who’d built the speedway and made it into a fabled track.

Then he introduced Rome McCandless. “Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce a true hometown hero, basketball great and winner of three most valuable player awards—Roman McCandless, the famous ‘Roman Candle of the NBA.’”

Rome came out of Kent’s motor home, where he’d been hiding. At six foot ten, with flaming red hair, people found it impossible not to stare at him, and his face had turned a darker shade of red than his hair.

He loped to Kane’s side, took the mike and said, “I’m not much of a public speaker, but I came for this guy.” He put his big hand on Kane’s shoulder. “So later if any of you folks want a picture made with the Grossos and me, just step over to the photographer’s van, and we’ll be glad to oblige. Thanks for coming.”

The crowd applauded, and he ducked his head to better hide his flaming face, and quickly made his way to the table where Lori sat with the Grossos. Kane remained standing. “At our next race, the Andrew J. Simmons 200, we’re going to have a very special announcement that’ll be very good not only for the track, but for the whole Halesboro region. So y’all come. And thanks for being here tonight. Enjoy yourselves.”

He put down the mike and went back to his table and sat between Lori and Roman. “You did fine, Rome,” he said, patting his friend’s back.

“It’s an honor for me to be here with these two guys,” Rome said, almost bashfully, nodding at the Grossos. “And it’s good of you to bring back this track. It was a big part of growing up here.”

“His dad worked as part of a pit crew sometimes at the local races,” Kane said to the Grossos. “Fine man.”

Lori remembered that Rome’s father worked full-time at the mills until they closed. With his fiancée’s father buying the mill buildings and Rome helping focus attention on the track, he was helping preserve the two places where his father had labored. It was, she thought, a touching tribute.

At the end of the evening, the crowd oohed and aahed at another fireworks show, which ended, appropriately, with a volley of roman candles bursting and showering the night with every color of the rainbow.

And then it was time to close down the show. “I’ve got to start back to Charlotte,” Kane announced. “Walk me to my car, babe?” He gave Lori an affectionate smile. She rose and went with him.

Roman came with them, clearly glad to be out of the public eye. Kane said, “I’ll drive over and park by the stone bridge. Rome will drive me back and drop me off. I’ll meet you in your office. See you soon.”

He kissed her briefly, but with enough feeling to make her blood quicken. Then she stood and watched the two cars disappear into the darkness.

T
HE LAST OF THE GUESTS
had left. Lori sat alone in her office, nervously wondering if the vandal would show up again tonight. Kane said things could get rough. She knew the vandal had a knife; the mutilated tires proved that. Could he have a gun, as well? She didn’t like this plan, and she wished they’d left it to the professionals.

But then Kane rapped on her door and entered. He sat down in the chair next to her desk and took her hands in his. “I wish you’d stay in here,” he said, staring into her eyes. “I’ll let you know if anything happens. Go to the break room, lie down on the couch.”

“No. I kept my part of the bargain today. You have to keep yours.”

He smiled, remembering her kiss. “You
are
tough, aren’t you?”

“You can’t teach teenagers and be a sissy. Besides, I’ve got pepper spray. Suppose I have to come to your rescue?”

He sighed. “All right. Hold out your hand. I’ve got a present for you, Warrior Woman.”

“What?” she asked, but put out her hand, palm up.

“Night-vision binoculars. Very compact, but powerful. Roman brought up four sets.”

She examined them in amazement. They were light and sleek. “These really work?”

“Really. I promise you. It’ll be like the night turns a luminous green. Hey,” he said, “you changed clothes. You look like a ninja.”

“So do you.” She laughed. They’d both donned black slacks and long sleeve T-shirts.

“Here’s the plan,” he said. “You and I’ll sit in the front row seats furthest west. Dean in front furthest east. Kent between us. We can see the whole field that way. Your job is to man the phone. If we jump into action, call the head of security right away.

“We’ve got six men walking the perimeter outside. Four more inside, but it’s a big field to patrol, and they stop and make spot checks. But we can watch full time. Ready?”

Lori felt like a character in spy drama. She pulled on a black knit cap to hide her bright hair. Kane grinned at her. “I think you
like
this.”

“I’m just trying to look the way they do in movies,” she protested.

“Adorable is what you look. Let’s go.”

They exited the office, his hand on her waist to guide her. “Do you still believe somebody’s hiding in the infield bathrooms?”

“I’m fairly sure. I kept watch on it during the fireworks. It was hard to keep count, but I think one man went in but didn’t come out. And I know who.”

“Who?” she demanded.

“I’m not going to say until we have him. I don’t want to make any false accusations.”

He shut off a light in a hallway, and they eased outside. It was a cloudy night, no light from moon or stars. He led her to the far west end of the stadium seating. Silently, he showed her how to adjust the binoculars to long or short range. She held them to her eyes and suppressed a gasp. The world had turned an eerie green, and she could see so clearly she was astounded.

The big stadium lights were off, only a few widely scattered security lights shone. Intermittently, Lori watched a security guard walk the edge of the track, but he would look up as often as he looked out, disappear into the pit area, reemerge and check the tunnel.

Kent’s hauler and motor home, repainted and shiny, were parked near the bathroom by design, all the better to tempt the vandal.

“Kane,” she said in her softest whisper. “What if he
is
armed? Have you thought about that?”

“Dean’s got a gun. He’s a hunter and a good shot. He’d shoot only to wound, not kill. Don’t worry. And now we sit tight, keep our eyes on the field, and wait. It’s going to be a long night.”

He was right. At first the experience was so foreign, it was exciting, but excitement soon faded, and there was the long, quiet watching. Lori was amazed at how often the inside security guards were out of sight, but Kane said they had to check the stadium’s interior from time to time.

The night grew cooler, almost chilly with the mountain breeze rising as midnight approached. Lori huddled close to Kane, and together they waited. And waited. And waited.

L
ORI GREW SLEEPY
. Her watch told her it was 3:30 a.m., and her heavy eyelids told her it was long past bedtime. At last, Kane told her to stop watching a while and rest her head on his shoulder. She did so gratefully. She nodded off in an uneasy doze.

Then suddenly she felt his body tense and heard him whisper, “Bingo! He’s there! Damn, he’s been in that building the whole time.”

Immediately awake, she jerked the binoculars into position and stared at the infield. Moving quickly from the shadow of the building, a slight figure, dressed in dark clothing, made its way toward Kent’s motor home.

“Call security, babe,” Kane said, and in a flash he was over the wall and running. The figure’s back was to him.

Lori saw Kent vault onto the field, followed by Dean. She speed-dialed the head of security. “Somebody’s on the field. Three of our men are closing in on him and need backup—immediately.”

“You got it,” said a gruff voice.

Lori looked through the binoculars again. Kent was fastest, and the dark figure stood a moment as if paralyzed. Then he began to run toward the grandstand. He had to get past Kane, but Kane tackled him and brought him down. Lori felt sick with helplessness as the two men scuffled in the grass.

The slighter figure managed to scramble to his feet and start running again, but Kent Grosso bore down on him. The fleeing man paused long enough to fling something away from him, but it was long enough for Kent to give a burst of speed, and bring the vandal down for the second time. Then Dean was over the interloper, his gun pointed at his chest. Security men were pouring onto the field, reaching for their revolvers.

Lori swept the binoculars back to Kane. He still lay on the ground, and though he struggled to rise, he didn’t.

He’s hurt!
She panicked. She leaped from the seat, dropped the binoculars and rushed for the nearest entrance to the infield. She ran across the field so fast that twice she stumbled, and when she reached Kane, he was writhing on the ground, with Kent bent over him.

Kent raised his head and cried, “Somebody call 911. We need an ambulance! He’s been stabbed!”

Lori fell to her knees beside Kane. Blood flowed from his
arm onto the grass, and a cut had slit open his shirt front, and when she felt it, it, too, was wet with blood.

“He needs a tourniquet on that arm!” Lori shouted, but Kent stared at her as if she made no sense. She ripped off her black T-shirt and started to tie it around his upper arm. “Help me tie it tight,” she ordered Kent. “You’re stronger than I am.”

Kent snapped back to himself and began to knot the shirt around the wounded arm. Lori leaned over Kane. “Can you hear me? Help’s on the way. Hang on, Kane. Please hang on.”

He groaned, but his eyes fluttered open. She bent close to him, gripping his shoulders. “He cut your chest. How bad is it? Deep?”

“It’s a scratch,’ he said with false bravura. “Where’s your shirt?”

She glanced down. Her top was covered only by a small, lacy black bra.

He stared groggily at her cleavage. “You’ve just shown me two wonderful reasons to get well,” he said hoarsely. Then he passed out.

Sirens keened in the distance, growing closer.

Lori insisted on riding in the ambulance with him. One of the paramedics gave her a sheet to wrap around herself. “Will he be all right?” she kept asking.

“We’ll see in the E.R,” said an ambulance attendant. “Calm down, calm down. The chest wound’s superficial, but he lost a lot of blood fast. Must have cut an artery.”

She sat by the gurney, holding Kane’s good hand, feeling dazed and frightened. She hung on to him as tightly as she could.

She clutched the sheet more snugly around herself, stared down at his still face and realized,
I don’t even know who did this to you. Or why.

She bent down and kissed his forehead. His skin was damp with a fine sweat, and cool, too cool.